Dean hasn't eaten carbs in eight days when he smells it.
Why do they put breakfast pastries out on Wednesdays? No one should eat that much refined sugar.
Dean rolls his eyes and walks past the break room, fat-free rice milk latte in one hand while his briefcase hangs from the other.
He's just getting settled into his desk when Mr. Adler leans against his door.
“Got a minute, Dean?” Dean smiles, nods and prays that this won't be one of those hour-long musings about synchronicity that his boss likes to indulge in. He has work to do.
“Great, that's just great, Dean.” Dean clicks his email closed as Adler steps into the room. When he looks away from the screen, Adler is standing by his desk but he's not alone.
Standing about a foot behind him is a shy-looking young man, nervously blinking his wide blue eyes and fidgeting with his tie. His slacks are neatly pressed but his hair looks like he just went two rounds with an angry raccoon. Dean can picture the man running his hands through it, nervous habit, just like the lip-chewing this guy obviously did. Someone needed to introduce him to chapstick.
“Dean, this is Castiel Novak, your new secretary.”
The man smiles at Dean and waves his hand before he clasps them both behind his back, eyes immediately returning to the floor.
Dean knows how important it is to have a good relationship with support staff, so he stands up and walks over to the man. He gets about a foot before it hits him – that smell, jesus. Dean feels his throat get thick as his mouth waters, itch under his skin making him tug on his collar before he even realizes it.
Breakfast pastries, my fucking knot, Dean thinks.
They hired an omega?
Adler's got this pinched smile on his face as he babbles on about the new addition to the Sandover family, Dean barely listening to him as he shakes Castiel's hand.
His skin is so soft. Dean lingers on it for a second longer than he ought to.
“Castiel, Dean Smith. Director of Sales and Marketing. You'll be supporting him directly.” Adler grins like he just brokered a deal for world peace.
Placing an omega this high up on the corporate ladder was, Dean had to admit, a brilliant PR move for Sandover's diversity profile. And fucking Adler, beta dickbag, wasn't the one who had to smell him.
“Castiel, welcome to the team.” Dean falters a bit when he pronounces Castiel's name. It's hard to say new words when you're vividly imagining your dick in someone's mouth.
“Thank you, Mr. Smith.” Cas smiles up at Dean, eyes widening as the omega's nostrils flare slightly. “Most people call me Cas, if that's easier for you.”
His eyes are back on the floor before he's done speaking. Dean watches a tiny bead of sweat form on the curve of his jaw, so small no one but Dean and his freak eyesight would be able to see it. Dean wonders what his tongue would feel like running up that arc of bone to lick it off.
Oh this is not good, Dean thinks, biting the inside of his cheek. Dean needs this job, and the last thing he needs is some messy office romance fucking it up. Dean never really thought of himself as an omega guy, although he did always like brunettes.
If Dean could survive on lemon juice, quinoa and chard for three weeks, he could certainly control himself around blue-eyed eau du porno over here.
“Well, Cas, I'm sure you'll be a great addition to the team.” Dean raises his eyebrows at Adler, hoping he gets the message and lets him get back to work.
“Thank you, sir.” Cas looks back up at him quickly, and Dean catches a tiny slip of pink tongue over those chapped lips.
“You don't...” Dean means to tell Cas that he doesn't have to call him “Sir,” Dean's never been one to stand on ceremony. Instead he just smiles. “Just don't let Adler here bore you to death, I have plenty of work for you.”
Cas smiles at him as Adler dramatically rolls his eyes and shoots Dean the dreaded double thumbs-up. Dean reciprocates, hoping he doesn't look too exasperated.
Dean watches as the omega follows behind Adler, trying not to trail his eyes over the slim curve of Cas' hips as he walks.
Cas proves to be a perfect secretary, unobtrusive and efficient. And he's observant, noting how Dean likes his coffee and which brand of water he prefers (BPA free bottles, artesian-well filtered).
The company puts on a sexual harassment sensitivity seminar, which has absolutely nothing to do with the walking stick of boner incense that strolls into Dean's office every day, not at all. Even the betas seem sensitive to him, although they have no idea how bad it could be.
Dean rarely envies betas, but he wonders if his days would run smoother if he wasn't so sensitive to Cas. It's not just that he smells like vaporized viagra. Dean can tell when he's tired, when he's upset, when he's eaten something sweet for breakfast.
Cas can clearly do the same, his ability to anticipate Dean's needs going way beyond intuition. And he's always so subservient, shy ducks of his head and quick glances up through those fucking eyelashes of his.
Dean's always prided himself on bucking alpha stereotypes, keeping his cool and thinking with his head instead of his knot. But there are certain things about his nature that he can't deny.
Cas is so submissive, and Dean has a well-hidden 5-terabyte drive of porn that will testify to just how much Dean likes wide-eyed submissives with dark hair and gorgeous fuck-me lips.
Oh this is not good, Dean had thought to himself as he jerked off in the shower that morning imagining Cas saying "Yes, sir," to everything Dean wanted to do to him. Dean wanted to do very, very bad things to Cas.
Dean knows the track to regional vice president is not paved with screwing your secretary, so he tries not to stare at Cas' hips as he comes into Dean's office.
Cas has a stack of sales reports in one arm and Dean's coffee in the other. He places Dean's coffee on the desk.
"Will that be all, sir?"
That's another thing, the sir thing. Dean still hasn't bothered correcting that one, and he's not sure he wants to.
"Yes, Cas, that's all of them."
Dean watches Cas shuffle the binders in his arms. "I should have these done by the afternoon, sir." Cas smiles shyly and turns to leave.
Dean goes to sit down and notices a stray binder on his desk. "Oh, Cas, I forgot one."
Cas turns back to Dean so quickly that he drops two of the binders in his haste. He stoops to his knees to pick them up just as Dean steps forward to hand him the extra one.
"Oh, sir, I'm so sorry, how clumsy of me."
Cas is picking up papers and looking flustered so Dean goes to help him.
"Cas, it's ok." Cas stops what he's doing and looks up at Dean.
Dean means to bend down and help Cas, but the sight of him freezes Dean on the spot.
He's blushing, pretty flush on his cheeks, hair all tousled like it always is, face tilted up towards Dean with his lips slightly parted.
Dean once read an article about amputees who suffered phantom pains in their missing limbs. Their sympathetic nervous system never gets the message that, say, a hand is missing, and these people feel sensation in limbs they haven't had for years.
Dean can relate, because he swears he can feel himself reaching out to run his fingers through Cas' hair, how it would be soft but still thick enough that Dean could get a good grip in it. He can almost feel himself pulling that pretty face in to nuzzle against his crotch, hot breath radiating through the imported merino wool of his slacks, perfect fuckable lips running along the hard line of his dick.
Dean can feel all of these things despite the iron will keeping his hands at his sides. He can also feel himself starting to get hard. Dean's sure the sexual harassment coach would have something to say about that, especially given that Cas' face is about a foot away from his crotch.
Cas doesn't seem to have anything to say about it, though, eyes focused on the growing bulge in Dean's pants like it holds the meaning of life. Dean should turn around, dismiss Cas, go for a five mile run and take a cold shower. Instead he steps in a few inches closer, hand coming to rest in his pocket, stretching his pants that much tighter.
Cas breathes in audibly, almost swaying as Dean steps closer. Dean feels a little dizzy too, because sweet mother of Cinnabon that fucking smell is intoxicating, dripping sweet and clouding Dean's vision with images of Cas on his knees like this, naked and collared and dripping wet for Dean's knot. And fuck that's it, isn't it? Cas is wet, that's why he smells like that, like sugar caramel heroin that Dean wants to drown himself in.
Dean flexes his hands and bites his cheek, thinks of his mom and Adler and that time he saw Uncle Rufus get out of the shower and anything else that'll help get his libido in check.
"Thank you, Cas, that's all."
Dean smooths his hand through his hair and turns to face his desk. He doesn't watch as Cas gathers everything up and turns to leave.
Oh this is not good at all.
Dean decides that he needs to channel some of his extra energy into lowering his body fat percentage and resting heart rate. He goes raw for two weeks and adds P90X to his morning workout.
If anything it makes him worse, constant hunger making him even more susceptible to Cas' scent. He hasn't spent this much time jerking off since he was a teenager.
One day he tells Cas to order him a salad, giving him a precise list of what he wants: spinach, carrots, bean sprouts and raw almonds.
Cas leaves a bag on his desk along with the kombucha Dean's been favoring lately. Dean nods his thanks while he talks into his headset and tries not to think about how much he wants to eat Cas' ass until he screams, lick him open and cover his face with that heady slick. Dean can still smell it in his mind if he tries.
Dean sighs and opens his salad, throwing his tie over his shoulder. He picks up his fork and goes to dig into precisely 400 calories of raw goodness.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Dean groans out. His salad has fucking walnuts on it. Dean isn't supposed to eat walnuts. Dean goes to pick them out, means to toss them in the trash and get some raw almonds after work.
Instead, he feels a tiny impulse spreading through him, dangerous little idea that he should really, really ignore.
Dean picks up the phone. "Cas, can you come in here?"
Cas' hair looks even more mussed up than usual. God, it's like he just rolled out of my bed, Dean thinks. He lingers on that image for a second, Cas all sweaty and marked up, Dean's come leaking down his thighs...
"Cas, what are these?" Cas stares down at the walnut Dean has speared on his fork.
"They're walnuts." Cas looks like a deer in headlights.
"Did I order walnuts, Cas?" Cas is breathing faster, rise and fall of his chest mesmerizing Dean.
"No, sir. Oh, I'm so sorry, I'll go get you a new one right now." Cas has his hands behind his back, which Dean has noticed he does when he's nervous.
"Yes you will, Cas." Dean says it soft enough that Cas has to step closer to his desk. "And you're going to skip lunch today as well."
He watches Cas' mouth fall open, watches his pupils dilate at the soft order Dean just issued. Dean knows his own face is mirroring Cas', mouth watering as he smells it, thick, rich scent of Cas' slick, hitting his nose and running through his veins along with the knowledge that Cas is wet just from Dean telling him what to do.
Dean watches as Cas licks at his lips, eyes focusing everywhere but on Dean. His face is flushing red and he smells so fucking good Dean is questioning his sanity.
Dean bites his own lip quickly, deep breath meant to calm him down only making it worse. Fuck, he needs to get Cas out of here before he does something he'll really regret.
"That's all, Cas." Dean digs his fingernails into his palm and watches as Cas picks up Dean's lunch with shaking hands.
"Yes, sir." Cas speaks so softly Dean can barely hear him, but that doesn't mean it makes him any less hard.
Not good at all.
Dean stops by the health food store on his way home. As he pays for his flax seed oil and spirulina powder, something catches his eye in a little display by the register.
Dean gets to work 20 minutes early the next day, stopping at Cas' desk, neat and bare as always, to leave the little tube of cherry chapstick right in the middle of it.
When Cas brings Dean his salad at lunch time, Dean watches as Cas presses his lips together.
"Very good, Cas." Dean is rewarded with another spine-tingling hit of slick, throwing good sense out the window and palming his dick under the desk as he watches Cas blush and rub his lips together.
"Thank you, sir."
Dean opens his salad and thinks that at least he'll be a lean pile of sexual frustration.
Dean generally avoids the break room at work. That place is a diet derailment gateway drug, plus it has shitty coffee.
But once in a while he has to go past it, like today when he needs to hand something to Caleb in PR and Cas is on lunch.
Dean smells it before he hears anything.
Get Cas get Cas get Cas his brain is screaming at him, hackles on his neck going up as he senses that Cas is in trouble. Dean follows his nose and some other, deeper part of himself into the breakroom.
Cas is backed up against the wall, yellow-shirted IT beta guy leaning in way too close. Dean thinks of the whole department as the beta bees, with all the yellow shirts and nary a knot in sight on the whole floor. This guy fits that to a tee, weasely little fucker with a greasy ponytail and a sparse goatee.
Dean sees red. He might have some personal space issues with Cas, but no one else gets to be that close to his ... secretary.
Dean usually hates all that growly possessive alpha shit but right now he couldn't turn it off if his life depended on it. He's growling, actual pit-bull decibel growling at this little bitch who's trying to get up on Dean'smate, and that's not a thought he even has time to process because he's too busy deciding which orifice he's gonna pull weasel bitch's lungs out of.
Dean pins the beta to the wall, forearm slammed against his neck. The man yelps because he's a fucking bitch and Dean's gonna rip his throat out with his teeth and fuck Cas while there's arterial spray on his face and -
"Dean!" Cas is trying to pull him off and he's a lot stronger than he looks and it's the first time Cas has ever said his name.
Dean breathes in a ragged breath and struggles to pull himself together. He tries to stop baring his teeth and fucking growling at the guy, settling on a wolfish version of a smile and a low grumble.
"If you look at him again, they're gonna be picking your fucking teeth out of your kidneys, got it?"
Dean releases his grip on the beta, who grabs his neck and gasps for air.
"I'm sorry, dude, I didn't realize..." He scurries out of the breakroom, leaving Dean alone with Cas and the sinking feeling settling in his stomach as he realizes what just happened.
Dean's heart is still pounding in his ears, and that's not the only thing throbbing, he realizes to his growing horror.
He looks over at Cas, who looks for all the world like he was the one who just got thrown against the wall, cheeks all red and flushed while he breathes hard and steadies himself against the countertop. And hisscent, fuck...
At least Dean wasn't the only one aroused by the Animal Planet documentary he just starred in.
"Cas, fuck ... I'm so sorry..." Dean runs his hand through his hair, tries to smooth it back down.
"No, sir, it's alright, it happens all the time ... I mean, that doesn't happen all the time, but I'm used to being ... accosted, it sort of comes with the territory." Dean realizes that this is the first time Cas has explicitly said anything to him about being on omega. "I could have handled him myself, but ... Thank you. He was a fucking creep."
He's also never heard Cas curse before, and it isn't helping the campaign to kill Dean's raging hard-on.
"No, it was completely inappropriate, Cas, I'll totally understand if you have to report me -"
"Report you?" Cas smiles, bolder than usual and all Dean can think is how pretty it makes him look. "I should buy you a drink." Cas licks his lips. "Sir."
He turns and walks out of the breakroom, leaving his scent behind along with Dean's gaping mouth.
Oh I am so fucked. Dean swallows thickly and tries to walk back to his office without knocking anything over, noting on the way that he lost a cufflink somewhere in the scuffle. He doesn't dare go back to the breakroom to look for it, for fear he might actually rub himself off against the counter Cas was leaning on.
Weasely little bitch, I liked those cufflinks.
The next morning, Dean comes in to find a single cufflink sitting on his desk, on top of a post-it note with "Thank You" written on it in neat script.
Cas has been late exactly zero times, so Dean is worried when he finally comes in at 10 AM. Dean shoots him an email to make sure he's ok.
Cas comes into his office ten minutes later, hovering in front of his door without actually coming inside. “Can I get you anything, sir?”
Cas looks … different. If he were anyone other than Cas, Dean would say he looks high, but that's not it. He looks amazing, eyes shining an unearthly blue, pink flush spread over his face, hair standing up like Dean just fucked his face and used his hair for handles. Because Dean hasn't pictured that little scenario a dozen plus times.
“Cas, can you come in here?” Dean feels like he needs to get a closer look at him, needs to rake his eyes over him until he can remember every square inch of him so he can imagine licking all the good parts when he jerks off later.
Cas hesitates at the door, fingers gripping against the frame like he's fighting a tide pulling him towards Dean.
“Cas, come here.” Dean knows it would be a lie to call that statement anything other than an order.
Cas is breathing heavy, sheen of sweat on his brow as he smiles at Dean.
He watches Cas walk into his office, steps almost swaying as he makes his way to Dean's desk. Dean can't take his eyes off him, he looks so fucking beautiful, sexy and gorgeous and god jesus fucking christ thatscent, it's like Dean can feel it rubbing up against him.
Dean tugs at his tie, because when did it get so fucking hot in here? His suspenders are itching at his shoulders and his mouth won't stop watering and holy fuck he's getting hard and what the fuck is going on with Cas?
Cas staggers closer and makes it about three inches before Dean promptly loses his fucking mind.
There's no other way he can describe it. Dean's never been into hard drugs but he knows that this is what opiates feel like, everything narrowed down to this pinpoint sing the fucking body electric urge, fucking christ Dean feels like he'd claw his own eyes out just to get at Cas.
He's up and out of his chair so fast it spins, leather seat still whirling around as Dean grabs Cas and molds him to his body, pressing in on every inch he can get to as tightly as possible.
Cas smells like heaven, like everything Dean needs in life, and Dean takes a moment to bury his face in Cas' hair like he's stopped himself from doing a million times. It is so much better than Dean ever let himself imagine.
“Oh god, Cas, fuck,” Dean husks out, words escaping him as his hands map every inch of Cas' back and his mouth closes on Cas', rough press of those plump, ripe cherry chapstick lips a million times better than Dean could have dreamed. Cas is moaning into his mouth, high-pitched keening sound like he's begging, desperate for Dean.
Jesus christ he's in heat, Dean didn't even think that happened any more, knows there's pills for it but fuck the pills, fuck them to hell because Cas should be like this all the time. Dean's one remaining brain cell that isn't focused on the quickest way to remove the bare minimum of clothing required to pound Cas into tomorrow tries to get Dean to focus, remember that omegas don't think straight when they're like this. Dean tries, he really does.
“Cas, do you …” It's painful to stop kissing him, tear his mouth away and speak. “Do you want this?” Dean's holding him so tight Cas can barely breathe, but he turns his face up to Dean with such a dead-set expression that Dean fears for his life.
“Sir … please,” two words growled out in the most desperate, animal tone Dean can imagine, Cas shaking in his arms as Dean scrabbles blindly at the omega's pants, mouth locked back on his as Cas tries to lick his fillings out of his teeth with the force of his kisses.
Dean's running blind, knocking shit off his desk as fast as he can, metal balls of his desk metronome clanking against the floor as Dean rips, not unzips, rips Cas' fly open.
Dean pulls them over to the desk, sucking Cas' tongue into his mouth one last time before his spins him around and pushes him down to bend over the desk. Cas' pants are down around his ankles but his briefs are still on, and Dean hates them with a passion.
“Jesus fucking christ, Cas,” Dean scratches Cas' ass in his haste to pull those fucking briefs off, “way you smell, way you look, fuck, wanted you the day I saw you.” Dean stops when he gets Cas' underwear down far enough to expose his hole, scent of his slick wafting up to strangle Dean, cloud his vision as he goes into alphamatic.
When Dean has imagined this happening, he's taken his time, slowly undressed Cas, explored every inch of him, licked Cas open until he's squirming and begging for Dean to knot him. He's made Cas come two or three times before he fucks him, made him crawl on his hands and knees and suck Dean's cock and fuck himself with his fingers while Dean told him what a pretty, perfect bitch he was.
All of that shit flies right out Dean's mid-level view wraparound office window when he sees Cas like this, bare-assed and bent over his desk.
“So fucking wet for me, aren't you?” Dean can't bear to take his hands off of Cas long enough to get his suspenders off in one go, so he shrugs them off one at a time, free hand gripping into the meat of Cas' ass to pull him open.
“Make you mine, Cas, mark you up inside until everyone knows who you belong to.” Dean sends the button of his slacks flying across the room, zipper barely down far enough when he pulls his cock out.
Dean's hand is wrapped around his cock, hand already on Cas' hip to steady himself when Cas turns his head to the side, cheek pressed against the desk to cast his eyes back at Dean.
“Yes, sir,” Cas moans out, mouth hanging open as he arches his back and fucking presents himself to Dean, and that is just fucking it. Dean braces his hand on the small of Cas' back and thrusts into him as slow as he can manage, which is twice as fast as usual but nothing about this is familiar to Dean any more.
Dean's had sex before, and plenty of it, but it's only been with beta girls and that one alpha back at Stanford. Lisa was a fucking animal in bed, and Dean almost feels bad comparing her to Cas because anything Dean has ever thought of as sex is 7-up in a champagne glass next to this. It's not even on the same spectrum.
Cas is so tight , hot and wet inside, rippling grip on Dean's cock that feels too good to be true. Cas is gasping under him and pawing at the desk for purchase as Dean buries himself in his omega.
“So fucking tight Cas, jesus fuck,” Dean growls out, leaning down to lay his hands over Cas' and press himself against his back. “You ever done this before?” The thought that Cas might be a virgin shouldn't make Dean so excited in theory, but in practice it's making his knot start to swell up.
“Not ...” Cas whimpers as Dean bucks into him. “Not with an alpha.” Dean feels the rumble in his chest for a few seconds before he realizes that it's coming from him, exultant thrill singing through him as his hips snap forward hard enough to make Cas yelp. Dean is first, only knot Cas is ever gonna take, alpha growl spilling out through his teeth as he bears down on Cas' neck.
“You're mine, Cas, mine.” Dean can hear the desk shaking underneath him as he ploughs into Cas' ass. Cas is trembling, sweat soaking through his shirt. “Wanted you so fucking bad, Cas, drove me fucking crazy.”
Cas is doing something that would sound like sobbing if he wasn't also smiling and arching his hips back like Dean could possibly get himself in any further.
“Slick yourself up getting on your knees for me, think I didn't notice?” Cas moans at that, grip around Dean's cock getting impossibly tighter. “Know what you need, Cas, gonna take care of you, baby,” Dean licks a stripe up the back of Cas' neck, salty sweet hitting his tongue as Cas whimpers and ruts himself back against Dean's swelling knot. “Make you my little slut, perfect little bitch for me.”
Dean's grateful that he's already bent over the desk because he just might black out as he hears Cas scream out some incoherent string of sounds and fucking jesus fuck he's coming, tight ring of muscle working against Dean's cock like a vise. Dean doesn't even realize that he's closed his teeth over the nape of Cas' neck, claiming bite sinking into him as the scent of Cas' come makes his mouth water. Drooling onto the back of someone's neck would not have been on Dean's list of most awesome shit ever but it's totally going into the top ten ranking after this.
Dean can't pull his teeth off Cas, knows he should probably be kissing him and telling him that he's gonna take care of him forever and never let him go, but it's perfect like this, hands gripped into Cas' against his desk, growl he's never heard come out of himself resonating through his chest and into the perfect, mewling pile of sex trapped beneath him.
It hits him square between the eyes, so intense he picks Cas' hand up right along with his and pounds it against the desk, growls some endless looped combination of Cas and Mine and Fuck against his omega's neck as he comes, screams as it's ripped out of him, from some deeper part of himself that knows he's claiming Cas for life, painting him white on the inside so they can both start over together fresh and new.
Cas might be saying, “Yes, sir,” under Dean, but all Dean can hear is the rush of blood in his ears and what he could swear is Cas' heartbeat as his knot swells inside his mate, locks them together as Dean fills him with white heat and moans as he feels Cas ripple around him and milk it all out, omega sighing out in sated exhaustion. Dean manages to unlock his jaw and bury his nose in Cas' hair, close his eyes and smell him as he bucks his hips and grunts with each wave of come pumping out of him.
Dean's still feeling high and fuzzy when he hears a knock on his door, snapping his neck around to bare his teeth at the intruder, some new guy from IT. Dean flares his nostrils and growls when he smells the guy, seems like they finally hired an alpha up there, lanky tall guy with floppy hair and foxy eyes that are doubling in size as he stares and staggers at the smell in the air.
“Not a good time,” Dean manages to grate out, knot tied up in Cas' ass the only thing keeping him from killing the guy.
“Uh, yeah, I can see that, I'm just, um, wow, that's, yeah, alright then,” the other alpha steps back slowly. “I'm just gonna, um, close the door, act like this never happened, ok?” He shakes his head and pulls the door closed behind him as he backs away like he's afraid to take his eyes off Dean.
Dean hears Cas let out a low laugh, and it clears his head enough that he can laugh, too.
“Well that was ...” Cas huffs out a breath.
“Yeah.” Dean still has his fingers clasped over Cas' hands, so he just squeezes them. “Cas … what happened?”
“I, um, forgot to take my pills?” Cas up-talks that one into an unsure question that Dean already knows the answer to.
“I fucking hate,” Dean presses a kiss to the side of Cas' neck, “those pills.” Dean plants another kiss to the back of his neck, right over the bruise that's already starting to form. “I meant everything, Cas, wanted you so bad.”
“Yeah, you meant everything?” Cas rolls his neck and sighs as Dean sucks his earlobe into his mouth. “Even that last part that made me spooge on your desk?” Cas gasps as Dean nips at him. “Sir?”
“God, you are fucking perfect, aren't you?” Dean releases his grip on Cas' hands so he can wrap them around his waist, awkward angle while he's still stuck inside him but totally worth it when Cas moans at the contact.
“And you're all mine.”