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Coming to Terms

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Shifting in the seat of his car, a tingle of pleasure trailed up Castiel’s spine as the butt plug loosening him and keeping him wet rubbed against his hole.

The trickle of bliss heated him, followed by cold dread that dampened his arousal.

Am I really going to do this?

Yes. Yes, I am. I need to stop acting like some kind of wishy-washy omega! I’m an alpha. I made a decision, and I will follow it through.

Besides, what’s the alternative? Go home and deal with my arousal alone? Again?

I’m committed now. I can do this. I want to do this.

After a lifetime, Castiel was through denying the truth to himself, through denying himself what he wanted. Taking a deep breath, he flicked his turn signal on and waited for the light to turn green. The intersection of White Oak and Raleigh was empty, and Castiel tapped his foot impatiently, causing the plug to shift again. The neighborhood was dilapidated and most of the multi-story buildings, erected cheek-by-jowl, appeared abandoned. Local business, closed for the night, were silent and grim in the pools of golden light shed intermittently by street lights. Entire blocks were obscured by darkness; Palmeton’s municipal maintenance workers hadn’t come around to replace the dead bulbs in years. Spray-painted store shutters, boarded up windows, and crumbling stonework completed the image of urban blight.

If Castiel hadn’t been to the area before, he might have believed the projected dereliction was all the neighborhood had to offer, but it presented a false narrative. By day, the streets were vibrant and lively, the shops bustling, the people friendly. As the traffic light finally turned green, luridly highlighting the cracks in the city streets, Castiel made the turn on to Raleigh Avenue. Within blocks the buildings grew shabbier, the streets dirtier, and some storefronts were actually abandoned, boarded up with plywood. Taillights glowed red in the distance, see dark shapes moving on the dark streets. To the uninformed eye, the neighborhoods were similar though this one appeared poorer, but Palmeton’s red light district was infamous and wasn’t abandoned by night, not like White Oak.

I’ll never get what I want by waiting and asking whatever partner my mother selects for me. Coming here…doing this…this is the only way.

There were things alphas simply didn’t do.

Like wearing a butt plug.

Like wearing a butt plug in preparation for...something more.

Castiel shivered with fear and anticipation. There was no way he could ask a partner for what he wanted. Such things were not done, by alphas, by anyone. If he were found out, his life would be ruined, and likely so would his family’s reputation. Heck, if Castiel were severely unlucky, he might damage their business prospects in the city, domestically, and even internationally. He hated that things were the way they were, hated that the world was so structured, so ensnaring, and he hated himself for not being brave enough to buck that trend.

Castiel was a coward.

But he had the money to buy what he wanted, and buy silence from whatever obliging alpha he found to provide it for him.

I’ve wanted this for so long...waited for so long...what’s the harm in indulging, just once?

What’s the harm, huh? I’ve got a list a mile long, where should I start?

No one will find out...and having tried once, I’ll get the urge out of my system. Celibacy hasn’t worked, hasn’t stopped me from wanting, so why not try seeking satisfaction?

Gabriel would approve, at least...but imagine how Michael and Luke would react if they knew...

…no, no one, not even Gabriel, can ever find out…

A stop sign at the corner of Raleigh and an unknown alley – the street sign was missing, or perhaps there’d never been one – marked the unofficial but universally acknowledged border that divided the respectable, god-fearing alphas, betas and omegas of Palmeton from the seedy underbelly of society. Outside of the red light district, appearance was everything. Alphas topped for omegas. Betas coupled betas. Society followed strict rules, and woe-betide the alpha, beta, or omega who tried to step outside the castes created by presentation types. Castiel marveled that past the intersection the streets looked so normal. There was no warning, no indicator, that beyond that point, every taboo could be broken for a price. Sex, drugs, and probably worse that Castiel couldn’t guess at, everything was obtainable, most of it legally, so long as the prudent seeker of the illicit didn’t get caught. Scent bonding a prostitute? Having sex before marriage? Adultery? All cause for condemnation, for ruination, for despair.

Don’t get caught…can’t get caught…

Why am I doing this? God, what if I scent bond with whoever I hire? Will my family be able to smell the changes when I go to work tomorrow? This is a terrible idea. I should turn around, go home, forget about my foolish desire. I’m an alpha. I know my role. I know my place. I should...

...but I want...

...just once…I can do this…I may do this...let me have this, once…

Castiel’s car came to a full stop at the intersection.

He didn’t drive on.

A sharp rap on his window startled Castiel; he started and the plug shifted unpleasantly against his rim. Glancing that way, he steeled himself for a confrontation – I’ve been here two minutes and I’ve already been caught! – but instead of an authority figure, a policeman or someone who knew him or some bogeyman from his worst nightmares, there was only a young woman who smiled at him through the glass. She was…pleasant. Normal looking. She had all her teeth, gleaming white in the moonlight. Her hair was washed and styled. Her clothing wouldn’t have excited comment at any high-class establishment.

A lot of stereotypes that lurked in the back of Castiel’s mind crumbled.

She knocked again.

Castiel stared.

If Castiel’s preconceptions were true, she’d proposition him if he spoke to her. She didn’t interest him – scenting her was unnecessary, Castiel had no interest in women regardless of their presentation – but it seemed rude to drive away without acknowledging her greeting, and Castiel’s preconceptions were clearly bunk, so he hesitantly rolled down the window.

“Are you okay?” she asked, sultry voice tinged with concern.

“Yes, I’m fine,” lied Castiel. He grew less fine by the moment. His heartbeat accelerated, his palms were sweaty against the steering wheel, and his ass clenched and unclenched against the plug, sparking heat that felt less and less pleasurable and more and more dirty and inappropriate. “Why would you think I wasn’t alright?”

“Hun, you’ve been sitting at this stop sign for over a minute.” The woman – the prostitute? – clucked her tongue. “You poor thing. I can smell the terror from here. First time?”

“Is it that obvious?” Castiel asked sheepishly.

“You’re a deer in headlights,” she agreed. “May I get in the car?”

“I don’t want to pay you for sex,” said Castiel in a rush, hoping to avoid further awkwardness. What if he let her in the car and she demanded recompense? What if she touched him when he didn’t want her to? Her scent was musky and insidious, leaking into the car’s interior, setting his teeth on edge and causing the skin of his arms to prickle.

She leaned forward, resting her arms on the edge of his window, framing her exposed cleavage, collar barely high enough to conceal her nipples. “What makes you think I want you to pay me for sex? I get a choice in this too, you know. And my dear, you smell rank. So don’t worry, sex between you and me? Completely off the table. Consider me your unofficial welcoming committee. I can introduce you around – show you the ropes – and you won’t owe me a penny. It’s a public service we poor prostitutes like to offer newbies to get them acclimated. Think of me like…like that greeter at Walmart who asks if you know where the grocery section is even though there’s an enormous sign ten feet away that says ‘groceries.’”

“I do not see any enormous signs on Raleigh pointing me toward which aisle I need,” Castiel deadpanned. The woman laughed and gestured to the car door again, and Castiel steeled his will. He’d prepped himself. He’d gotten in the car wearing a plug – gone out in public slicked up like an omega and smelling of who-knew-what. He’d driven to the red light district. He wasn’t going to back out now. He was committed. Or at least, he should be committed.

Yep, straight to the insane asylum. Isn’t that what mother said about alphas who lowered themselves to the stature of omegas, and about omegas who dared presume they could pretend to be alphas? They should be locked up and given corrective therapy, the harsher the better, and—

And the less Naomi learns of my sex life, the better. Time to man up, Castiel.

‘Man up?’ Terrible choice of—

Shaking his thoughts away, Castiel reached across the front seat and pulled up the lock for the passenger door. There was a click, and the woman opened the door and dropped into the seat.

“So, sugar, my name is Meg and I’ll be your tour guide today.”

“I thought the term was pimp?”

“Only if I get a cut of the money from whoever you eventually hire,” she corrected. “I don’t, by the way. I truly am merely providing a public service, free of charge, out of the goodness of my heart. We’re all independent contractors ‘round these parts, though don’t take that to mean we’re unprotected. We look after our own. And besides, I might find a John or Jane for myself while I’m shopping you around. Lonely nights are boring. So, John, what’s your fancy?”

“Emmanuel,” corrected Castiel. He’d decided to use his middle name months ago, when it had first occurred to him that he could buy what he craved. While he’d struggled to work up the nerve to come and make the purchase, he’d spent hours turning the name over in his head, practiced saying it in the mirror, internalizing it until it felt like him and he thought – he hoped – he’d answer to the name if called upon to do so.

“I’d like to hire the company of a male alpha for the evening,” Castiel explained, nervously eying his companion.

“Aisle 6,” Meg said, pointing down the street. If the request seemed odd to her, she didn’t show it – didn’t flinch, didn’t express skepticism, didn’t wink, didn’t judge. “Where those headlights have been parked since you got here, by the fire escape strung Christmas lights.” Squinting, Castiel could make out the faint glow of color several streets down. “Between Van Aiken and Lima.”

“There really are aisles?” asked Castiel.

“If we sort the merchandise, it’s easier for prospective customers to shop our full selection and choose a model that suits their fancy,” she explained. Despite her dehumanizing word selection, there was a sparkle in her eye and her lips quirked in a smile. Castiel hesitantly smiled back then returned his attention to the road.

The streets of the neighborhood were lit by car headlights, street lamps, and the occasional bright-lit window. Men and women milled about or lounged against stoops, eying his car. A mélange of smells drifted sickeningly through the unrolled car window, stale slick and musky cologne made to mimic an alpha in rut, trash rotting down the alleys and worse Castiel didn’t want to identify.

I should leave now, while I can. This is disgusting and beneath me.

‘While I can.’ No one is forcing me to be here, and any prostitute who tried to make a client stay against their will wouldn’t be successful at their job. It’s a customer service profession, which means they have to…service the customers…professionally.

And it’s not like we’ll be having sex in one of the alleys. 

Nor will anyone be beneath me.

Shuddering, forcing his intrusive thoughts away, Castiel reached the block she’d indicated, stopped and put the car in park. The hum of the engine reassured him that he could still leave if he chickened out, vibrated the plug in him tantalizingly.

“So, are you a browser? A window shopper? Or would you rather more personalized service?” asked Meg, ticking off options on her fingers.

Castiel frowned. “I’m unclear on the distinctions between these options.”

“Browser: park your car, get out there and inspect the merchandise first hand,” Meg explained, all business now that they were actually there. The “merchandise” was about a dozen men who stood talking amongst themselves on the sidewalk. Aside from their gender and the powerful scent of alpha hormones that wafted around them, there were few commonalities between them: young and old, thin and heavy, pale-skinned and dark-skinned, short hair and long…there weren’t enough men for every permutation that might exist to be offered but they represented a fine range of potential preferences – a good selection.

God, I’ve been here minutes and I’m already commoditizing these people. What’s wrong with me?

They are a commodity. I’m buying a service, yes, but I’m also buying an appearance and a scent. Typically when selecting a service provider, I focus on the quality of the work that’s done: I don’t care how my plumber looks as long as he snakes my pipes correctly. This situation is different, as it should be given the nature of the service provided. I cannot assess how well these men perform sexually until I share companionship with them, but if I don’t find them visually and nasally appealing, I will have no desire to commune with them. Taking their appearance into account, and consider the variety of appearances on offer, is a reasonable approach to hiring one of them, from a business standpoint.

But how on earth am I supposed to know which one I’d like to have sex with?

Castiel was so keyed in thinking about what he wanted, he’d hardly spared a thought to who he wanted it from. The person he hired had to be a man, had to be an alpha – those were his absolute preferences, based on his limited experiences with arousal, the occasional scent that triggered his libido, and the fantasies that warmed him at night – but beyond that? He’d not considered broad or lithe, Caucasian or African American, tall or short. He’d thought he’d planned extensively and effectively for this evening, but since his arrival he’d been confronted repeatedly by how singularly, depressingly unprepared he truly was.

The men glanced his way, offering open, inviting smiles, and Castiel resisted the urge to shrink into the seat of his car.

Doing so would only nudge the plug and remind him why he was there.

“Thinkin’ might-y hard over there, Emmanuel,” said Meg, grimacing. “Ugh, what kind of name is that?”

“It means ‘God is with us,’” explained Castiel absently, eying his choices.

“Oh-ho, does it now? Isn’t much Godly about what we’re up to…you a religious sort? We get a lot of those…” She waited, but Castiel didn’t answer. Who he was, who he really was, was none of her business.

The men approached Castiel’s car, tapping their fellows and encouraging them to come along. None stirred that special something in Castiel’s gut, and his nose itched from their combined scents. There was no sorting through the hodgepodge of smells to determine if any individual might appeal to him.

They should make a mail-order catalog. Scratch-and-sniff. I wonder if anyone has tried that as a model for an escort service?

“Looking for some roleplay, maybe? Ash has a damn fine priest get up…I think he might have actually been a priest…”

The prospect of getting out of the car and browsing, speaking with the men, scenting them, was nauseating.

“How does the window shopping option work?” said Castiel, resigned, and hoping that she’d stop talking about religion. She chuckled, a sinful sound, and shook her head.

“You’re doing that right now – sit here, stare creepily, and scent the air,” Meg replied. “Any minute now they’ll start coming over one by one to see what your fancy is. You don’t need to get out of your car if you don’t want to. Or, if you’d prefer, you can give me some idea what you want and I can – for a nominal finder’s commission – suggest an appropriate escort.”

Didn’t she say her aid in navigating the nuances of hiring a prostitute would be free?

Everyone has an angle. How can I be surprised that self-employed prostitutes also have an angle?

A breeze stirred the air and mercifully dissipated the distasteful miasma of mixed scents, replacing it with a pleasant aroma of fresh-mown grass that suffused the cabin of his car. Surprised, Castiel looked around. The neighborhood was mixed residential and commercial, tall buildings housing multiple apartments and businesses on the first floor. Castiel doubted there was a home within a mile that had a lawn. None of the individuals he could smell seemed to be the source, either.

A young man emerged from the side street that Meg had called Van Aiken, hair disheveled, cheeks flushed a rich color even with only the washed-out glow of the multi-colored fairy lights for illumination, and the smell of grass intensified.

It’s him. He smells like grass…green…fields in summer…sun-baked wheat…freedom…he smells…he smells amazing

“Ah, like the new arrival?” Meg asked. Startled, Castiel tore his eyes from the man and glanced at her. She pursed her lips and smirked. “Hey, Jensen!” she shouted. The young man kept walking. “Jen!” Freezing mid-step, Jensen swiveled around, searching for Meg. His eyes were dark pools in the night, his lips plush and spread in a smile. A t-shirt hung loose over his lean frame; tight jeans clung to his legs, tucked into the tops of his unlaced boots.

“Jerk! Over here!”

Meg awkwardly leaned out of her bucket chair, invaded Castiel’s personal space, and reached between Castiel and the steering wheel to wave out the window. Spotting them, Jensen ambled over, steps wide and bow-legged. The closer he came, the stronger the earthy scent became and the more complexity Castiel was able to pick out. Jensen smelled like new-sheared grass on a hot summer day, moisture in the air promising rain later, a faint citrus undertone suggesting lemonade to cool Castiel’s brow, and—

“You free?” asked Meg.  

Dazed, Castiel had no idea what Meg meant. He opened his mouth to speak and clamped it shut again. Jensen stood by the driver’s side window, and at Meg’s question he broke into a toothy smile. His lips looked kissably soft, his teeth surprisingly straight and white…

No. Not surprisingly. Forget what I think I know. These are people, doing a job, nothing more, nothing less, and as such are as diverse as any other group people. They have good features and bad, strength and weaknesses, specialties and preferences. And as to their teeth, well, a prostitute has a vested interested in maintaining their personal charms, right? Good teeth, nice smell, clean clothes, it’s all part of the package they’re marketing...

…and he’s beautiful, and smells like I’ve tumbled into my own personal heaven.

“I am.” Jensen nodded and leaned through the window. Castiel would’ve swooned if he wasn’t already seated cradled by the driver’s seat “I mean, I’m not free, but I’m available.” He winked. Freckles painted the bridge of Jensen’s nose and scattered over his cheeks. Sweat left tracks down his forehead. The lingering aroma of another alpha clung to Jensen’s skin despite the subtle smell of dryer sheets that suggested that Jensen had recently donned a fresh shirt. Their gazes met and Jensen’s nostrils flared as he scented Castiel. His eyes darkened with lust, pupils large and black, whatever color surrounding them impossible to distinguish.

“How much?” asked Castiel hoarsely, his throat dry. He was profoundly aware of the plug stretching him.

Soon…soon, this gorgeous, delicious-smelling man is going to…

“Depends how long you want,” Jensen replied with a shrug.

…oh God, I can’t wait…

“The rest of the night?” Castiel suggested in a rush. Jensen raised an eyebrow at him and Meg chuckled knowingly again.

However long it takes his knot to go down after he’s tied us together…

Desire threatened to choke Castiel, thrumming beneath his skin, heating him like an inferno had nestled in his gut.

“Three hundred bucks,” said Jensen. Castiel blinked. The amount was significantly less than he’d expected, and Jensen spoke hesitantly, as if prepared to be negotiated lower.

Castiel had a thousand dollars cash hidden beneath the driver’s seat.

“Two hundred and fifty,” Castiel countered. If Jensen thought he was worth so little…maybe he was an inept lover, maybe he had a small dick or a small knot, maybe he had a health issue…a lifetime of work as a business executive had taught Castiel the value of underbidding.

I can’t believe I’m low-balling a prostitute...I had no idea I was this cheap...but he knows the going rate on his services, and I don’t, and since I’m dealing in merchandise whose worth I don’t know, I have to follow his lead...

Jensen frowned. “What did you have in mind?”

“Sex?” asked Castiel, incredulous. What else would he have in mind?

“Fair enough.” Jensen grinned. “Knotting or no knotting?”

“Knotting,” Castiel confirmed, a shiver running down his spine. He’d imagined what it would feel like to be stretched around a knot more times than he could count, had even bought a toy so that he could experience a facsimile of the real thing, and finally, finally

“No kinky shit?” asked Jensen.

Nothing kinkier than an alpha being knotted by another alpha, but that doesn’t appear to ping as unusual to him...

“No, no ‘kinky shit,’ replied Castiel.

“Two-fifty works, then. Sold!”

And if he is good, and I want to do this again, that thousand dollars could cover three more nights, instead of buying me a mere one as I expected.

No! No, this is a one-time event, never to be repeated! Don’t even think about…

…but he smells so good…

…and I want him so much…

…only because I’ve never done this! Once I’ve been knotted, I’ll know what it’s like, and that will set my curiosity and desire to rest. It probably won’t even be very good. I’m not designed for this – it’s not like I’m an omega – alphas don’t have the same nerve endings or glands or anything. I’ll have fulfilled my desire, learned that – as always – reality doesn’t live up to expectation, and I can finally move on from this deviant obsession and focus on the important matters in my life.

“My work here is done,” said Meg with a self-satisfied grin. She popped the door open and stepped out as Jensen circled to the passenger side. “Pleasure doing business with you, Emmanuel. Don’t forget to have fun while you’re exercising that big vocabulary of yours!”

“Thank you, Meg,” Castiel replied solemnly as Jensen dropped into the vacated seat heavily enough to cause the car’s axles to creak. Meg closed the door behind him and strutted back toward the intersection where Castiel had met her.

“Emmanuel?” Jensen echoed.

“Yes, that’s my name,” Castiel lied. “Emmanuel.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” said Jensen with a suggestive smirk. “Gotta know what to scream when I come. Kinda a mouthful, though. Manny?”

I’d rather you say Castiel…

Quashing the thought, Castiel started the car again. “If you prefer. Seat belt?”

“Right, right.” Jensen strapped himself in. “Lead on, MacDuff!”

Castiel glanced out the passenger side window, confirmed there was no oncoming traffic, and pulled into the road. Raleigh Avenue was the place to go to buy sex, and to accommodate that bustling trade, the western end of the street was home to a plethora of pay-by-the-hour motels at which a customer could enjoy their purchase. Usually Castiel was assiduous about researching a new destination, but he hadn’t bothered to do his homework on the hourly dives. His mother might check his search history and suspect his intentions, and besides, surely all the motels would be about the same: dank, ill-kept, sub-standard, but adequate.

If mother found out where I was, and what I’m doing…

Bile rose in Castiel’s throat, the plug shifted and pleasure roiled him uncomfortably, and Castiel swallowed. “Did you know the original Shakespearean quote was actually ‘lay on MacDuff?’” Castiel asked, desperate to fill the silence.

“I did,” said Jensen. “Act V, scene VIII. And it has nothing to do with leading anyone anywhere. MacBeth is ordering his troops to commence attacking MacDuff’s army.” Stunned, Castiel glanced at the young man. “What?” Jensen said with an ingenuous smile and a wink. “I read…”

“Are you a student?” said Castiel. “Doing…this…to pay for school?”

“Personal questions will cost you extra,” Jensen replied, tone quashing, expression closed. “But no. Believe it or not, I do this ‘cause I enjoy it. That gonna be a problem? Only want a miserable whore?”

“No, of course not,” Castiel stammered. “I’m glad you’re happy…I mean…that’s preferable to…it’s none of my business. I’m sorry.”

“Naw, it’s cool.” Jensen waved a hand dismissively but Castiel didn’t believe the meager attempt to play off the effrontery caused by Castiel’s question. Too many assumptions, Castiel. “Just remember: this ain’t Pretty Woman, you’re not Richard Gere, and I’m way hotter than Julia Roberts.”

Ahead, the scuzzy motels lined the streets. Brightly lit signs competed for attention and business, announcing what amenities each place claimed they had and their hourly rates. 

“I don’t understand that reference,” Castiel admitted.

“Wow, really? Dude, I thought everyone had seen that movie. It’s about a prostitute omega – that’s Julia Roberts – and Gere is the rich alpha guy who sweeps her off her feet, ‘saves’ her from her lifestyle and profession – it doesn’t matter – turn here.” Jensen interrupted his own train of thought to gesture at one of the motels. The sign named it “Cajun Delights,” which sounded more like a restaurant to Castiel, but there was no sign of a place to eat, just a low building with a long line of identical windows and doors at regular intervals. “Benny’s joint is the best on the block – clean, reasonably priced, and Benny’s got his head and his dick in the right place.” There was something to how Jensen said the last that seemed off. As Castiel pulled into a parking spot near the main entrance, he glanced at Jensen but his expression was unreadable, cast golden by the light from the large lobby windows.

I’ve got stop thinking I have any idea what to expect, any idea of what’s going on, any expertise that substitutes for never having done this before. I can only do my best and hope I don’t mess up so badly that he walks out on me.

That would be a new socially inept that I can’t even succeed at purchasing sex from someone who earns their living by selling sex...

“Get us a room – I’ll pay, of course – and I’ll be there in a moment,” said Castiel. Jensen gave him a funny look…or a normal one, for all Castiel knew…and did as Castiel suggested. The car door squeaked as Jensen slammed it behind him. Castiel’s car was an ancient Lincoln Continental that his brother Gabriel scoffed at and mocked as a “pimp mobile.” Castiel could afford a nicer vehicle, but he didn’t see the point. A new car would be an unnecessary expense; as much as maintenance cost for the Continental, it was still less expensive than a replacement that would meet Naomi and Chuck’s expectations. They hated the car, an added perk, and because it was technically theirs, they couldn’t tell him not to drive it. A tiny act of rebellion, but that plus the fact that Castiel liked the Lincoln justified his continuing to use it.

I like my ‘pimp mobile’ …though apparently there are no pimps on Raleigh Avenue, just independent contractors, so how does Gabriel know what kind of car a hypothetical pimp would drive?

Digging under his seat, Castiel pulled out the crisp bank envelope containing the bills he’d gotten from the bank and counted out three hundred in twenties and tens – Jensen’s payment plus the rate stated on the motel’s marquee. He pocketed the money, exited and locked his car, and went to join Jensen.

When Castiel stepped into the lobby, Jensen was leaning against the counter, smiling impishly at the man working the reception desk, who scowled at Castiel.

“First timer?” the receptionist said sourly.

“I suppose so,” sighed Castiel. Was there a neon sign over his head proclaiming him a virgin? Was it that obvious that he was the new guy in town? “How much do I owe you?”

“Jenny tells me you’ll be here for several hours so we’ll call it an even five-oh.” The man stood up straighter and put his hands on his hips, drawing attention to his broad shoulders and beefy biceps. “And just so you know, I got spare keys to every room and I keep a baseball bat behind the front desk. You try anything…” He trailed off ominously.

“Aw, come on Benny, don’t be like that.” Jensen tone was jocular but the edge Castiel didn’t understand was back. “Manny and I are here to have a good time, right?” Jensen nudged Castiel. Benny’s scowl deepened and he cracked his knuckles.

“I’m not planning to ‘cause any trouble.’” The expression was unnatural on Castiel’s lips. In a lifetime, no one had looked at Castiel and thought him the sort to instigate a fight. The worst accusation Castiel had been subjected to was that he was a corporate stooge one percenter who didn’t understand how “regular Joe’s” lived.

That was 100% true. Even at 31, the most apt description Castiel had of himself was spoiled, entitled rich boy.

With a sour grunt, Benny took Castiel’s money and slapped a key down on the counter.

“See? Nice guy,” said Jensen, snatching the key and grabbing Castiel’s wrist. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road.”

By the fluorescent glow of the hallway lights, the flush to Jensen’s cheeks was obvious and Castiel’s conviction grew that he wasn’t Jensen’s first…client…of the night. The smell of a beautiful summer’s day yet suffused Castiel’s nose, despite the competing lesser scents that saturated their surroundings, and to his surprise he felt a flare of jealousy. He quashed it, recognizing the ludicrousness of the feeling, and the jealousy morphed into a burst of nerves. Conventional wisdom stated that even one sexual encounter was enough to spark a scent bond between compatible people. If Castiel accidentally ended up connected with Jensen, his own scent would change and everyone who encountered him, everyone he worked with, everyone he worked for, would know that he’d been unchaste, that he’d been with someone, might even know that someone was an alpha, depending on how strong the connection between him and Jensen was. He’d thought up several potential lies to cover himself should the worst happen, and had bought the strongest scent suppressing soap available at CVS for use post-coitus, but standing before a door painted crimson at the end of a long hallway with sounds of passion leaking from the surrounding rooms, his pre-conceived excuses and flimsy preparations seemed hollow.

There was an emergency exit beside their motel room door.

It wasn’t too late for Castiel to leave.

“Oh, awesome, he gave us the room with the Jacuzzi! See what I mean about Benny? Top notch guy.” Jensen unlocked the door and pushed it open. Stepping within, he gestured for Castiel to join him. “Not having second thoughts, are you?” He grinned, eyes catching the light, breathtakingly beautiful.

If Castiel didn’t do this now, he’d never get the chance. His mother had vowed to arrange a suitable marriage for him. Once Naomi set herself a goal with a deadline, she was unstoppable. Castiel would be married within the year, locked into matrimony and fidelity and the societally-mandated appearance of propriety, and he’d have to maintain appearances for the rest of his life. Castiel was a good son, obedient to Naomi’s wishes, but he’d spent a decade saving his true desires for quiet nights spent alone with an inflatable knot, and he’d spend his future years doting on whatever strong-willed omega Naomi picked out as a suitable mate for him. Tonight was his, a memory to cling to when he unhappily forced his knot into his spouse, a comfort for every unwanted sexual conference and lonely masturbatory fantasy.

I am doing this for myself. I will do this for myself.

“No,” Castiel managed. “I want this. I, um, I want you.” Accepting Jensen’s invitation, he stepped into the room with a weak facsimile of Jensen’s enthusiastic smile.

If I can get away with making one decision for myself in an eternity of conforming and contorting to meet Naomi’s expectations, let it be this decision.

I deserve this.

Jensen clucked an indecipherable noise as he pushed the door shut. The interior of the room was surprisingly restrained. The muted hallway suffused with pornographic noises and a riot of smells had Castiel dreading what lurid nonsense awaited him, but the decor was understated in shades of gray and tan, the carpet was clean, and the furniture was tasteful and appeared well-made. A bed dominated the room, with an armchair and small table nearby and what Castiel thought was a luggage holder in one corner, though that made little sense. No one who stayed in a motel like Cajun Delights brought luggage.

More assumptions, Castiel...what did Gabriel say about people who make assumptions? They make an ass out of you and me?

Castiel glanced back at Jensen. Jensen watched him expectantly, lamplight gleaming off his eyes.

Green, like the fresh-cut lawn his scent conjures to mind.


“Well?” said Jensen with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows.

Castiel swallowed. His muscles clenched, the edges of the plug’s flared base dug into his butt cheeks, and an oppressive sense of dread choked at his throat.

If his family caught him…

If they formed a scent bond…

If he got sick, if Jensen deceived him, if Benny decided Castiel crossed a line, if this was a scam, if, if, if…

Castiel swallowed again. “Give me a moment,” he said. His throat was parched.

Maybe there’s a cup in the bathroom...maybe it’s even clean...I can get some water…get some air…get time to think and collect myself…not that time alone will change anything…

“Hey, you’re the boss,” said Jensen. “Do your thing.”

Nodding caused a wave of vertigo to wash over Castiel. He turned to the only door in the room, beside him, hoping it was the bathroom rather than a closet. Sure enough, he found a light switch within the doorway, flipped it on, and revealed a modestly appointed bathroom. There was a pokey shower, a porcelain sink with a tracery of dark cracked lines, a mirror, and a toilet that hissed as the water in the basin ran continuously. Closing the door behind him, Castiel flipped on the faucet and splashed his face with water that went from chill to over-hot more quickly than the top-of-the-line water heater at his house could manage.

His reflection in the mirror was pitiful.

It had been a rough week. Castiel had been bombarded by calls and e-mails from investors demanding to know why the value of their portfolios had dropped. That the overall market had plunged almost 10% in the space of days, while IADB’s investor accounts had dropped only an average of 2%, did little to assuage the anger of those who insisted that they should be earning money even during a bear market. The calls had been a constant distraction from his actual job, trying to stay on top of the trends and latest news well enough that he could ensure that investors didn’t lose more. He’d made more trades in the past few days than he could remember, over a ludicrous number of hours spent staring at computer screens late into the night, monitoring international markets as they opened and closed. His face was haggard, his eyes sunken and tired, his hair unstyled. His suit was rumpled, his tie askew, and the water dripping from his face made dark stains down the front of his trench coat.

No wonder Jensen thought he might need Benny to protect him.

Grabbing a bleached white hand towel – stop. assuming. everything. is. dirty – Castiel sponged his face off, made a token attempt to fix his hair, shrugged off his coat, and straightened his tie.

Great, now I’m trying to improve my appearance so as to impress the prostitute I’ve already hired.

Ashamed, Castiel leaned against the counter and took a deep breath, and another, and another. When he felt steady, he took a step toward the door. The plug tickled him and his equilibrium nearly shattered, but he held onto his steadiness, held onto himself, by a fingernail. Whooshing out a loud exhale, Castiel opened the door and stepped into the room.

“I’m ready, Jens—”

Words choked in Castiel’s throat. Naked, Jensen straddled the contraption that Castiel had thought was a luggage stand, a padded platform supporting his stomach, his arms stretched before him as he faced the wall, his legs resting on two boards on the sides, spread wide, exposing his hole like a target aimed directly at Castiel.

“Yo, Manny.” Jensen twisted around, winked and a half-waved. “I’m ready, too!”

“No,” managed Castiel in strangled tones. God, Jensen was gorgeous: slim, toned, muscular. His skin was pale save where it was dotted with brown freckles that scattered over his shoulders and down his arm. There wasn’t a strand of hair growing from his ass, perineum, or balls. Liquid – artificial slick, most likely – shimmered on the velvety skin, and what Castiel could see of Jensen’s cock was…impressive: large, even as it dangled flaccid between his legs. Castiel swallowed and locked his knees to keep from twirling to face the other direction.

I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be seeing another man, another alpha, naked. I shouldn’t be hiring a prostitute. I shouldn’t be having sex before marriage. I shouldn’t be losing my virginity.

The moment stretched out painfully tense and awkward, and Jensen frowned. “Foreplay?” he asked uncertainly. “I know you’re new at this – but most newbies – heck, nearly everyone who hires me – prefers to cut right to the main event. I’m game for a warm up if you are.”

“No, I…” Castiel closed his eyes slowly, deliberately. His legs trembled and his voice was so reedy he scarce recognized it. “That’s…what you’re offering…that’s not what I hired you for.” Jensen’s eyes narrowed and Castiel had never before felt like he had to individually force words out of his mouth, out of his brain. “I don’t want…” Castiel made a gesture devoid of meaning. He knew it was ambiguous but he couldn’t make himself say what he meant. “I want…I want…”

“You want my knot,” Jensen breathed. For the first time since they’d met, Jensen looked rattled, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. “Emmanuel, you want me to fuck you?”

A jolt of pleasure stabbed through Castiel at the filthy language and the images it conjured. His cheeks heated and his cock stirred against the soft, expensive wool of his slacks. Jensen’s eyes widened farther. He shifted on the stand, sat up and settled onto his ass on the step that he’d previously rested his leg on. From this angle, Jensen’s cock was even more impressive: fat, uncut, thickening and resting chubby in the juncture of his thighs.

“Yes,” Castiel croaked. A faint smile brightened Jensen’s face; he quirked an eyebrow at Castiel.

I’ve faced down CEOs. I’ve faced down FBI investigators. I’ve faced down Charles Shurley and Naomi Novak, though only when I had to and God I hope I never need to again. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t grow hoarse. I wasn’t fazed. But this…this is my limit?

“Yes,” Castiel tried again, and was ineffably relieved that he was intelligible.

“I can do that.” Jensen’s moment of imbalance had passed. Once more, he was confident, flirty, and cocky.

And what a lovely cocky…

Castiel’s cheeks flushed darker. Chuckling, Jensen rose, crossed to Castiel and tugged his tie loose.

“Always been such a proper alpha, haven’t you, Manny?” The low, gruff words were incongruous with Jensen’s youthful features and sent a shiver down Castiel’s spine. In an effort to repress his quaking, Castiel stiffened parade-ground proper as he nodded. “Spent a lifetime waiting for your family to choose a mate for you, spent a lifetime saving that body for ‘the one,’ spent a lifetime looking for that perfect person you’re supposed to knot – when secretly you’ve been craving a knot of your own, right?” As Jensen spoke, he brushed Castiel’s jacket off his tense shoulders and sensually, one by one, undid the buttons on Castiel’s shirt. Leaning forward, he breathed into Castiel’s ear, “What would your friends say if they knew you wanted to be my bitch?”

A shocked sound caught in Castiel’s throat; his eyes rolled shut, his head tipped back, and desire and anticipation boiled under his skin.

He’d waited so. damn. long.

Jensen nipped Castiel’s ear, confident, experienced hands unclasping Castiel’s belt. “First time?”

“You know it is,” Castiel breathed. “First time for everything.”

“I figured,” Jensen conceded, licking down Castiel’s neck and over his scent point. “Dirty talk okay?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Castiel nodded frantic approval. The aroma that Castiel always exuded, usually subtle and so familiar he scarce noticed it, intensified and his nostrils were overwhelmed by the embarrassingly strong smell of newly-minted money. A strange sound – a growl, he’s growlinghummed through Jensen. Slipping the arms of Castiel’s shirt down his shoulders, calloused fingers touched bare skin for the first time and Jensen sucked at the gland at the base of Castiel’s neck, sucked in Castiel’s scent. Castiel’s knees quavered. The feelings were more intense than he’d expected, more intense than he’d imagined, more intense than anything he’d ever induced by touching himself with tentative, exploratory fingers.

With a rattle of metal on metal and a rustle of fabric, Castiel’s pants hit the floor.

“So hard for me already,” whispered Jensen huskily, fondling Castiel’s erection. Helpless whimpers accented every breath Castiel took. “How long have you wanted this, little bitch?”

“Always,” Castiel confessed. “I’ve always…but I never…please, Jensen…”

“Call me Jen…and don’t worry.” There was a promise in Jensen’s voice as he slipped a hand beneath Castiel’s undershirt and kneaded roughly over the muscles of Castiel’s belly. “I’ll take care of you.”

Arousal dizzied Castiel, spun his head, set his heart racing, sped his breathes. Sensations assaulted him. Jensen was everywhere – mouthing at Castiel’s scent gland; scraping fingernails over Castiel’s ribs; working Castiel’s feet out of his shoes and socks. Castiel was stripped bare. Body and soul, he was naked, exposed, vulnerable, hot and shaking and beyond desperate. Jensen’s breath was hot against his flesh, Jensen’s skin by turns soft and rough, Jensen’s cock a hard line pressing into Castiel’s thigh.

“What do you want?” asked Jensen.

Castiel’s heartbeat was so loud in his ears he could scarce hear, his breaths so quick he couldn’t find air for speech.


Jensen’s fingers cupped Castiel’s ass and toyed with the edges of the plug. An approving noise rattled from Jensen’s throat, rattled through Castiel’s body and mind, and Jensen twisted the plug, pulsed it slightly in and out of Castiel’s ass. Pleasure cascaded outwards and Castiel’s cock twitched, spitting dabs of pre-come that smeared on Jensen’s skin and caught in the coarse hairs on his legs.

“You know,” Castiel whined.

“Tell me,” Jensen insisted.

The hot presence before him vanished and Castiel nearly collapsed; he sobbed when Jensen pressed against his back, slotted his cock against Castiel’s behind. A hand between them stroked Jensen’s cock, rubbed Castiel’s ass, and Castiel swooned back against Jensen with a relieved moan.

“Use your words, Manny.”

“Please,” breathed Castiel.

Jensen nudged Castiel forward one step, then another. Castiel’s legs were pathetically weak. If he’d hadn’t been so hot, so hard, so desperate, he’d have been ashamed of his submission, ashamed of his need. As it was, he had barely enough rationality to know he should be ashamed, but he wasn’t. He’d obeyed his mother, obeyed his father, obeyed his older brothers, without question for thirty years. He’d asked nothing for himself, taken nothing he wasn’t entitled to. He’d reaped many benefits for his obedience but this…taking this for himself hurt no one, would never reflect on the family, was not being done on their hours. This was for Castiel.

Unless I’m caught…

Jensen’s supportive presence vanished again and, with a cry, Castiel’s knees went out and he tumbled forward. He braced for impact on the floor and was shocked when he landed on something soft instead, something giving, something that smelled of softener sheets and bounced under his weight.

Same brand of softener as Jensen’s shirt...

...bigger things to worry about right now!

The bed. He was bent over the bed. His hands clenched into fists, gathered the blankets, and he shoved his ass out behind him in invitation.

“Wow,” Jensen breathed. He was so far away. Why was he so far away? Castiel was drunk on the smell of money and grass, completely bare, completely lost. “Are you presenting for me, little alpha?”

“I’m not a—” Castiel bit the fabric before him to keep from speaking his lunacy aloud. Of course he was an alpha. He had a knot. He had a large cock. He didn’t make slick. He couldn’t have children. He wasn’t an omega. Wanting a knot didn’t make him an omega. Wanting to be an omega didn’t make him an omega.

He was a broken, sick alpha, and he needed this.

“Please, alpha!”

A sharp slap on Castiel’s ass forced a grunt from him. His hard cock brushed against the blankets and pleasure and pain combined and drove Castiel even higher. They’d hardly even touched and he was already gone, so damn gone.

Tell me what you want,” snarled Jensen. The command, the snarling possessiveness of a demand spoken by an alpha, his alpha, snapped something in Castiel’s mind.

“Fuck me, alpha!” Castiel begged.

The plug was out of his ass.

Jensen’s hard, fat cock rubbed at him, sliding on slick, far too much slick, far more slick than Castiel had used. Jensen must have lubricated himself, there must be supplies in the room, and—

The thick nub of the head of Jensen’s cock pressed against Castiel’s rim. A sob hitched in Castiel’s throat. Jensen had looked impressive but against Castiel’s ass he felt enormous. Castiel’s body wasn’t designed to take something so large. There was no way. It was impossible. A soothing hand skimmed down Castiel’s spine, slid through the sweat Castiel hadn’t noticed forming.

“Relax,” whispered Jensen. A pained noise escaped Castiel and he tried, he tried, but God, he wanted to feel that cock inside him so badly, and at the same time…

…what if I don’t like it?

…what if I’m wrong?

…what if it hurts?

…what if I want Jensen to stop and he won’t?

…what if…

“I’ve got you,” Jensen murmured, leaning down to hover close over Castiel’s back. Jensen’s warm summer smell suffused the humid air between them and Castiel’s anxiety ebbed.

“You smell so good,” mumbled Castiel into the bedding.

“You’re gonna be my good bitch, right?” Jensen asked.

A flicker of panic clenched through Castiel’s body, tightened him from shoulder to ass to ankle – I’m not a bitch, I’m an alpha. I shouldn’t be turned on when he calls me that. I shouldn’t be turned on when an alpha puts me in place, but I am, God I am, what’s wrong with me? – and then Jensen’s lips closed over Castiel’s scent point and he sucked hard and the tension winding Castiel tight shattered. Jensen’s free hand caressed down Castiel’s side and over his ass, a thumb pressed into him and withdrew, and then the pressure of Jensen’s dick was back.

“Breathe for me, Manny.”

“Jen…” Castiel whispered. Jensen took an exaggerated breath, his chest pressing into Castiel’s back, and then exhaled with a whoosh. At his next inhale, Castiel mimicked him, breathing in deeply, letting it go with a sigh. Jensen kissed and sucked and tongued at Castiel’s scent point, marked him with bruises, claimed him if only for the night, and incrementally Castiel’s terror ebbed away. He couldn’t have said how long passed, couldn’t have repeated what Jensen promised against his skin nor how Castiel replied, but the moment that Jensen’s thick cockhead finally, finally breached Castiel’s rim etched into Castiel’s brain with crystal clarity, every detail seared into Castiel’s existence.

The grunt that Jensen huffed against Castiel’s neck.

The burning stretch as Jensen pushed in an inch, another inch, another inch, another inch, another inch, God, his dick was never-ending.

The sweat that dripped from Jensen’s brow, splashed on Castiel’s skin, trailed down his cheek to rest beneath his nose and drown Castiel in the smell of new-mown grass and fresh lemonade.

The weird, so-wrong-yet-so-right feeling of Jensen filling him.

“How’re you doin’, Manny?” Jensen sounded surprisingly affected. As he sank deeper into Castiel, pulling out slightly and pushing back in farther, he brought shaking hands to rest on either side of Castiel’s body.

“It’s weird,” Castiel breathed. “It feels…it feels strange. Like I have to…” It was too embarrassing to admit that being filled triggered the part of his mind that usually only activated when he had to defecate. With a groan, Castiel tensed to keep himself from acting on the incongruous instinct. Freezing, Jensen echoed Castiel’s groan.

“Like you gotta take a dump?” Jensen managed, chuckling hot against Castiel’s neck.

“Yes,” Castiel admitted.

“You’ll get used to it ‘fore ya know it. I’ll stop any time you want me to,” vowed Jensen. Shifting, Castiel took a steadying breath and, one by one, eased his muscles. As soon as the pressure on his cock decreased, Jensen slid forward once more, and the pleasurable sensation slowly, slowly began to overwhelm the feelings of dirty-wrong-bad, must-use-the-toilet, and over-fullness that had accompanied the initial penetration.

“Don’t stop,” grunted Castiel. Jensen’s hips came to rest against Castiel’s ass and a dizzying moment stretched out – he’s in me, he’s truly in me, and it’s…it’s amazing.

And it’s going to feel so much better when...

Jensen didn’t move.


“Don’t stop,” Castiel repeated.

...why isn’t he having sex me? I told him to...I said...I actually said...

“Give it a moment, Manny,” said Jensen reassuringly.

Fuck me, alpha!!

Castiel was done with reassurance. He was there, he was with an alpha, he had a hard cock up his ass, and need burned incandescent beneath his skin. Jensen was a heavy weight over him, but Castiel could still move. Bucking his hips up, he rolled back against Jensen’s cock. Pleasure incinerated him, exploded over his senses, suffused him so completely that he wasn’t sure if he moaned or Jensen moaned or they both did and he didn’t care.

“What part of fuck me, alpha wasn’t clear?” demanded Castiel.

There was a moment’s stunned silence and then Jensen moved, drew his hips back, slammed forward, stuffed Castiel full, and Castiel cried out in bliss.

“My little bitch has some spunk after all,” Jensen said as he drew out and thrust back in hard, repeated the movement again, again, not a pause as he did it again, again, again. “I’ll fuck that outta ya. Gonna make you beg for my knot.”

At least Jensen sounded enthusiastic, breathless and eager and strained. Sure, Castiel had hired Jensen, but Jensen clearly enjoyed his work. Knowing this wasn’t just job to Jensen pushed Castiel higher, intensified his pleasure.

An extra tug stretched at Castiel’s rim as Jensen drew back and thrust in once more. The knot at the base of Jensen’s cock was thickening.

He’s really going to do it. I’m really going to...really going to be...

All reason fled.

Yes,” Castiel crowed, fucking back into every thrust.

I need this.

“Knot me, alpha! Please, please, please, please, please knot me!”

I need this.

“Gonna come in your ass, pretty omega,” Jensen promised. Castiel moaned and let Jensen ride him, did his damnedest to ride Jensen in return.

I need this.

“Gonna fill you so full,” continued Jensen.

I need this.

“Knot you so that we don’t waste a drop.”

I need this.

“Soak you in my come.”

I need this.

“Breed you like the little bitch you are.”

I need this, oh God, I need this, Jen!”

“I know you do, Manny.” Skin slapped loud on skin with every thrust; Jensen no longer drew back far. His knot was swollen, stretching Castiel’s ass as the inflatable one had never been able to. With a final hard thrust, Jensen’s thick knot locked them together and Jensen humped his ass hard, harder. “Aw, fuck, this feels…I had no idea…gonna breed you up—”


“—gonna fuck you so good, gonna ruin you for any other alpha—”

“Please, Jen,” Castiel cried into the blankets. His mouth was gummy, his eyelids flashing brilliant white with every thrust, and he was lost, so lost.

Need this always, need this forever...

“Tell me, Manny!”

...don’t stop, don’t stop, say my name, say Cas, please, please, please, “please, please, please – fuck me, knot me, fill me, breed me, please, alpha, please—”

With a strangled exclamation, Jensen thrust into Castiel so hard that the bed slammed against the wall. Jensen strained to pull out but he couldn’t; pain and pleasure left Castiel reeling as Jensen’s large knot stretched Castiel’s insides, strained against his rim, pressed so hard, so so hard, against Castiel’s prostate. The pressure inside Castiel increased, and increased again – he’s coming, oh my God, I can feel it, I can smell it, it’s incredible – and then a hand closed around Castiel’s cock and fingers pressed against Castiel’s sensitive knot. Jensen’s ruined voice whispered in his ear, “Come for me, you fuckin’ gorgeous cockslut,” and Castiel shattered.

Wave upon wave of pleasure – peak after peak of bliss – stole consciousness, stole sense, stole Castiel from himself. Minutes passed, they must have, but all Castiel was aware of was the ever-greater swell within his ass, the strain of Jensen’s enormous cock inside his body, and the thumb digging into Castiel’s knot and massaging orgasm after orgasm from Castiel as he shook with helpless bliss. Sobbing against the blankets, Castiel tried to ride the rapture, but only Jensen’s continued presence, continued heat, continued knot, kept Castiel from flying apart.

When he finally came back to himself, it was to the sound of Jensen’s whispered reassurance, “You’re okay – I’ve got you – that was incredible – you’re going to be fine – breathe, Manny—”

Hearing the wrong name grounded Castiel, helped him regain control, helped stop him from continuing to whisper, “so good, so good, so good,” into the linty bedspread. With a shuddering gasp, Castiel went limp and Jensen finally, mercifully left off milking him.

Castiel could still feel Jensen filling him, swelling him more and more.

Terror brought him crashing down to earth.

“Are you tested?” Castiel wheezed out frantically. “Are you safe? Oh God, I—”

“Hey, hey, relax, I’m wearing a condom,” said Jensen. Limp with relief and bliss, Castiel collapsed back against the bed once more. “I need you to keep breathing, okay? Trust me, I know exactly how overwhelming this can be, especially when you’re not used to it.”

“I wish…” Castiel trailed off as Jensen gently rearranged their bodies. It was a multi-step process, and Castiel was scarce able to help, but when Jensen was done Castiel lay on the bed and Jensen lay alongside him, his cock yet lodged in Castiel’s ass, one arm draped awkwardly over Castiel’s chest, the other trapped between them.

“What do you wish?” Jensen asked.

Grasping the thought was hard, but Castiel found the trail, remembered what he’d been about to say, and grimaced as he admitted, “I wish you’d stop reminding me that I paid you for this.”

“I’m sorry I’m a whore,” said Jensen unsympathetically. There was a pained pause. “If it helps…” Jensen huffed out a breath, shimmied closer to Castiel’s back, and relaxed. “If it helps, this was a first for me, too.” Startled, Castiel twisted in Jensen’s arms and forced his eyes open. Jensen was flushed, his hair a mussed mess, white tracks of sweat obscuring the freckles dotted over his cheeks. Brilliant green eyes met Castiel’s gaze, and Jensen smiled at him gently, genuinely, much different than the smug confident smirk that had accompanied Jensen’s earlier flirting.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve always been the fuck-ee,” Jensen admitted. He sounded young, and happy, and Castiel’s heart lurched. The urge to strain closer to Jensen was powerful, the desire to bury his nose in Jensen’s neck and soak every sense in Jensen’s scent overwhelming. “I’ve never been the fuck-er before. It was fricken awesome.”


“Really,” confirmed Jensen, nodding. “I’m an alpha, sure, but looking like this?” He made a gesture that took in his slim arms, his narrow hips, his slim build and boyish features. Surely, Jensen couldn’t be older than 20. Castiel should feel guilty about the youth of his paramour, but he didn’t – another item for the list of things that, in his deviance, Castiel couldn’t be troubled to worry about and that he should be condemned for, damned for. “Alphas who want to bottom hire big tough guys who can dominate the fuck out of them – force them to submit – and omegas who hire alphas go for the nice guys, the ones who are perfectly proportioned and smell like roses and vanilla and shit – and fuck, I’m talking about my job again and I’m sorry but seriously, you don’t know what this means to me. I’m not just saying that. Thanks, Manny.”

“Cas,” Castiel croaked.

Oh, Castiel, you idiot…

Jensen looked a question at him.

…don’t do it, don’t do it, don’t do it…

“My name is Cas,” said Castiel.

This will end in disaster.

Jensen broke into a gorgeous, broad smile that revealed a row of perfect white teeth, and nuzzled Castiel’s neck, licking gentle kisses against the bruises he’d made over the sensitive skin of Castiel’s scent point.

“Thank you so much, Cas,” Jensen whispered. “This was great – really great. I hope…I hope you’ll want to do it again sometime. And…and when we do…if we do…maybe, uh, maybe call me Dean? That’s my name – my real name.”

“Dean…” Castiel sampled the name. Something clicked right in his head. He deliberately didn’t examine the feeling. “Next time…I’ll call you Dean.”

He meant every word.

God, I’m really screwed.

Yes, Jensen…Dean did really screw me, and it felt fantastic.

With a sad sigh, Castiel gave up. He’d fought himself and fought himself. Coming to Dean was a profound surrender, and now that the deed was done – now that a knot stretched his ass – now that Dean knew Castiel’s preferred nickname…his thoughts were rich with self-recrimination but when he searched his heart he felt no actual regret. He felt a sense of responsibility, heard the whisper of his mother’s voices telling him how proper alphas behaved, and knew that he should feel guilty beyond expression.

But he didn’t feel guilty.

He felt good. Replete and pleasured, with echoes of bliss yet rippling through his body and his mind. Strangest of all, he felt cared for. As if to emphasize the thought, Dean snuggled against Castiel’s back, wrapped an arm around Castiel’s chest, and brushed a line down Castiel’s abdomen and over his navel. Dean’s hand came to rest on Castiel’s belly, his palm kneading gently at the skin. Absurdly, Castiel could swear he felt the full condom shifting and sloshing within his sated body, triggering pinpricks of heat and bliss.

“I’ll definitely be back,” Castiel promised.

Dean sighed contentedly and, with a pleased sound, went limp against Castiel’s back. Castiel echoed the sigh, delighted in the clench of his muscles against the knot stretching him, and let the week’s exhaustion pull him under.

He’d never been happier in his life.

Tomorrow, he’d have to figure out what that meant.