A/N: Dean is the main attraction in Crowley's gentleman's club.
DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction using characters from the Supernatural universe. I do not claim any ownership. This work is solely for entertainment purposes and is not considered film or tv canon (not by a long shot).
He struggles even though he knows it is pointless. He strains against the binders that hold him to the bed – the infernally soft and welcoming bed. Four hand carved posts stand at each corner of the bed frame, each depicting bodies wrapped around and inside one another. He's been in a couple of those positions recently. He shoves the memory to the back of his mind quickly.
He fights more intently when he hears a door open. He can see the man who's entered the room. The man who keeps him here, strapped to this bed. He sees the needle and he can't help himself – he begins to shake his head in refusal. He can't talk with the leather gag on him.
The fight won't do any good. The man that sits calmly by his side on the bed knows this too. The man smiles down at him and gently cards long fingers through his hair.
"Dean, Dean, Dean ... sweetheart ... you know it isn't good for your heart for you to be so stressed," The man croons softly. His accented voice is nails on a chalkboard – Dean hates it. He hates everything about this man.
The man knows this and it amuses him because he is well-aware that after he injects the contents of the syringe, Dean won't care anymore. His resistance is pointless because he will do what he is told to do regardless of how much he fights it. It's that submission that makes him a valuable commodity. It's the struggle to win a losing battle that clients want to see. Dean never fails to give a good show.
The door opens again and another man walks in - he's wearing only a long robe. The man with the syringe smiles at the client.
"Alastair, this is Dean."
The man looks Dean over appraisingly. Dean snarls and jerks at the binders again. The man's eyes widen and darken with lust. "Oh, Crowley...he's beautiful."
"Indeed. Well, other clients to satisfy ... let me just get you two started." Crowley says. He grabs Dean's arm and holds it in a vice-like grip. Dean's muffled screams bring only another smile to Crowley's face. He eases the needle in with a practiced movement and injects the liquid.
Dean's body arches off the bed as the drug cocktail hits his system. The adrenaline dosage is low because Dean's body is already producing plenty due to his fear. It's just enough to force his circulatory system to send the key drug racing through his body.
Crowley nods in satisfaction and leaves the room. Alastair drops his robe and slides onto the bed beside Dean. Dean is still fighting even though the drugs are beginning to make his thoughts hazy and confusing. He can suddenly smell himself and he whimpers, knowing it's about to start.
Alastair smiles knowingly as Dean's eyes begin to dilate. He inhales deeply and is thrilled beyond measure to scent Omega pheromones. He strokes his hand down Dean's body and feels his breath catch in his chest when the young man jerks away but then shudders.
Dean's thoughts are beginning to slip sideways. He pulls away from the loathesome touch of this stranger but then feels an ember beginning to grow inside him. The hand that's stroking him suddenly isn't touching enough of him. Dean fights that thought and pulls weakly against the bonds but it's getting harder and harder to concentrate on anything but the man's touch drifting down his side - agonizingly slow. Dean presses himself toward the hand, hoping to encourage more touching.
Nonono ...I don't want this ... don't want it ... gotta fight... Dean's thoughts start spinning as he tries to hold on to his defiance. He smells so good ... alpha...take me ... gotta have him ... nononono don't want him don't touch me ... so good ... getting hard ... want it want it alpha ...
Alastair watches the battle, his cock long since rock hard. He continues to gently stroke along Dean's side, knowing the Omega is beginning to crave the touch and is longing for more. His own Alpha nature is struggling to stay in control but he breathes through his mouth to counteract the effect of Dean's heat. It won't work for long, but Alastair wants to watch Dean come apart for him.
"Ah ... sweet, sweet Dean ... you want this so much, don't you?"
Dean shakes his head but a low moan escapes the gag.
"Pretty Omega ... pretty pretty boy ... you want me to knot you, don't you?"
Another shake, but not as emphatic. Dean's nostrils flare and his breathing quickens even more. Alastair watches as Dean's body begins to lubricate in anticipation of an Alpha possession. He reaches his hand between Dean's legs and smiles at the sudden effort the young man makes to turn his hips away.
"Now now ... that's not very nice ... you know you want me to touch you ... to stroke you ... like this ..."
Dean's moan this time is full of arousal as Alastair wraps his hand around Dean's cock. He casually dips his hand into the slick and slides his fingers up and down – light with no pressure, no real friction.
Please nononono don't ... please don't touch me ... please not again ... can't ... alpha please ... Dean is grasping at the tendrils of his last coherent thoughts in a desperate attempt to stay in control, to stay himself. He thinks maybe this time he'll make it. That is, until Alastair takes the hand wet with Dean's slick and glides a finger just under Dean's nose. The scent of his own body coupled with the Alpha's strong pheromones drives whatever control Dean had completely from his brain. A new mantra settles in his mind.
Alpha alpha alpha alpha alpha ...
From his office, Crowely smirks when he sees Dean finally lose control. He adjusts the volume so he can hear the guttural moans that begin to emerge from Dean's throat. Alastair releases each of the bonds and removes the gag and watches as Dean immediately moves to all fours, presenting himself for the Alpha. Crowley smiles as he hears Dean begging to be knotted.
The drug will keep Dean in full heat for nearly a day. He will service at least two more alphas after Alastair – the drive won't be as strong for Dean by then, but he'll still gladly submit to an Alpha. By the end of the twenty-four hours, Dean will be exhausted and too weak to put up any sort of fight. He'll be cleaned and checked, fed and watered and, as Crowley has seen, he'll take it all meekly because his Omega brain will still be feeding his body the chemicals to keep him docile and obedient. Dean will willingly climb back onto the bed and allow himself to be gagged and restrained for the next client session. He'll sleep for a while and when he wakes up, Crowley will hear the room echo with sobs. Dean will sob and beg whatever deity will listen to rescue him. And then Dean will start to struggle again even though he knows it's pointless.