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To be an Alpha in society was to put you at the top of the heap, as it were. Alphas were dominant, aggressive, huge, in some cases. The definition of manhood, or so it was traditionally thought (though over the last few centuries the number of dissenting voices had grown exponentially). They held all the top positions in government, in finance, in everything. They were the best hunters. To be able to get pregnant, whether you were female or male, put you at an enormous disadvantage; as far as society was concerned, you were likely to roll over, to submit, to spread your legs to any Alpha with a good enough scent. You were a burden, something to be worked around.

So it was rather a surprise for everyone when Dean Winchester first went into heat.

Well. ‘Everyone’ in this case being all of three people: Dean, his brother, and his father. It wasn’t like anyone else knew.

It started as an ache, deep down in Dean’s gut, and woke him up from a dream he forgot as soon as his eyes opened. He’d groaned, curled in on himself, and pressed his face into his pillow to muffle any further noise- Sam was asleep in the next bed over, and it wouldn’t do to wake him early. The room was freezing, what with it being December and all, but he soon began to feel too hot, kicking his covers to the bottom of his bed before returning to his earlier foetal position and staying like that until half seven, when it was time to start on Sam’s breakfast. Their dad would be returning that morning- he’d called Dean to say so the evening before- but if anything, that only meant Dean would have to go for a cooked breakfast, and make a lot of it.

John made it back on time, for once. But when Dean turned around, to greet him, his dad was standing in the doorway, and his eyes weren’t on the food. They were on him. And they were horrified.

A moment later, John moved towards the beds, shaking Sam awake and shoving a coat and shoes at him before bundling him out the door. Dean had been left there, frying pan in hand and on the verge of frightened tears until Sam shuffled awkwardly back in, handing him a pharmacy bag and a note before running back out.

The note explained things. He was an omega, an omega in heat, and since John was an Alpha, it wasn’t a good idea for him to be around Dean right now. Sam, too, just in case.

(It took Dean several years before the reason why hit him. He wasn’t physically sick, but it was a close call.)

The explanation made sense, and after he’d taken his first suppressants, the ache in his gut eased off a little. Dean buried his earlier hurt down, just like he did everything else, and apart from his Dad spending the next few months concentrating on Dean’s self-defence skills, the subject was never raised again.

At least, not for another decade or so.


See, the kind of life they led made it kind of easy to forget things that weren’t directly related to hunting. Suppressants were important, sure, but for some reason, between his brother being soulless, Crowley and his extended family being domineering, bossy douchewads, making deals with Death, and his best friend fighting a civil war, trips to the pharmacy were all too easily crowded out. Sure, Dean had always been careful to stock up before, but his supplies gradually dwindled. Each time he opened a new box, he promised himself he’d go to the pharmacy the next time he could, and each time he forgot, until sunrise one morning found him on the floor of a motel bathroom, doubled up and finding nothing but empty boxes in his bag.

“Shit,” he muttered, tossing piles of bandages and industrial strength painkillers to the floor. “Shit, shit, shit.” Sam would be back soon, and-

“Dean?” Outside, the motel room door clicked shut. Dean let his head thump back against the shower cubicle with a groan, rubbing a hand over his face. “Dean, what’s... oh.” Sam appears in the doorway, Starbucks bag in hand, nostrils flaring as if he’s sniffing something out, pupils dilating as he stares at Dean.

Fuck his life.

He smelled good though, it has to be said. Dean’s body cried out for it- Alpha, it’s an Alpha, fucking mate already- and he wanted to claw at himself in disgust. “Yeah.” He swallowed. “You might wanna go.”

“Yeah. That- yeah, I’ll just...” Sam disappeared, and there was the sound of something being set down on the table before the motel door clicked open and shut again, letting Dean know he was gone. Thank God. Dean might still have been curled up on a bathroom floor, might still have been in the middle of a fucking heat, might have been aching all over as his temperature soared, but at least his body wasn’t trying to get him to fuck his brother.

It was something, at least.

After a few more minutes of half-hearted searching, he gave up on his quest for suppressants. Instead he pulled himself to his feet with a groan, staggering towards his bed and flopping down on top of the covers; the mattress may have been lumpy, and he didn’t know if Sam was going to do a supply run and get him something to end it early, or if it was going to last the full several days it did without meds, but like fuck was he riding it out on the floor.

He didn’t sleep. Between the pain and the whole temperature thing (he refused to call it hot flushes), it was pretty much impossible to focus on anything else.

Anything, that was, except the smell of an Alpha. That overrode everything else. So when it hung heavy in the air again, Dean rolled over. “Sam?”

“Dean.” And no, that was definitely not his brother. But why-? “Sam said you would be needing this.” Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel standing over him, holding out a paper pharmacy bag, which Dean assumed held suppressants. Sam must’ve figured Castiel wasn’t an Alpha, or that he’d be able to resist the whole mating thing, given he was an angel and all.

Not that that really occurred to Dean; the heat was blocking out most thoughts except ‘fuck, shit, yes, Alpha, finally’.

“Dean?” Suddenly Cas was a lot closer, and the smell, Jesus. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Dean told him. The ache spiked then, as if to spite him, and he curled up tighter. “Yes. But I...”

“What? What is it, Dean?”

Was it his imagination or did his voice sound even huskier than normal? Either way, when his hand moved to rest against Dean’s forehead, it was all Dean could do not to grab it, hold it there, grab him. “Hm.”


“I had not realised the phrase ‘going into heat’ was quite so literal.”

Dean gave a weak snort. “Yeah, well. You learn something new every day.”

“I do,” Castiel agreed. “Although I will admit that I remain decidedly ignorant of this aspect of the human condition.”

Dean glanced down to the tent in his pants and smirked. “But your body isn’t.”

“What- oh. No. Jimmy had a child, remember?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Dean frowns. “Wait. You said had.”

Castiel looked uncomfortable. “Yes, I... He no longer inhabits this body. He passed on when Raphael smote me.”

“Oh,” Dean said, intelligently. Then, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It was not your fault. He is at peace now.” Castiel moved to stand a little abruptly. “But I did not- I should go.”

“No!” Dean grabbed at his arm almost desperately, then drew back. His heat hadn’t fucked him up so much that he couldn’t feel shame. “I, uh. I mean.”

Castiel regarded him for a moment. “Would you like me to stay?”

“Yes,” Dean blurted out. Then he swallowed. “Please.”

Castiel nodded and sat down on the edge of the bed obligingly, hands in his lap like he didn’t quite know what to do with them. It took a few moments for Dean to realise he was still holding his arm. He loosened his grip (though if anything, he wanted to be touching Castiel more), and with a muttered “sorry” was about to let his hand fall away altogether when Castiel stopped him.

“Don’t be. I- this body is appreciative of touch. Your touch, specifically.”

“Oh,” said Dean. And he knew it was a bad idea, knew it was a really bad idea, but that didn’t stop him from opening his mouth again (and when had it ever?) “Where else?”

Castiel blinked at him. “I don’t-”

“Where else,” Dean repeated, propping himself up on one elbow, “would you like me to touch you?”

“I...” Castiel swallowed. “I think everywhere? I am not familiar with any of this.”

 “Do you want to be?”

Castiel stared at him, and Dean could barely see a sliver of blue around his pupils. “Yes.”

That was all the encouragement Dean needed to grab Castiel by the lapels and pull him down for a kiss. There was a surprised ‘mmph!’ from the angel, and their teeth clacked together awkwardly, but before long they were kissing properly, and what Castiel lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. Not that Dean really cared how sloppy the kiss was; right at that moment, he was more concerned about moving things along. He hated to rush anyone’s first time, but going slow was gonna have to wait until later, once Castiel had knotted him, and Jesus Christ Dean needed to stop thinking about that or he was going to come in his boxers right then.

For all that he was keeping his mouth busy, Castiel’s hands were hovering over Dean like he wasn’t sure what to do with them, which he probably didn’t. Dean reached to tug them down, then decided it’d be easier if they were lying down, and so broke the kiss to shuffle back across the bed, holding out a hand to Castiel. “C’mon.”

Castiel followed, staring at Dean so intently that he almost fell flat on his face when his foot snagged in the duvet. Not that Dean minded- it would have been fairly hypocritical to, given he was staring right back. He reached out to pull Castiel down beside him, and he went down unresistingly, which, well. Being able to pull something which Dean knew to be a whole lot stronger than him around was surprisingly hot.

He wasted no time thinking that over, though, instead leaning in to get back to the business of kissing the living daylights out of Castiel as he moved to straddle him. His boxers were fucking soaked by this point, and he was pretty sure that grinding down on Castiel like he was was going to leave some kind of mark, but he didn’t give a shit. It was kind of hard to, given the way Castiel was moaning- and fuck, he had a voice like a fucking porn star- and bucking up against him on instinct. “Dean!”

“Easy, Cas,” Dean murmured, tugging Castiel’s hands to rest on his hips. “I’ve got you.”

Castiel moaned again. “Dean, I- I want...”

He sounded surprised by the idea, almost scared. “What do you want, Cas? To fuck me? Want to knot in my tight little hole and mate with me?”

“Yes,” gasped Castiel. “Dean, please.”

“Ssh, ssh. I know. You will, just in a minute, okay?”

Castiel nodded, gripping Dean’s hips hard enough that he was pretty sure there’d be bruises later, but hey, he could deal. He reached down between them, shifting back a little so he could undo the fastenings on Cas’ trousers, grinning at the way Castiel whimpered at even the slightest of pressure down there. A few moments later, Dean was pulling both his trousers and briefs down his legs – and God, his cock. Even without a knot it was bigger than Dean’s, and he’d have been a bit apprehensive about having it inside him were it not for the way his whole body was practically screaming in want.

He felt Castiel’s hands stroke down his hips to his legs, taking Dean’s boxers down with them, and whimpered as the fabric brushed over his dick. Finally, finally, they were down properly, and Dean had a moment to break away and kick them off before Castiel was pulling him back down, and it seemed like he’d figured out what to do with his hands – they were running all over Dean, up his back, round to his chest and over his shoulders until one of them settled at the handprint on his shoulder, and Dean found himself almost dizzy with pleasure, Jesus Christ...

“Dean.” Castiel looked pained, had he said that out loud? “I have not brought Sam into this. Please extend me the same courtesy.”

“Shit. Sorry.” He might have asked him more about the whole Jesus thing under other circumstances, but that really wasn’t the time. Instead he took advantage of the break in the kiss to explore Castiel’s neck, kissing and licking and sucking at the skin above his collar until he stumbles on a spot on the side of his neck that made Castiel writhe against him. A moment later Castiel’s hands were moving again- or at least, the one not at his shoulder was, stroking down Dean’s back to his ass and further down, to run through the wetness between his legs.

It was the way Castiel brought it back up to his mouth that did it for Dean.  The angel’s tongue flicked out to taste it, then, with a soft moan, his eyelids fluttering, he sucked his finger into his mouth. Dean bit down on a moan of his own and by the time Castiel opened his eyes again he was kneeling over his cock, his last shred of self-control the only thing keeping him from sinking down onto it just yet, because he had to be sure.

“This what you want?”

Castiel visibly swallowed, nodding almost frantically, reaching for Dean with almost-trembling hands that eventually came to settle on his hips again. “Dean, I- yes. Please.”

And Dean let go, dropping his hips down sharply until Castiel’s cock was buried halfway inside him. At which point his body decided that, what with it being his first time taking it up the ass and all, maybe he should have taken that a little slower. Just a tiny bit.

“Shit.” None of the omega information packs he’d read had mentioned this. Not that he’d read them that intently- he’d figured he’d be on suppressants his whole life- but he’d got the general impression that if you were up for mating, your hole would just... take it. Except that that was apparently not how it worked, and fuck that actually kinda hurt.


Dean gritted his teeth and shook his head, sucking in a slow, steadying breath. “M’fine. Just give me a second, yeah?”

“Of course.” Castiel was still for a while before his thumbs started moving across Dean’s hips in a way that he was assuming was meant to be soothing. Which- well, he could appreciate the intention, but he figured that if they wanted things to pick up again, then his hips probably aren’t the best place to focus on, and as such he gently pulled one of Cas’ hands round to his cock, wrapping both his hands around his in turn, and gently started him stroking. Castiel seemed torn between staring at Dean’s face and at what was happening between his legs, but he slowly got the hang of things, even thumbing just beneath the head of Dean’s cock, unbidden. Dean groaned. “Fuck yeah, Cas, just like that.”

“Dean.” Castiel’s eyes were wide and there was a slight tremor to his movements. “Dean, I- ngh!”

Dean grinned, having just pushed himself further down Castiel’s cock. He’d have waited longer, but he can feel the knot swelling already, and he really doesn’t want to have it outside him when it finishes off. His ass still isn’t entirely happy (though the rest of him only wants him to take things faster still), but what the hey. “You okay there, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel groaned. “So tight, Dean.”

“Yeah, I know.” Dean lowered himself down the rest of the way, still smiling, though it had become a tiny bit more forced. Someone was yelling a few rooms down, but he barely noticed, all his attention on the angel beneath him and the wealth of newness that this whole encounter was full of.

Also the pain in his ass. But he was trying not to focus on that.

He started rocking his hips slowly, feeling Cas’ cock swell inside him. “’S only gonna get better. ‘Cause I’m gonna get tighter, and tighter, and tighter around you,” he promises, punctuating every other word with a circling motion of his hips. “Like that. Can you feel it?”

“Yes. Yes, Dean.” The bruising grasp on his hip was back, though the one on his cock had slackened, which was probably a good thing, given how strong Cas was, and how he was gradually losing his control, piece by piece. It was fucking hot- fucking glorious- to be the first to take him apart like this, to be the first to see him moan and writhe and gasp, but Dean still had some self preservation instincts left to him, even like this. All he needed right now was for Cas to come, for his heat to just fuck off already, so he could put that Alpha stamina to good use. His pleasure could wait.

Dean fucked himself down onto his knot, feeling the stretch of it in him, the slick that was coating his ass and smearing over Castiel’s hips as he chanted Dean’s name over and over again. Under any other circumstances he’d have been embarrassed, but right then, he couldn’t bring himself to care. The slight twinge of pain every time he moved started to fade into the background, though it spiked up again when Castiel’s hips bucked up towards him. Dean’s gasp was almost a hiss, but with one, two more thrusts, Castiel was gone with a shudder and a shout of “Dean!”

...okay, having someone come inside him was really weird. Not unpleasant, just odd. But as Dean shifted, he felt his heat ebbing away, apparently sated. It took him a moment or two to look past the relief and notice the look on Castiel’s face, which bordered on terror.

“Hey. You okay?”

Castiel swallowed, almost like he was trying to steady his breathing, though Dean could’ve sworn he hadn’t needed to breathe in the first place. “I think so. What was that?”

“That,” said Dean, smirking just ever so slightly, “was what usually happens at the end of sex. Or in the middle as well, if you’re doing it like this. I think.”

“I see.” Castiel frowned. “Is it not meant to happen to both of us?”

“Oh, yeah. It will.” At least, Dean and his hand were gonna be spending a lot of quality time together after this if it didn’t, but it wasn’t technically- oh. Fuck. Was that...?

Yep. His heat was coming back. Fuck.


Dean blinked down at him, then shrugged and rolled his hips again, smiling at the moan it got from Cas. “Whenever.” Castiel was still frowning; Dean was pretty sure he was on the verge of a head tilt. “What?”

“Nothing,” Castiel told him, looking entirely sincere. A moment later, his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock and tugged.

“Ngh!” Dean yelped (and would forever deny having done so). “The fuck, Cas?”

Castiel lets go of him, looking faintly abashed. “I thought, since you reacted favourably to it before...”

“Yeah, no. There’s stroking someone’s cock, and then there’s trying to pull it off.”


Dean shook his head. “Don’t be. Just do it like I showed you before, okay? Like this.” He manipulated Castiel’s hand back to where it had been, though not before swiping it through the mess of slick between them, and let go. Castiel was hesitant at first, pausing every so often as if to check that Dean was still okay with it, his touches feather-light, but Dean encouraged him, murmuring “yeah,” and “that’s it, Cas,” and “bit faster, fuck,” until Castiel’s grip became surer, and the sounds of pleasure Dean was making for him got a whole lot more authentic.

But his heat was making itself known again, and so Dean leaned forward, putting his hands to the mattress. He was pretty sure Cas was safely knotted inside him now; time to up the pace a bit. Castiel frowned at him. “Dean, what-?”

“You’ll see.” Dean grinned, raising his hips until Castiel’s knot tugged at his entrance, then slamming them down again. The movement wrenched a groan from Castiel’s throat, his grip on Dean’s cock faltering for a moment before it picked u p again; as Dean’s movements sped up, so did his hand, and fuck was that good. Especially when- “oh, shit!”- Dean sat up a little and the knot started rubbing against something that sparked a jolt of pleasure through him. “Fuck, Cas...”

Castiel was back to his mantra of Dean’s name, the words hitching every so often as Dean fucked himself down onto his knot, and the sound, for all that Dean was more used to a higher-pitched voice, was pretty fucking hot. Still, it wasn’t until he moved his arm, his hand twisting around Dean’s cock, that Dean came, his head tossed back, mouth open soundlessly as he half-spasmed around Castiel, who was far from quiet when he followed suit. Dean felt his heat abate again, and he almost groaned with relief.

He only had a few moments to catch his breath, though, before it was back again, and hitting a whole lot harder than last time. “Fuck...”

“Dean?” Castiel was staring at him, looking more than a little concerned.

“I’m fine,” Dean told him, even as his temperature spiked up again. “I just... I don’t know. I kinda assumed that sex would make this,” he gestured to himself, “go, or something.”

Castiel’s face softened. “And it hasn’t?”

“What do you think?”

There’s quiet for a moment, and Dean’s on the verge of saying sorry or something, maybe just riding him again, he really doesn’t know, when Cas suddenly sits up, his hands at Dean’s back keeping him from toppling over backwards. Dean would be annoyed, but it’s kinda hard to be when he’s looking so fucking earnest. “What can I do to help?”

“I dunno.” Dean felt tiredness creeping up on him; he was almost tempted to rest his head on Castiel’s shoulder. “This, I guess. I mean, it’s gotta stop at some point, right?” Maybe when Cas was done, maybe... fuck, he didn’t know. This would be what he got for never sticking in one school long enough to attend sex ed anywhere outside Texas.

“If that is what you want.” Castiel thrust up a little awkwardly and Dean bit back a whimper.

“No, wait, what about... I mean, do you? Want to, I mean.” Dean’s brain was quietly shorting out, but Castiel seemed to understand.

“Yes, he told him, “but I am not entirely sure how to proceed. The positioning of my pants is making it difficult to maintain my balance.”

Dean craned his head round to look, and yeah, the way Cas’ pants were bunched up around his ankles couldn’t be making it easy for him. At least not when he was like that. And Dean really couldn’t see himself being able to reach over and take them and Cas’ shoes off any time soon, either. “Can’t you just, I dunno, mojo them away?”

“...yes.” Castiel sounded annoyed with himself, like he hadn’t thought of it before- Dean would have found it funny, the idea that sex could play such havoc with even his mind, if he hadn't been so focused on his heat- and a moment later, Castiel was naked from the waist down. Much better. Dean leant back a little, Castiel’s arms keeping him from going much further, and wrapped one of his own arms around Castiel’s neck as they rock together, the other fumbling for his cock.

It’s intimate like this, in a way Dean wasn't entirely sure he liked. Castiel kept staring at him like he was a fucking work of art or something, and he ducked his head to avoid his gaze. That wasn't really something he wanted, not then. So he found other things to focus on- like getting Castiel's shirt undone. He was pretty sure he took off a button or two in the process, but hey, it was covered in come already, what was a little more damage? And it wasn't like Castiel was complaining much. Not when Dean accidentally scraped his nails down his now-bare chest in trying to tug the shirt away, oh no- that earned him a loud inhale, bordering on a moan.

“Dean,” he groaned, his hips bucking up, and Dean ground down on him all the harder in response.

“Fuck yes, c’mon Cas, I’ve got you, fuck...”

Castiel’s eyes fluttered closed as he came for the third time, trembling almost imperceptibly. Dean’s hand fell away from his chest and back to his cock, but barely has he touched it before the relief brought on by Castiel’s orgasm started to dissipate, and he very nearly sobbed in frustration as the heat and the ache return again.

When Castiel moved, Dean didn’t see it coming; one moment he was in Castiel's lap, the next he was on his back with Castiel kissing him hard as he thrust into him and okay, he could live with the heat a little while longer if it meant that he got this. Especially now that Cas had hold of his cock too, shit. Dean gasped out a moan, clutching at the pillow, only vaguely registering the way the headboard was slamming against the wall.

“Ohfuck.” The air for even that was suddenly hard to come by. “Fuck, Cas, I’m gonna-”

Castiel’s free hand moved to his shoulder, the scarred one, and Dean cried out. “Do it. Let go, Dean.”

And, well. As if he’s going to disobey an order like that. Dean came with a hoarse cry, Castiel following suit again a few moments later... and the speed with which his heat ebbed is almost dizzying when combined with the speed with which it returned.

“Dean?” Castiel sounded concerned. Dean just groaned.

“S’fine. Just... fuck me. Please.”

Castiel looked slightly perturbed but obeyed nonetheless, albeit with less power behind his thrusts than before. Apparently the exhaustion Dean was feeling ever more keenly was starting to get to him, too. Dean just wrapped his legs around his waist and held on, unable to do much more. Castiel came inside him once again- and Jesus fuck, even with the knot Dean had no idea how the stuff wasn't leaking out of him already, knew it was gonna make a huge mess when it did- and still the heat wasn’t sated. Finally, Castiel slowed to a stop, panting. “This isn’t working,” he announced, a little breathlessly.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Castiel stared at him, then shook his head minutely, as if he had been considering asking after that particular reference and had decided he was better off not knowing. “What do you need?”

“I need...” Dean ran a hand through his hair. “I need for this to be over so I can fucking sleep.”

Castiel nodded, considering. “Your reproductive cycle is beyond my control, I’m afraid, but I think I could help you with the latter.”


“I could put you to sleep,” he told Dean, raising his hand with the index and middle fingers extended. “It would not solve the problem, but it would at least assist you with the side effects.”

Dean stared at him, then nodded. Fuck it. “Yeah. Please.” It was borderline begging, but at this point he didn’t even care.

Castiel obediently pressed his fingers to his forehead, his touch gentle as anything, and Dean was already sinking into sleep when he murmured.

“Sleep well.”


It’s dark outside by the time Dean stirs, blinking against the light from the lamp on the desk. Sam looked up from the book in front of him. “Hey. You okay?”

“I... think so, yeah.” Dean sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. He felt a lot better, at least. And hey, would you look at that. His heat was over already. Maybe Cas had found something he could do to fix it. Cleaned up the mess they left, too- Dean couldn’t even smell anything out of the ordinary, which, given the state the room had been in when he went to sleep, was pretty impressive. He sat up, and Sam looked away as the blanket covering him slipped down around his waist.

“I’m guessing Cas got those suppressants to you, huh.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he did.” Dean glanced over to the pharmacy bag on the side table, with its unopened box inside.

“Good. That’s good. I was kinda worried they wouldn’t work- I heard something about them not taking effect once you were already in heat?- but I guess we don’t have to worry about that.”

“Yeah, I’d say we’re good.” Dean got up, smirking a little at the bitchface Sam pulled at his nakedness, and sauntered towards the bathroom. “Any idea where Cas went, by the way?”

“Nope. Took off before I got back.”

“Huh.” Well, Dean guessed it was probably a good thing Castiel hadn't hung around to do his Edward Cullen act while he slept, at least. Though there was a tiny part of him that might have preferred him staying, that might have been crying out for strong arms, the scent of an alpha- his alpha- a warm body to cling to. His mate. Except that was stupid, because they hadn’t mated, they'd just fucked, and for all that Castiel apparently had magical healing cock powers or something, Dean was pretty certain he wasn't after more than that.

So that was where he left it- good sex, possibly with magical healing powers involved, definitely with magical cleanup powers, all done between friends. Castiel looked at him a little oddly, sure, and developed a habit of looking rather further down Dean’s body than his eyes, too, but hey, Dean of all people knew how distracting sex thoughts could be. It was fine.

Or at least it was at first. It wasn’t until after things went to hell, after Castiel betrayed them and unleashed the Leviathans and then went and fucking died on them, that Dean found himself in the bathroom at Bobby's house, clutching a pregnancy test and feeling distinctly dizzy as the shape in the little window resolved itself into a tiny ‘+’.