Castiel’s chest ached as he forced himself to speak calmly, keeping his responses just the right side of dangerous, reminding himself of the flirtatious lilt he had used in all of their previous conversations. He was a deceptively good actor, could probably have pursued a career on stage if he hadn’t had such a strong urge to kill. Besides, it was family, and loyalty to family always had to come first. That was why he would kill this man if he had to. The call had come far too soon, he’d been hoping to put this off at least a few more days, but it had only been a matter of hours. Dean was eager.
He agreed to meet at the motel, it was enemy ground, but he knew the layout, and he didn’t want to divulge his own address, not if Dean was who he thought he was. Oh how he hoped he was wrong.
He showed up to the meeting in his usual attire; trench coat, suit, long silver blade hidden up a sleeve, garrote embedded in the silk of his tie, poison in his inner pocket. He saw no need for guns, not when he knew full well he could easily kill a man with his bare hands.
He shot Dean a devastatingly wicked smile, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, licking his lips in that infuriatingly sexy way he had a tendency to do. Cas attempted to one up him, knowing this was a battle he had to win. He couldn’t let lust dampen his senses, couldn’t let the yearning he felt every time Dean looked at him take control.
“Do you know why you are to be punished?”
Dean nodded, avoiding his gaze, posture gloriously submissive.
“Use your words Dean,” he said sternly.
“I-” Dean stuttered. “I got drunk again. I knew you were coming over and I got drunk.”
“Yes, you did.”
Cas shoved him against the wall, not sparing a thought for his welfare as he collided with the hard plaster. Dean moaned, cock hardening at the rough treatment. Cas’ mouth was on his before he even realised he had moved. Teeth and tongues tangling. It was rough to say the least, hot and heavy and so so wrong.
“Are you-“ Dean broke off as he gasped for breath, Cas biting down hard on his collar bone, “are you going to punish me then?”
Cas looked up from his work, then grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked back hard.
“I said I would, did I not? Are you doubting my word? Boy.”
The moan that this sentence wrung from Dean was quite possibly the sexiest thing Cas had ever heard.
“N- no,” Cas pulled harder on the hair, stopping just shy of yanking it from its roots, “sir.” Cas smiled darkly and relaxed his hold.
“I was going to give you a choice of punishment, but since you decided to question me,” Dean opened his mouth, presumably to refute the charges being levelled at him, but Cas silenced him with a look, “and don’t think for a second I didn’t hear the sass in your tone,” Dean was panting slightly, arousal glazing his eyes, “I don’t think you deserve that accommodation.”
“Please what Dean? You shall have to be more specific if you wish to receive what you want.”
He smirked at the frustration that Dean was so clearly feeling.
“Please, punish me.”
“Now that is something I am happy to deliver. What is your safe word?”
Dean quickly shook his head.
“No, I don’t need one, just- just do it,” Cas raised a single eyebrow. “Sir, just do it Sir.”
Cas had known what the answer would be, but he still wondered at the self loathing, ah well, he was here to oblige. There was every chance of it being a last wish after all, whether Dean knew it or not.
“Very well. Take off your clothes.” Cas growled the command in his ear, intentionally deepening his voice, well aware of the effect that had. It worked, as always.
Dean rushed to obey. Cas felt himself getting hard against his will at the pure subservience that Dean seemed so eager to give in to. It seemed like an eternity before Dean finally got the last shirt off (why he insisted on covering that body with such an unnecessarily large amount of clothing Cas would never know) all though in reality it had to have been under a minute, a minute of terrified suspense, Cas’ heart hammering painfully, the adrenaline feeling similar to the moments before an anticipated drop from a great height. Then his stomach plummeted as all of his fears were realised. The tattoo was dark and real and all too absolute. He was a hunter.
He practically fell against Dean, hiding his face in the crook of his neck as he shoved him back against the wall, not able to bear looking at that cursed tattoo one moment more, and hoping that Dean's arousal would stop him questioning the desperation he'd surely seen in Cas' eyes. He bit down on Dean's shoulder for good measure, knowing the way pain seemed to bring his mind to a standstill.
Cas gave out a little cry as he realised with terrible frustration that he simply could not kill him, not yet. One more time, just one more time. He would cure himself of his fascination with this beautiful, deadly, creature before him and then he would put an end to it, for good.
Dean pushed his hips back, grinding his ass against Cas' erection, which thankfully hadn't flagged enough to give him away.
"No," Cas snapped, then practically threw him onto the bed.
Dean looked up at him, so open, so trusting. Cas flipped him onto his front to hide the expression, pulling off his tie and binding him to the bed. For a killer he was horribly easy to restrain. Cas’ heart sank even as he tied the length of silk around his wrists. He wondered if Dean could feel the wire that rested within, he doubted he could, but this knot certainly wouldn’t break, no matter how hard Dean struggled.
He ghosted a hand down Dean's back, as if a few soft touches could make up for all the pain that was to follow. The muscles tensed beneath him, in anticipation of the punishment that had been promised. Cas ran his fingers through Dean's hair, closing his eyes and willing himself to tighten his grip and pull. His fingers slipped away.
Dean whined, breathlessly following it up with; "stop teasing me man."
Cas shook his head.
"You like pain too much, I am not going to give it to you," not yet at least. "I think, instead, you need to learn some patience," yes, that was a good excuse for his reticence. That way he could put off hurting Dean a little longer.
"I don't like the sound of that."
Cas chuckled, getting caught up in the game despite himself.
"You're not supposed to."
Dean groaned and buried his face further into the pillow.
The thought came, unbidden, that Cas could kill him so easily right now. A thousand images flashed through his mind, half memory, half that terrible imagination he could never shut down. He shoved those thoughts away as best he could, thinking better of his earlier decision and turning Dean to face him again, needing the reminder that he was alive.
"Feeling a little indecisive there cowboy?" Dean asked with a raised eyebrow and a cocky smile.
Cas cut him off with a kiss. The confused look on Dean’s face when he pulled away told him all he needed to know, he had put too much of his heart into that kiss. He hadn't been able to help it. He needed soft and warm and loving before all that was left was cold and dark and dead. He moved away from Dean's face, knowing that was where the danger lay, and began to trail kisses down his chest. It was like he was trying to absorb Dean through his lips, eating in every gasp he wrung from him, saving them for after... after. He needed more. He tongued over the tattoo, tracing those stupid lines that had destroyed everything. Maybe if he licked hard enough the ink would fade and things could return to the way they were. The shape stayed stubbornly in place and Cas moved his attention to a nipple, gasps turning to moans now, biting down in search of the anger he knew he should feel. Still nothing came to replace sadness and longing. Loss, perhaps. Dean was writhing below him, clearly more sensitive than Cas had expected, not seeming to know whether to shy away from the pleasure or keen into it.
"Why couldn't you have just stayed sober?" Cas forced some steel into the words, as if they were anything but broken.
"Stop, I... I don't deserve..."
They were agreed on that. Dean didn't deserve anything that was going to happen tonight.
Cas buried his face between Dean’s legs, needing to hide from the eyes that he was going to close, needing to give a lifetime of pleasure in a single night.
"Please, don't," Dean half sobbed as Castiel flicked his tongue against his puckered hole.
Cas glanced up at him then, unable to draw his gaze away now that he had allowed himself to look, blinking slightly before he remembered himself.
"I would offer you the opportunity to safe word, but you are the one who denied yourself that mercy," he smiled a wicked smile and returned to his work, before it could slip.
He breached the rim slowly, tenderly, not increasing in pace or ferocity, even as Dean began to beg. The self loathing pouring out as if a dam had been broken, drowning Cas, only causing him to chase Dean's pleasure more intently, like it was air. He was practically sobbing, and Cas pulled himself away, caressing Dean's cheek and pressing spit slick lips to his dry ones.
"I need it to hurt, I need it- I need..." Cas shook his head sadly, touching forehead to forehead and hoping it would do something to calm the man, breathing in the same air.
"Do you not accept my judgement, Dean?" Cas was asking it honestly, knowing he would stop even without a safe word if Dean truly wanted him to.
Dean looked ready to say no, then bit his lip before speaking. Cas could practically see the thoughts flitting across his face: confusion, doubt, realisation. He swallowed, blinking back tears.
"Why won't you hurt me?" He whispered.
"Because you don't deserve it," Cas answered honestly.
He knew Dean wouldn't hear the words in the way he meant them, but he was too tired to correct him.
Dean swallowed again.
"Do what you want with me."
Ah, if only he had that option.
"I'm going to fuck you slow, and you're not going to come until I say. Understand?" The rule was a kindness, something Dean could hang onto, he didn't want him to lose himself, not yet.
When had Cas started dishing out kindness?
Dean nodded his head, giving Cas the permission he somehow needed. Cas kissed him, threading his fingers through Dean's where they were bound above his head, and slowly pushed in. He wished he could untie him and be touched in return, but knew that was far too dangerous, he would have to be content with the calloused fingers stroking the backs of his knuckles. He clung to him so hard he thought he might break, forcing himself to continue to move.
He was stalling, he knew he was, avoiding increasing the sensation and risking ending it. Dean was panting into his mouth, cluelessly chasing the release he was being denied. He tried to meet the thrusts but Cas stilled him, wrapping his arms around his back and keeping everything safe.
"Cas, Cas, Cas I'm gonna..."
Cas pulled out and Dean whined at the loss.
"Please," Dean breathed like it was a prayer, and Cas felt himself getting dangerously close himself.
"Just a little longer."
Cas knew he couldn't stall forever. He started fucking Dean slightly harder, wrapping his hand around his cock, allowing him to walk further along the road to hell.
"Come for me Dean."
He obeyed instantly, coating both of them in streaks of white, and the look of ecstasy on his face drove Cas over immediately after.
Cas felt like he was falling, incapable of doing anything but clinging to Dean and trying to remember how to breathe.
One more night couldn't hurt. He untied Dean's wrists and pulled the covers over both of them, curling up and drifting off to sleep in the arms of the enemy.
He could kill him tomorrow.