Castiel yelled “I rebelled for this,” and Dean knew he was in trouble.
Castiel was angry, throwing Dean around and yelling and for once Dean didn’t care to fight back. He deserved the anger, the feeling of falling onto pavement, of Castiel’s fists against his face. Finally, after a particularly rough encounter with a chain link fence Dean came to his knees in front of the very pissed off angel. He looked at Castiel, saw his hands balled into fists, and knew that there was one way this would go.
“Do it!” Castiel remained frustratingly motionless. Why wasn’t he putting Dean out of his misery? “Just do it!” Castiel moved then, grabbing Dean and hurling him at another wall. Dean felt the unnerving sensation of Castiel’s teleportation before he made impact. His head hit the wall with force and he crumpled. It took him a moment for his head to clear. The first thing he saw was Castiel, crouching in front of him and staring at him with those damned too-blue eyes that were full of furious intent. The second thing he saw was that they were in a cheap motel room, the kind that had practically become his home since he started hunting.
“What the…” was all he managed to choke out before Castiel hauled him to his feet. Castiel grabbed his shirt with both fists and pushed him against the wall again, and Dean knew that he would have some spectacular bruises if he managed to live long enough to form them.
“You’re so eager to lose yourself to an angel? To let them take away everything that makes you you for their own selfish purpose? Fine, Dean. Let’s do that.” Castiel was actually growling the words out, making his normally low voice sound somehow even more threatening. Dean just stared at him, utterly lost. This was not how this was supposed to go. Then Castiel backed off, his eyes never leaving Dean’s, and stood unnaturally still.
“Take off your clothes and lie on the bed.” Dean just blinked and stared at the angel. He couldn’t be serious, could he? This had to be against someone’s rules. But as Dean looked at Castiel waiting for the punchline, he realized that he was the one that taught Cas to break the rules in the first place.
“Now, Dean.” Castiel’s voice left no room for argument, and damn if Dean didn’t feel his heart begin to race. This was wrong, he knew it was wrong, but everything was wrong right now so why not toss one more log onto the fire? So Dean slowly began to take off his clothes, the muscles and joints that had so recently been abused protesting the movement. He couldn’t look at Castiel, because it was all too weird. Besides, he could feel the angel’s gaze on him and for reasons he wasn’t ready to articulate he knew that if he look at Castiel now he’d break down screaming or crying or begging Castiel to just let him die the death he deserved. So he silently removed his clothes and laid on the bed, arms at his sides and eyes focused resolutely on the ceiling, waiting for whatever would happen next.
But there was nothing. He knew Castiel was still there, but he was still and silent, and Dean was left feeling cold and in pain. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the aches that the brawl in the alley had given him. Pain was the only thing he rightly deserved, he knew that. He was so sick of fighting. He was weak. He thought how bad being possessed by an angel would hurt and wondered how it would compare to the pain he felt in Hell. He lost himself in thoughts of pain and punishment and remembered poor Jimmy Novak describing angelic possession as being chained to a comet. He mused about how much the guy had really known about true suffering beforehand. Thinking about Jimmy made Dean suddenly and acutely aware that he was, in fact, currently being watched by the angel that Jimmy had been talking about. The feeling of confusion and, yes, fear crept back and so Dean responded to it the way he always had: glib humor.
“So, uh, Cas…is this” whatever comment he was going to make was lost as an invisible force Dean knew to be angel mojo moved his arms above his head and pinned them there. Castiel himself went from standing feet away to straddling his stomach, his hands to either side of Dean’s head and his face mere inches from his. Years of hunter training had somehow failed to prepare him for this, and all he could do was gasp and open his eyes in surprise. His vision was filled with Castiel, whose eyes were cold with the same fury that they had in alley. But there was something else their now, something both predatory and intimate, and it had the entirely unexpected effect of making Dean feel very aroused and terrified in equal measure. Castiel cocked his head in that strange way of his.
“Always deflecting fear with humor. You pretend to fight so hard for the independence you’re so willing to give up. So, Dean Winchester, are you prepared to give up now?” Dean still wasn’t entirely sure what Castiel meant. The most obvious answer seemed the least plausible, but Dean realized that he didn’t care. No matter the context, yes, Dean was ready to give up. So he closed his eyes and nodded, ever so slightly, and because he closed his eyes he missed the brief but obvious look of relief on Castiel’s face. However, in the next second it was gone, and Castiel was releasing Dean’s bonds and dragging him to a kneeling position the floor. The use of his limbs was short lived as angel mojo was used to pin his arms together behind his back. Castiel stood in front of him, and with his eyes never leaving Dean’s he started to take his own clothes off. This time, Dean couldn’t take his eyes off Castiel. The angel wasn’t trying to be sexy, but seeing him undo his tie and shrug off the ever-present trench coat was captivating. Dean had to admit to himself that Cas had chosen a very good looking vessel. He had a bit of time to wonder if that was something angels looked for in their potential vessels before Cas stood in front of him, gloriously naked. Dean looked up, eyes pointedly ignoring the obvious, and saw Cas smirk with what Dean swore was malicious glee.
“Blow me, Dean.” Dean had time to realize that Cas was A) absolutely serious, B) echoing the very words Dean had said to him earlier that day, and C) marvel at the fact Castiel was using a twisted sense of humor before a hand tangled itself in his hair and began to guide his head toward the proper place. Without giving himself time to think about it Dean opened his mouth and took Castiel in his mouth as far as he could comfortably go. Dean was a ladies man who figured he was straight, but there had been a few experimental nights when the options for women was low, the beer was cheap, and the men flirtatious, so this wasn’t his first time going down on a guy. It was the first time doing it sober, and absolutely his first time doing anything because he was being ordered to. Judging by the way his body was reacting, he liked it.
At first, Castiel gave no indication on whether Dean was doing a good job or not, which Dean decided meant he wasn’t doing well enough. Trying to remember what he’d done before and what he liked having done to him, he changed from simply moving back and forth while sucking to really trying to pleasure Castiel. He pressed his tongue against the bottom of Cas’s length and applied pressure as sucked. He drew back and swirled his tongue around the head before slowly taking it all back into his mouth, pushing the limits of what he could handle. He went slow and realized that he was enjoying himself, and before long he heard the first low moan that meant that he was doing something right. He was also very aware that he had been beaten earlier, and the act of pleasuring Cas actually hurt quite a bit. Instead of making it more difficult, Dean found that the pain was what he needed. Castiel was absolutely right, he needed to give up. He needed to hurt, and when the angel ramming his cock into Dean’s mouth, Dean enjoyed every second of it. He could taste the precum and wondered what it would be like to have a celestial being orgamsm in his mouth when suddenly Cas was gone. Dean actually whimpered.
“Bend over the bed.” Castiel’s voice was husky with desire, dangerous with dominance. Dean wasted no time in complying, and barely had time to wonder what was next when a hand smacked his ass so hard he cried out. Another hand, on the other cheek, quickly followed and Dean again cried out at the stinging pain.
“I have done everything for you.” Smack. “I gave up everything because you told me to.” Smack. “I betrayed everything, everyone, I ever knew because you said it was right.” Smack. “Only to have you” smack “betray” smack “ME.” A final, merciless hand struck Dean’s backside and he writhed in agony and pleasure. Yes, this was it. This is what he needed, what he deserved. This was the pain he sought, though the erection was a surprise. Castiel grabbed his hair and yanked his head back, leaving his back arched at an awkward angle.
“Was it worth it Dean? Knowing that you were betraying the one who rescued you from Hell?” Dean only had time to make an inarticulate cry before he was on the bed, face down, and Cas was everywhere, roughly exploring Dean’s neck and back with his mouth and hands. He forced Dean’s arms to his side and even left them there, and no angel mojo was required to keep them in place. Dean couldn’t track Castiel’s movements, he was aware only of the biting, scratching, nibbling, pinching force that was the angel. He was too rough for pure pleasure, just rough enough for pain, and Dean ground himself into the bed to try and provide some relief. One sharp slap to his ass and a growling order to stay put a stop to that, though he couldn’t stop himself from whimpering. Castiel was making his way to his lower half, and was touching, licking, abusing everywhere except for the places Dean most wanted to be touched. Castiel had yet to acknowledge that Dean’s erection existed, and teased around the entrance to Dean’s hole without ever touching it. Dean thought he might actually cry from sheer frustration when the Cas did the worse possible thing: he stopped completely.
“Cas…” he moaned, desperate for the angel to do something, anything.
“Why were you going to do it, Dean? Why were you going to become Michael’s vessel?” Dean groaned, this was not what he wanted right now. He wanted to be punished, not talk about his feelings. But Castiel’s tone left no room for silence, it was so deep and in control and Dean felt his desperate cock twitching at the sound of it.
“To save everyone, so put a stop to the…” SMACK. The hardest hit yet came down on his ass, so hard he felt it in his knees. He screamed, muffling his voice in the cheap blankets.
“Don’t lie to me Dean.” The tone was still authoritative, which Dean could handle, but there was an undertone of some other emotion. As much as he tried to avoid recognizing it he knew that Castiel actually cared about him, cared enough to want a real answer, cared enough to follow the man who was betraying him and give him one last chance at redemption. Dean could handle the pain, but not this. Apparently he was taking too long to answer, because another firm smack jolted him out of his reverie.
“Now.” Dean moaned again, and turned his head so that his voice could he heard. He squeezed his eyes shut though, knowing he couldn’t face seeing Castiel right now.
“Because I deserve the pain. I don’t deserve to be here. I make everyone’s life worse by sticking around and thought that this was the way out that might actually do some good.” He sobbed the last part, choking on the words, but felt some tension in his chest release as he finally acknowledged the true reason for his actions. There was a brief stillness and Dean was sure Cas would leave him here, fly away and never return, when with a roar the angel flipped him on his back, knelt in front him, and wrapped Dean’s legs around his waist. Without any warning or preamble he thrust a finger into Dean’s entrance, and Dean arched his back and moaned at the sudden invasion. It burned, but not as much as it should and some part of his brain wondered if Castiel could use his angel mojo to make lube. All thoughts were lost when Castiel withdrew the finger almost entirely before thrusting it back it.
“Of all the things God created, of all the miracles on the planet,” here Castiel added another finger and Dean was writhing, helplessly overwhelmed by the stimulation, “of all the perfect vistas and amazing creatures,” now the third finger was pumping into him and Dean was sure this was what going insane with pleasure actually meant, “none of them, NONE OF THEM, compare to you, Dean Winchester.” All three fingers withdrew but before Dean could even make a whimper of complaint Castiel’s member was at his entrance. Dean moved himself down at the same time Castiel grabbed his hips and thrust up and they both cried out as Castiel filled the hunter. Without pausing Castiel began to move, and it hurt but it was the most delicious pain Dean had ever experienced. Then Castiel was lifting Dean up, and without ruining their rhythm brought Dean to a sitting position, so that they were chest to chest. Castiel wrapped one arm around Dean while the other grabbed his hips so hard he thought the the fingernails might break the skin, but what was more important was that by squeezing them so close together Dean’s cock was rubbing against Castiel’s chest and Dean figured that this is what heaven must actually feel like. Castiel adjusted slightly and suddenly Dean was seeing stars. He was clinging to Castiel and screaming the angel’s name and was dimly aware of Castiel growling out his name in return when he reached his climax and came in what little space there was between them. That must have been all Castiel needed because Dean could feel the heat as Castiel came inside him, moaning Dean’s name. When they were both spent they tumbled backwards. Castiel controlled the fall so that Dean landed softly on his back, his legs still wrapped around the angel.
Dean opened his eyes, realizing that he must have closed them during orgasm, and found himself once again looking straight into Castiel’s perfect blue eyes. They still were still uncomfortably intense, but the fury and predatory look were gone completely. Now they held a softness to them, and Dean knew what he was seeing even as his mind failed to fully process it. Castiel leaned in and pressed his forehead to Dean’s, and softly stroked one hand against his cheek. Then he kissed Dean, and it was a simple, chaste kiss that was a thousand times more intimate than anything else they had just shared.
“I rebelled for this,” he whispered softly, and that was all Dean could handle before the sheer enormity of everything crashed down on him again, and he was crying, grabbing onto Castiel like he was the last solid thing in the world. And Cas simply held him. He didn’t try to murmur soothing words or stroke his hair or tell him it was going to be okay. He simply rolled to the side and wrapped his arms around Dean, and let the hunter sob into his chest. How long he cried for Dean didn’t know and didn’t care, all he knew was finally allowing himself to break down in the face of everything he’d experienced.
When at last the tears stopped coming Dean felt that he had never been so raw or exposed, but he also felt like renewed. The pain, the sex, the tears...they had pushed a reset button and he hadn’t felt this ready to face the apocalypse, well, since it began.
Eventually he realized that he was still very naked, splattered with blood and other fluids, and curled up in the arms of an angel. He looked up and saw that Castiel was watching him, and when their eyes met Cas gave him the same doe-eyed concerned look that he frequently gave Dean. For the first time, Dean really looked back and his breath caught, amazed that this celestial being thought Dean was worth even a fraction of that concern.
“So...uh, what’s next,” Dean asked, trying to sound casual. Castiel cocked his head.
“What is next, Dean?” Dean opened his mouth. Closed it. Considered things for a moment.
“Well, I guess you should probably take me back to Bobby’s.” Castiel smiled and Dean thought it was perhaps the most gorgeous thing in the history of world, and with the flutter of wings they were standing outside Bobby’s house. Dean’s injuries were healed and he was clean and dressed, as was Castiel. It was still dark out, and their only light came from a single bare porchlight. Cas turned as if to leave and Dean reached out, grabbing his arm, suddenly afraid that his arm would pass right through the angel, that Cas would be gone and he would never come back. But he was solid under Dean’s hand, and he turned back, looking at Dean with an expression that could best be described as curious hope.
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to fly off after all...that?” Dean grabbed Castiel’s arm harder, like that would manage to prevent the angel from doing anything.
“There is much work to be done, Dean. I believe that I can leave you alone now, and trust you to make the right decisions.” Dean looked slightly panicked, and Castiel reached out to touch Dean’s face, cupping his chin gently.
“I’ll come back. And I’ll always hear it when you call for me.” Dean blushed at the imagery the sentence evoked and was glad it was still dark.
“Well, good.” Castiel nodded and turned to leave again, but Dean refused to let go of his arm. It seemed to be doing it’s job of keeping Cas put.
“Hey, if...you know, if for some reason I ever feel like giving myself over to the angels again…do you suppose I could call on you to talk me out of it?” Castiel’s brow had furrowed in concern at the first part of his question, and after he was done there was a brief pause. And then he smiled again, and Dean had the first inclination that Castiel’s smile was going to be the end of him because he would give anything in the world to see that smile as frequently as possible.
“Of course. It would be my pleasure.” Then Castiel was kissing him again and Dean found himself kissing back, but just as quickly as it began the angel was gone, leaving Dean flustered and confused on Bobby’s doorstep. He looked up toward the stars, wondering what exactly had just happened, and figured the most important thing was that he had been given a second chance to fight back.
He looked at the house. They would figure this out, his makeshift family. And he would play a part of it, and if he ever faltered again there would be an angel doing whatever it took to get him back on his feet.
If he was sure of nothing else, he was sure of that.