Chapter Text
Dean Winchester has faced many things in his life.
So walking into a laser spa shouldn’t have been that big of a deal.
And yet, there he stood — in a reception room that smelled like eucalyptus and judgment — wearing a hoodie two sizes too big, clutching his intake form like it might bite him back.
“You shaved everything?” the receptionist asked cheerfully, clicking away at her keyboard.
Dean turned red. “Y-yeah. Everything. And I mean everything everything. Like, uh. Even the…” He made an unspeakable gesture near his waistband and immediately wanted to fling himself out the window.
“Great,” she said, utterly unbothered. “He’ll be with you in a moment.”
Dean was already planning his escape when the door to the treatment suite opened.
And then he walked in.
Dean’s knees nearly gave out on the spot.
Tall. Broad. Dressed in fitted black scrubs that showed off muscle and authority in equal measure. Dark tousled hair. A face like it had been sculpted by someone horny and vindictive. Scent like spice, smoke, and dominant alpha.
“I’m Castiel,” he said, voice low and rough and flirty without even trying. “You must be Dean.”
Dean’s mouth opened and absolutely no words came out.
Cas’ mouth curved, just a little. He knew. “Follow me,” he said. “Let’s get you nice and smooth.”
Dean had never hated a sheet so much in his life.
He was lying on the table now — completely bare under the soft white linen, skin burning with embarrassment, every nerve on fire because he could already smell the alpha’s scent curling through the room like smoke.
Cas came back in, gloves snapping on, gaze hungry.
Dean swore he saw the man’s pupils dilate when he got close.
“You nervous, sweetheart?” Cas asked, voice way too gentle for a man holding a laser wand.
Dean peeked out from under the sheet. “Little bit. I, uh. I’ve never done this before.”
Cas hummed, moving to his side. “First time can be a lot. But I’ll take care of you.”
He reached for Dean’s ankle and pressed his palm flat against the back of Dean’s calf.
Dean gasped — the contact electric, possessive, grounding.
“You're trembling,” Cas murmured.
“I’m fine,” Dean said, voice several octaves too high.
Cas looked at him for a long second, like he could see right through him. “You're not,” he said. “You’re nervous. You’re overwhelmed. And your scent’s so sweet I’m having trouble remembering this is a professional environment.”
Dean’s heart stopped. “Oh my God.”
“You’re okay,” Cas said softly. “Do you want a little help relaxing?”
Dean blinked up at him, helpless and pink. “Help how?”
Cas leaned down, breath warm against Dean’s ear. “Alpha pheromones.”
Dean whimpered.
“You just have to say yes.”
“…Yes,” Dean whispered.
Cas exhaled, slow and controlled, and the whole air around them changed — alpha scent pouring over Dean like a tide, dominant and calm and soothing. It made Dean melt into the table instantly.
“There you go,” Cas murmured. “Good boy.”
Dean flushed scarlet. “That’s not fair,” he mumbled.
“What’s not fair?” Cas asked, hands moving to Dean’s thigh with careful, firm pressure.
Dean shivered. “You saying stuff like that.”
Cas chuckled — dark and pleased. “You like being called my good boy?”
Dean didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The way his body trembled under Cas’ hand said everything.
Cas took his time. He zapped. He soothed. He touched, lingered, praised.
“Doing so well for me,” he murmured at one point, fingers brushing the inside of Dean’s thigh. “So soft. So obedient. You were made to be taken care of.”
Dean’s hands fisted the sheet like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart.
He didn’t know if he was aroused or crying or both.
By the time Cas finished, Dean was pink all over, dazed, loose-limbed and blinking like he’d been gently put through a washing machine.
Cas handed him a warm towel and the tiniest little aftercare kit Dean had ever seen — like a consolation prize for surviving a spiritual awakening.
“All done,” Cas said, voice husky and amused. “Unless you’re interested in a follow-up.”
Dean stared at him. “You’re seriously flirting with me after lasering my—my—”
Cas stepped in close. Close enough to crowd Dean’s space, his voice dipping into pure alpha velvet. “Dean. You came into my hands soft, shaking, and begging for me to calm you down with pheromones. I’m not flirting.”
Dean swallowed.
“I’m claiming.”
Dean nearly fell off the table.
Cas caught him.
Naturally.