Requests and Challenges - An Omega and a Gentleman: Part One
Master Post // Writing Schedule // Announcements
Title: An Omega and a Gentleman
Author: girlgotagun
Pairing: Jared/Jensen - J2
Prompter: sanshal
Community: None
Prompt: LINK
Rating: NC-17
Kinks: a/b/o, excessive self-lubrication, masturbation, claiming/biting, knotting, sexual tension, humiliation, hurt/comfort, praise, fondling/groping, schmoop, first time, virginity, heat/rut cycles, gentleman!Jensen, awkward!Jared
Warnings: elements of non-con in regards to some non-pairing interactions (groping only; no rape)
Summary: Once an omega is mated, what they wear is at the discretion of their Alpha. Until then, however, all presented omegas must wear clothing that allows…easy access for Alphas. Though public claiming-particularly forced-is largely a thing of the past and frowned upon, that doesn’t stop a lot of Alphas from enjoying a grope or fondle…whether the omega wants it or not. Jared, an omega, just landed a role as Sam on a show called Supernatural. He expects his co-star Jensen to be like most Alphas, but to his surprise-and delight-Jensen doesn’t seem to have any interest in touching him inappropriately. His relief is short-lived, though, as he-and his traitor body-realizes that he’s developing feelings for the Alpha. It figures that the one Alpha who won’t try anything is the only one he wants.
Part One
AN: “Why are they in New York?” - To head off this question, I'm gonna ask you to handwave this inaccuracy. I know nothing about LA, Hollywood, Dallas, or Canada, which would all make more sense. I'm am east coast girl, forgive me. Please just suspend disbelief on that point. I appreciate it.
~~~
Jared Padalecki’s day was shaping up to be the worst one of his young life. And that was saying something, because in twenty-two years-eight thousand and thirty-five days, including leap years-a lot of his days had been pretty bad.
The previous title-holder for “Worst Day Ever” had been when he was sixteen and had first presented as an omega. Actually, that day was sort of hard to beat, since it had directly caused most of the other really bad days on the list. It wasn’t that being an omega was inherently bad, or even that Jared was unhappy with or ashamed of his status. It was just a part of who he was. No, the problem-the thorn in his side and the catalyst for all the other annoying and sometimes downright horrifying and humiliating shit that had followed-was his pants.
The goddamned omega butt-flap.
It had a real name. Of course it did. Because everything in pack had a story, a history, and a goddamned name to call it by as though it were something wondrous, worthy of reverence. So the goddamned omega butt-flap was properly titled the omega hygiene panel. The name made Jared scoff when he first heard it. Sure, because it was so difficult for an omega to just go to the bathroom and undo their pants to clean up some excess slick or to change out their heat liners. He privately thought that the Alphas who had likely come up with the idea were just trying to pretend that it wouldn’t have been more properly named the Alpha easy-access panel.
Because really, no omega was just opening the stupid flap in the seat of their pants and dealing with hygiene issues in public. Of course not. They were all going to the bathroom or their private rooms to take care of it. The only use the stupid flap ever saw was when an Alpha wanted to slide their hands in, grab a handful of an omega’s ass, squeeze and knead it. A few daring ones would even slide a finger or two into the cleft, feel the slick gathering around the rim. The really ballsy-and by that, Jared meant rude-ones would pop the snaps that held the flap in place and enjoy the sight of the flesh under their hands, the embarrassing shiny rush of slick as the omega’s body responded-willfully or not-to the Alpha’s scent and touch.
It made Jared sick. But it was pack tradition. Omegas would wear the stupid pants with the omega hygiene panel until they were mated, at which point their Alpha dictated what they would wear. The thinking there was that an Alpha could ensure that an omega was taken care of…hygienically. Jared privately thought that it was because Alphas simply didn’t like others touching their stuff.
He was probably right.
Regardless, at sixteen he had watched as his parents cleared out his closet and replaced all of his pants and shorts with the new regulation version, complete with the panel. He had never felt more uncomfortable in his own skin. From that day on, his body was up for grabs-literally-to any Alpha who felt like touching him. The only saving grace was that public claiming, especially forced, was now widely frowned upon, and Jared hadn't yet come across an Alpha who was willing to test the community’s willingness to let such a thing transpire.
So yeah, that day had easily topped the list.
It seemed like now he was in the middle of a day that was determined to contend with it, though.
It had started when he ran out of the house, late to meet with his agent, only to discover that his car wouldn't start. Full tank of gas, recent oil change, no obvious signs of a leak; everything he knew of checked out, and yet the stupid engine wouldn't turn over, emitting a low whining growl as he furiously turned the key. And that was annoying, but he would deal with it. The car itself wasn't the cause of his ire, no-it was what it meant for him to be without one.
Public transportation.
Most omegas-Jared included-avoided the underground. Too small, too tight of a space, too inescapable once they were on the train itself; the little electric capsule hurtling through twisting and turning tunnels, surrounded by darkness, pack crammed together on all sides.
He had a rail pass tucked in his wallet. He had only used it once in the last year, when his car had been in for an oil change and he had gotten a last-minute callback for a part. That had been another bad day on the list. Especially since the show he had been auditioning for-a new television series about two brothers who hunted monsters-had never called back. Of course, they probably wanted at least a beta, if not an Alpha for the role. Omega actors were generally considered too small and vulnerable for more physically-demanding roles. Jared had thought that the fact that he was six-foot-four could potentially balance his status out. Maybe if he had been mated, if it weren't so ridiculously obvious from his clothing that he was an omega…
He had really wanted that part. He'd though it might've been his big break, finally.
The goddamned butt-flap strikes again.
Jared took out his phone, eyeing the time as he hurried along the two blocks to the nearest subway entrance. He would have to change trains twice from there to make it all the way across the city to his agent’s office, and his appointment was in fifteen minutes. If he'd thought he was running late before, it was nothing compared to now.
He nearly ran down the escalator, muttering a hurried apology to a beta as he nearly knocked her over, and skidded onto the train just as the doors began to slide shut.
“Please stand clear of doors.” The cheerful automated announcement had caught him. He flinched, uncomfortable with drawing any extra attention to himself in this situation. “Doors closing. Next stop: Woodside.”
Well, at least he had gotten on the right train. On his way to the callback, he had gotten on the east-bound train in his hurry, horror washing over him as the voice cheerfully announced that the next stop was 74th-taking him deeper into Queens.
His relief was short-lived as he caught a whiff of the person next to him, pressed up against him by the sheer size of the crowd. Alpha. And if Jared could smell him, distinct in the sea of pack, then it was only a matter of time before-
The Alpha’s nostrils flared and Jared felt like his stomach had dropped to his feet before the man’s scent thickened, overtaking his hindbrain. That was what truly sucked about being pack-the human/animal duality of the mind. Because that meant that, rather than the escape of being ruled entirely by basic instinct and enjoying the attentions of an Alpha, Jared was able to simultaneously feel disgusted and threatened, even as his body began to respond to the Alpha’s proximity.
It was a humiliating combination, and if Jared had thought, when he was younger, that it would get easier with time, then his teenage self had been a fucking moron.
The Alpha shifted, turning to press his chest against Jared’s back, and the omega felt a rough, heavy hand move up over his ass, fingers seeking out the edge of the panel. He swallowed hard, tried not to whimper in disgust or need as those fingers disappeared through the space between snaps. Hot and sweaty skin grazed along his bottom, moving lower, and then his ass was being groped and squeezed, his instincts screaming at him to press back into the touch or to drop and present, his civilized mind screaming for him to deck the bastard.
But all he could do was stand there and take it as the Alpha fondled him, fingers running a few times through the cleft of his ass and swiping over his rim, collecting the slick that was spilling out and threatening to press into him.
“Woodside.” The automated voice broke into his thoughts and he considered bolting as the doors opened, but if he did there was no way he'd even make it to his agent’s office before it closed for the day. “Doors closing.”
He would switch to the yellow line at Queensborough Plaza, and then to the red line at Times Square until he hit 72nd Street.
One stop down, fourteen to go.
The Alpha’s hand gave a particularly enthusiastic squeeze as the doors shut. Jared wanted to vomit. His hindbrain hummed in pleasure.
He finally darted off of the train and away from the Alpha at Queensborough Plaza, his hand sweeping behind him in what he hoped was a casual manner as he checked to make sure that all of the snaps were still intact. They weren't. Figured. He hurriedly snapped them back, letting the embarrassment wash over him tamp down the slight arousal ignited by the Alpha. He hated the way the public gropings made him feel, but over the years he had learned to use that in his favor to leash his baser mind.
Hard to feel aroused when you wanted to die.
The yellow line was a pretty uneventful ride, but when he got off at Times Square he realized it was about to get a hell of a lot worse.
A few years prior, an extremist group of pack had risen to notoriety when they had brutally publicly claimed seven newly-presented omegas. Their argument, when hauled in front of the pack council, had been that it was the natural order, and that there were no existing laws in place to stop them for that very reason. Jared’s heart had broken for the young omegas-only three years younger than him at the time-but he had hoped that the sensational case would set a precedent and force through legislation to once and for all stop forced claiming.
So far, though, it hadn’t. Attention turned instead to the omega who died in the process. He had been ripped open by the Alpha’s knot as he struggled to get away, the knot just deep enough in him to tie, and the time that emergency responders were forced to wait for them to become untied had allowed the omega to bleed out. It had resulted in mandated sexual education throughout every borough. For omegas. To ensure that they understood knotting and how to best preserve their safety.
It was ridiculous. And disturbing.
It also explained why Jared’s fear ratcheted up to previously unknown levels when, there in the middle of Times Square station, was a collection of Alphas wearing the tell-tale red-and-black band around their upper arms. True, the group had made no further “public statements” in the years following the original incident, but they were well-known for threatening and intimidating omegas, reminding them that there would be no one who could speak for them or actually do anything if they were to decide to claim them-even if they died in the process. And though Jared knew that it was mostly fear-mongering, he had never been able to erase the image of the dying omega from his mind, had never been able to get the agonized screams to do less than distantly echo in his skull whenever he thought about it.
He saw the one nearest him scent the air, a slow grin spreading over his face, and before Jared really knew what was happening, he was running, tripping over his own feet for a moment before he found traction to hurtle towards the red line on the other side of the platform.
The door slid shut right in front of him. He let out a terrified shout, banging on the door, hoping to trip the sensor that would make it open again, make it think that something was stuck between the panels. He could feel the Alpha getting closer, purposefully-potent lust and aggression pouring off of the stranger. The train started to move and he let out a frustrated snarl as he stepped back before whipping his head around, trying to decide on an alternate escape route.
A hand grasped his arm, pulling him against a solid body, and he tried to fight, flailing and lurching against the Alpha’s strength. Ahead of him, he could see the Alpha who had first scented him drawing nearer, the smell of aggression increasing with each step.
Oh God, there were two of them. Jared had thought at first that the Alpha he had been running from had caught him, but no. There were two. He was suddenly absolutely aware that he was not likely to make it out of this situation intact, and he wanted to scream for help which he knew would, ultimately, fail.
So yeah, this was probably going to top the list of Worst Day Ever.
“Be still.” A deep voice said in his ear, and Jared felt his hindbrain scrambling to comply as his limbs became heavy and an invisible sort of pressure began at the nape of his neck.
The Alpha who had first scented him had come to a halt less than three feet away, his teeth clenched as an almost inaudible warning growl issued from his throat.
“Touch him, and I’ll make sure you regret it,” the Alpha holding him said.
It took the words a moment to connect in Jared’s mind, another for him to turn them over and make sense of them. The Alpha pressed against him wasn’t one of them. Wasn’t trying to hurt him. Was trying to save him?
There was a tense moment in which the Alphas’ scents seemed to battle to overwhelm each other, and then the one with the armband took a slow, grudging step back.
He made a tutting noise. “Plenty of bitches just waiting to be claimed. Why would I want yours?”
If Jared hadn’t been so terrified, he would have laughed at the obvious attempt to save face as the Alpha turned and stalked back to his group. As it was, he was about to hyperventilate, his movement arrested by the command of the Alpha.
“You alright, Jared?” The Alpha asked, his grip loosening as he took a step away.
Jared’s eyes snapped up to look at the man for the first time since he had grabbed him. He had short, wavy dark hair and a full beard and mustache, gray beginning to creep into the hair around his gently-smiling mouth. He looked to be nearly twice Jared’s age.
Jared exhaled hard, trying to regain control of his racing mind. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”
The man chuckled. “Not how I pictured meeting you, I’ll say that.”
Jared furrowed his brow as he tried to riddle out the statement. It hit him then that the man had called him by name. “What? How do you know who I am?”
The man looked surprised, and then guilty. “Oh… I guess they haven’t told you, yet. Didn’t mean to ruin the surprise.” The next train in the red line pulled up and the man shrugged. “Well, I guess you’ll find out soon enough. You’d better get going. This was actually the train you wanted, right?”
Jared nodded, at a loss for words. Before he could ask anything else, though, the man was walking away. Jared ducked onto the train as the automated voice announced its arrival, not wanting to risk another minute in close proximity with the more extreme Alphas.
Still, his mind raced, running over and over through what had happened and wondering at the identity of the mystery Alpha as he pressed himself into the corner of the car, avoiding contact with the other passengers. Finally, he arrived at 72nd Street.
~~~
What had started as potentially one of the worst days of his life had ended as one of the best.
He had arrived at his agent’s office far too late-the beta was running out the door as he reached it, power suit immaculate and bitch-heels clacking harshly on the pavement as she went.
“Producer’s called, kid!” she shouted as she opened the door of her car and tossed her briefcase in, pausing only a moment to explain a little before she climbed in herself and drove away. “Congrats. You got the part on that new show, Supernatural.”
Continue to Part Two