Dean gives the man a fake smile. It’s one of those Progressive Alphas who claim that their way stands for equality between all. Equality as in double Dutching on dates and skipping out straight after a fuck, not even knotting properly because ‘Omegas deserve to own their own sexuality too.’ They claim that allowing hormones and instincts to steer makes it impossible to give informed consent. It’s all a load of bull. Even in the peak point of your Heat or Rut, it’s all very possible to think and make informed decisions. Even if the thoughts and decisions are ‘fuckmefuckmefuckme’. The Progressives wants to invalidate that as somehow not counting. Granted, the Progressive movement had started as a counter movement to the Conservatives. Or, as Dean liked to call them - the religious nutjobs. They claim Omegas belong to a weaker gender. They claim an Omega should stick to one partner, obey said partner as if you were fucking property, stay at home raising babies, because apparently, that’s what their God decreed about 500 years ago. It goes completely against instinct and natural behaviour of their species. Still, it had won traction, and might have been much more prevalent if it wasn’t for male Omegas like Dean. They are rarer than female ones, somewhere between ⅓ to ⅕ of the Omega population, but enough to dispel the myth that being Omega somehow made you physically weaker by equalling female physique with gender. Omegas are tough as shit no matter sex. Still, when it comes to sex, Dean prefers a repressed Conservative before a Progressive any day. Because the Conservative might want to hide it, but they did act out the instinctual behaviours in private.
Dean is neither Conservative nor Progressive. He’s a Primal and not ashamed of it. He raises his hand in a stopping gesture, interrupting the anecdote the man is telling him. “Yeah, no, buddy. Let me stop you right there. You’re wasting your time. I ain’t buying what you’re selling.” To underline his statement he lets his eyes flare, silvery green overtaking his usual dark green colour.
The Alpha has the audacity to snap into lecturing mode. “You shouldn’t do that. Omegas too should be in control of their sexuality and not slaves under―”
A voice from Dean’s other side interrupts them. “The Omega is quite clearly very much in control of his sexuality, and made it known that you would not be partaking in any indulgences with him. So do yourself a favour and politely walk away from the rejection.”
Dean and the Progressive Alpha turn as one to the speaker. Further down the bar, a strict looking black man in an expensive suit leans his elbows on the bar nursing a cognac. Dean lifts his head and shamelessly scents in the speaker's direction while the Progressive’s nostrils flare discreetly, trying not to show that he’s using one of his primal senses to scent the speaker.
The speaker is an Alpha around the age of 30, maybe late 20s. His scent (fucking delicious) bears no trace of being mated, although, he does bear traces of other Alphas he’s related to, so it’s possible that he’s just met up with siblings, uncles, or other relatives. (Or he could be a Packrunner, but the chances of that are so small Dean doesn’t even consider it a viable option.) There is no underlying marker of where in his cycle he is, which 99.9% means he’s on suppressants. He smells clean and healthy, no notes of physical distress like disease, hunger, or chronic pain would bring.
Dean’s trying to guess whether he’s a Conservative or a Progressive since scent can’t tell him that, when the speaker―thinking the other Alpha took too long to respond―flares. His dark brown eyes are overtaken by a rose pink shine.
The Progressive Alpha at his side swiftly backs away. He can claim not to be ruled by the more animalistic aspects of their behaviour but he’s not dumb enough to ignore when another Alpha postures using primal functions. It’s all on a civilized level. Neither Dean nor the pink-eyed Alpha have dropped their fangs.
Dean’s never seen pink eyes before. Not even in movies. In movies, they always gave Omegas yellow eyes and Alphas red. Dean’s never seen red eyes in real life either. Most of the population have some shade of yellow, Alphas and Omegas alike. Dean’s whitish green are an anomaly.
It’s a disappointment when the Alpha’s eyes turn brown again and he turns his head away towards the cognac as soon as the rejected man disappears.
Dean sits quietly for a while side-eyeing the pink-eyed Alpha. He's in preheat hoping to score and frankly a bit miffed at the lack of interest shown. Maybe he's Conservative and has pious rules to follow? “So you're not out to score tonight, huh?”
The Alpha looks up and gives Dean a quizzical look. Dean winks and smiles to clarify that he's indeed talking to him.
“Is that an option?”
The answer is a resounding yes, but Dean likes to be a bit pampered so he says “It might be…”
The Alpha regards Dean, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully for a moment. Dean’s beginning to think that the guy genuinely isn’t interested. It happens. He might be one of those who only likes female Omegas for an instance. But then the Alpha seems to make up his mind, grabs his drink and saunters up to Dean, posture downright regal. “May I buy you a drink?”
Now that’s what Dean’s about. He smirks lopsidedly. “You may. In fact, you may buy me several.”
The Alpha smiles for the first time and chuckles. “Very well. Do you have a preference or will you trust my judgement?”
Wow. This guy’s got class. A Progressive would let the Omega buy their own drinks to ‘empower’ the Omega. (Yeah, right.) A Conservative would just order, since the Omegas are supposedly too feeble minded to make their own decisions.
The guy is giving somewhat mixed signals. The respect indicates he might be a Primal, but he hasn’t sniffed the air once to scent Dean. It’s a bit confusing. “As long as it contains alcohol I’ll be a happy camper,” Dean tells him.
The Alpha hums, pleased, and calls the bartender’s attention. He orders the same cognac he’s drinking which proves that he’s both wealthy and generous because that’s some fine shit. He gives the drink to Dean and Dean thanks him. “So, Omega, you got a name?”
“Hi, Dean. Nice to meet you. I’m Raphael.” Raphael offers his hand to shake, another mixed signal since hooking up is the endgame. The standard thing to do would be to scent each other. Dean shakes his hand, politely keeping his distance even if he wants to rub his nose against Raphael’s scent glands behind the ears or even at the base of his neck. He refrains. The guy must have a reason to keep distance. Hey, maybe the guy’s a Progressive after all? Could be. Maybe he’s just not super strict about it.
“Nice to meet you. You new in town or just passing through?” Dean asks and sips the expensive drink.
“Business trip. What do you work with?”
Dean can’t help but laugh. “Dude. With a nationwide unemployment rate of 50%, you expect someone my age in a little shit town like this to have a job? I wish. I’m a trained mechanic, and do odd jobs if I’m lucky enough to get one. But, yeah, no.”
Raphael shrugs a shoulder conceding to the point. “What is your age?”
“19. Just moved out from home.”
“Out looking for your truemate?” Raphael asks carefully.
Dean sniggers. “Nah man. I don’t believe in truemates. I believe that’s something the Conservatives made up to keep Omegas in line. There’s no scientific proof of something like that existing. But if there were, I’m pretty sure I already found him.”
“Oh? So why are you here?”
Dean looks down at his glass and twirls it slowly, then downs it all in one go. Raphael swiftly calls the bartender’s attention for a refill. Fuck yeah. Dean likes this guy’s style. “He’s dead. His name was Castiel. I met him when I was ten and he fourteen. He moved into the abandoned house next to ours and we could smell the cancer on him at first whiff.” Dean pauses. He remembers that moment. He hadn’t presented yet and neither had Cas, but he’s never smelled anything as good in his whole life. “We knew he was dying from the start, but dad’s a good man. He let Cas move in with us and share our meager provisions. He, uh…” Dean looks up to find Raphael watching him with interest. “You sure you wanna hear this? I mean, if things go well I’m gonna be hanging off your knot tonight,” Dean states presumptuously. “A tragic backstory is sort of a downer.”
“Please, do go on. I’m very interested to hear what you’ve got to say,” Raphael encourages.
“Alright. Dad took him in and I was crazy about him. We were crazy about each other, almost obsessively scent marking each other. He was sick, and tired easily, but hung in there. He presented at 16. I presented a year after.”
Raphael lets out an impressed whistle. “You presented at 13 already? And your dad let you move out with a dying Alpha?”
“Nu-uh, he didn’t. Look, my dad’s a great guy, okay? And perceptive. When he sensed my hormones started changing he sat us both down to talk to us. Fuck, that was hard. ‘Dean, you’re going to present as an Omega within a couple of months. It’s far too early and I’m sad to tell you it’s because of how strongly you’ve bonded to Cas. Cas is dying. He ain’t got long left. Your body is rushing things so you can mate. It’s a problem, but I have a proposition.’” Dean pauses to drink again. “What dad did probably saved my ass, or I woulda died of grief when Cas died.”
Raphael narrows his eyes in thought, then, “He pack-bonded with Castiel?” he hedges carefully.
“Uh-huh. You gonna have a problem with that?”
Raphael’s lips curve upward in a corner. “Not in the slightest. You kept living under his roof?” Dean nods carefully. “So to make that work he must have left the Patriarchal role to Castiel?” Dean nods again. ”So when Cas died you were the pack’s main Omega?” Raphael stresses the word pack rather than family.
“Not only that, I was the only one. Mom died giving birth to my little brother. Look, both mom and dad came from long lines of Packrunners. Both our families were decimated in the war but they were raised in packs or dad wouldn’t have known how to solve it. I don’t care what they say about Packrunning. It’s not outdated, it’s the natural way.”
“Yes, but you staying under your father’s roof isn’t. Castiel died recently?”
Dean shakes his head. “No. Cas hung on longer than was expected. He died when I was 15. I lost my heats and my spirit after that. My body was in mourning for almost three years before I started getting my heats again. Dad would go away during my heats, but it’s been a year since they returned and my resistance was getting low. I was nearing the point where I wanted to beg dad to fuck me, so yeah. Time to move out.”
“Indeed. I must say, I admire your father's perseverance and generosity. Most would have told you to move out the moment your heats returned.”
This is where both the Progressives and the Conservatives were wrong. They claimed the primal biology made it so people ‘couldn't help themselves’, but that's bullshit. You were fully capable of self-control even at the peak of your rut or heat. That said, Alphas perceived the scent of Omegas that raised them as faintly repulsive when they got sexually excited for any reason. The same wasn't true for Omegas. The scent repulsion only lasted six to eight months after an Omega presented. After that biology started telling the Omega that any Alpha is fair game, especially if they were closely bonded to you like part of your family or pack, and give out hormones that told the Alphas that too. Biology took care of that in two ways - giving young Omegas wanderlust, and making the scent of a newly presented Omega vastly uncomfortable to closely related Alphas during the first six months. Omegas left home during that period, leaving of their own volition or in rare cases driven away. In a pack, Alphas who were born there stayed, Omegas left. The 6 months grace period gave everyone the chance to prepare, making sure the leaving Omega would be safe. John, bringing Cas in as the Patriarch and Dean mating with Cas, turned all this on its head. Had John kept his role as the pack patriarch it wouldn’t have worked. After Cas died Dean had all but lost his scent, burdened by grief as he was. John and Sam would regularly cuddle and scent mark him, stopping him from grieving to death. It’s not unheard of in monogamous couples, but the risk of a pack member dying from grief was essentially non-existent since they were bonded to several people.
Dean stuck around after his heats returned to help care for Sammy. John kept away during his heats. But Dean knew it was time to leave when he came home one day soon after his own heat just to be struck by the scent of John’s rut. They were syncing. It was just a matter of time before Dean stopped thinking of him as ‘dad’ and instead saw him as his Alpha.
“Yeah… dad’s a good man,” Dean agrees.
“So… what are you hoping will happen tonight, Dean?” Raphael probes.
Dean snorts in amusement. His preheat hormones are coming from him in fumes and should be making it a 100% obvious. But maybe Raphael liked to get it spelled out? “Ideally?”
“Ideally,” Raphael agrees with a twinkle in his eyes.
“Well… Ideally, I’m hoping to hook up with an Alpha that will buy me a coupla drinks and chat for a bit, buy condoms cuz I don’t wanna get knocked up, and take me home or to a motel and knot me every way possible, flinging me from preheat to full heat. Then supply me with food and drink. Ideally, he’d stay with me until my heat has peaked. But I can go for just a coupla hours too.”
Raphael’s eyes flare, making Dean buzz with anticipation. It’s really an astounding colour - luminescence rose pink. “So you want to trigger your heat, huh?”
“Yeah. I’m going home to visit my little brother next week so it’d be great if my heat is all done with by Thursday or I’ll have to cancel.”
Raphael looks downright hungry now and he still hasn’t made a move to scent Dean. “In that case, Dean, you’ve found your ideal, and I’ll be spending the next couple of days proving it to you.” He holds up a finger, gesturing for Dean to wait, then digs up his cell phone. Just the fact that he can afford one marks him as loaded. He calls someone and Dean sips his drink, listening in when someone answers. “Hi, Gabe. Could you do me a favour and cancel all my meetings this week. I’ll be back by Thursday at the latest… No.” Raphael looks at Dean while he talks. “....I’m sitting here with a gorgeous Primal Omega who wants me to care for him during his heat, and I intend to do just that.” He lifts an eyebrow asking for confirmation when he says ‘primal’ and Dean flares his eyes in response. Raphael lowers his eyelids in satisfaction. He laughs at something the Gabe person says. “I’m afraid not. I’m in Kansas. It’s a shame really. This one might actually have been up for it. See you next week. Say hello to Luci and Mike from me. Bye.” Gabe’s whiny rumble is loud enough for Dean to hear before the line cuts.
Dean sniggers. “Gabe’s jealous, huh?”
“Indeed. Say, Dean. How long do you want to remain here? Would you consider leaving after this drink and I’ll make sure you get all the drinks and food you might want once we’re in private?”
Dean down his drink in one go. “I’m down with that.”
Raphael’s predatory smirk shows his canines have gone sharp and pointed even if he hasn’t dropped fangs. Yep. Dean’s sooo down with this.
Dean might have questioned the limo waiting outside. But when Raphael led him towards the exit with a hand in the small of his back, he’d reached up with his other hand and pinched Dean’s scent glands just at the base of his neck, milking them, and Dean’s brain had short-circuited. Partly because it felt insanely good. Partly because nobody ever used their hands for that. That’s something an Alpha does when he’s draped over you, knotted. He’ll lick those glands and milk them with his teeth, suckle them. By the time they got into the limo Dean was already getting slick, rumbling his willingness deep in his chest. The strangeness didn’t stop there.
Dean’s not in a position to complain or question right now. He’s lying with his belly over Raphael’s lap, pants pulled down to his knees. Raphael is slowly opening him up with one hand, slick leaking all over the seat below. With his other hand he’s rubbing the glands behind Dean’s ears, just where Dean has wanted to rub his own nose on Raphael since they shook hands. It’s beyond strange. Dean might not have been with an abundance of Alphas yet, but he’s watched a lot of porn and he’s never come across anything like this. It’s gotta be a kink thing, right? It’s gotta. To think you could achieve this with only hands! Dean’s fucking ecstatic. He keens continuously and ruts against the seat. He’s getting closer to his first orgasm from this alone. The scent of their combined arousal fills the car, more intoxicating than the cognac they had before. Dean turns his head to look up at Raphael. The Alpha is looking down at him with intense focus, both their eyes glowing steadily in their secondary colour. The glands behind his ears are leaking so steadily it’s run down his throat and if Dean doesn’t get that rubbed all over him at some point tonight he’s going to fucking die from frustration.
“We’re nearly there. You want me to carry you, or do you wish to walk?” Raphael asks.
Dean let’s out a strangled laughter. “I can walk. But thanks for offering.” Yeah, this guy sure has class. They’ve been riding for almost 40 minutes. Dean had expected to be taken to the town's only motel, not to leave town and go to fucking Hilton in the nearest big city. But that’s what they’ve done.
It’s with great reluctance Dean crawls to sit up and pull his pants up. He wishes he could afford Heat-pants with easy access and quick closing, but as it is he’s barely keeping himself fed.
Making their way through the lobby several people flare or lick their lips submissively in reaction to their scents. Raphael doesn’t even say anything to the receptionist who picks out his room key the moment she sees them enter. He barely slows down when he passes, plucking the key from her hand and guiding Dean with a neck-pinch over his glands. “Send up an assortment of food and drink. My Omega is about to go into heat and I want him well cared for,” he commands as he passes. ‘My Omega’. Dean sure likes the idea.
In the elevator, another suited Alpha’s eyes flare brilliant yellow at Dean’s state of arousal. He even goes as far as deep-purring, trying to entice Dean to switch partner. (Good luck with that, pal.) Raphael snaps a short roar and shows his teeth at the competitor who instantly presses himself against the wall, averts his gaze and licks his lips placatingly.
Dean can’t stop purring the rest of the way to the room. He might be a bit infatuated.
Just like Dean had hoped, his heat is rushed by being knotted. He’s on all fours with Raphael knotted inside of him when the heat hits a couple of hours later. There’s a rush of warmth in his body, making him lax, dulling out pain and increasing his slick production. He can also smell himself, his scent getting ten times stronger.
It takes a few seconds then suddenly Raphael inhales deeply. “Fuck!” He grips Dean tighter around the belly and presses his chest against Dean’s back to nose him behind the ear. “By God, you smell good!” He rubs his own scent glands against Dean, rumbling deep in his chest, then bites at Dean’s neck and shoulder, licks and suckles at the glands. He keeps taking deep breaths through his nose.
Now that’s behaviour Dean’s familiar with and it might rule out his kink theory. Or maybe not. To be honest, Dean’s not all that concerned. He’s caught up in the glow, busy keening out a low purr of approval.
A bellhop enters with a trolley filled with food and drink, their second serving for tonight. Raphael hugs Dean closer and growls threateningly, ferally, at the bellhop. Dean turns his head so he can see Raphael’s face. He’s shocked to see that not only has he dropped his fangs halfway (Which is fucking painful, okay?) but his pupils have drawn into an oval line like on a cat, another thing Dean’s never seen. It’s fucking hot.
Dean comes all over again.
It’s Tuesday. Dean’s heat is over. They’re fully clothed for the first time since Friday and Dean’s straddling Raphael’s lap while Raphael rubs his ear glands back and forth over both sides of Dean’s neck, scent marking him. “Say, Dean, have you ever thought about moving to New York?” he asks without opening his eyes or stop marking Dean. “You can come with me,” he suggests.
Yeah. That’s a really tempting offer. The whole Omega Wanderlust has definitely bitten Dean since he left home. “I can’t. Sammy’s still unpresented and uncle Bobby needs a lot of help since he ended up in a wheelchair. Dad hasn’t found a new Omega yet…”
Raphael leans back a bit to look at him with a lazily amused expression. “Still running alongside your old pack, huh?”
Dean snorts. “Yeah, I guess.”
“A shame. I would have liked to introduce you to my family. I’ll tell you what. If you ever come to New York, you come find me.”
“Dude, you haven’t even told me your full name.”
“If it’s meant to be, you’ll find me.”
“Yeah, right. Because there’s only one Raphael in all of New York City.”
Raphael chuckles and his eyes flash pink for a brief moment. He leans in and purrs in Dean’s ear. “Exactly,” he purrs, like it’s a grand joke and a challenge all in one.