Work Header

Whiskey and Temptation

Work Text:



The soft pitter patter of rain on the Bunker’s roof is soothing for Dean as he lounges in a chair that’s facing the front door. He can’t sleep, hasn’t been able to for three days, so he takes another sip of whiskey and continues to stare at the one and only entrance to his home. Castiel’s been gone two days now, and he hasn’t checked in with Sam or Dean at all.


And Dean knows why. They’re fighting. Castiel always runs when him and Dean are fighting, if Dean doesn’t run first. They both have an unnatural talent at knowing the point when a fight needs to stop and one of them needs to leave before things get too real, get too intense, get too painful. They take a few days to cool off and when they come back, the fight is ignored.


They have years of unresolved anger and pain and tension and Dean’s sick of it. He’s sick of pretending. It’s eating them both alive. He can feel it lately. Between them. This living beast thrumming beneath the surface of their relationship. It terrifies him.


A loud shifting of metal draws Dean’s attention from his thoughts. He snaps his head up and looks at the door just as it opens, revealing a haggard and worn-down angel in a rumpled trench coat.


The two stare at each other for a few seconds before Castiel sucks in a deep breath and starts to descend down the stairs. “What’s up?”


“What’s up?” Dean pushes to his feet, putting his glass of whiskey down on the side table. He growls low in his throat and steps toward the angel. “What’s up? I’ve been worried sick. Where the fuck have you been?”


“Uh, well.” Castiel’s eyebrows pull in. “I was in a few places.”


“None of ‘em had cell reception? Couldn’t check in?”


Castiel shakes his head. “Dean, you were angry with me. I was giving you space.”


“I didn’t want space!”


“Dean, you told me to go!”


“I didn’t mean it!”


“Oh, jeez.” Castiel yanks harshly at his tie, trying to loosen it. Even though he’s an angel that doesn’t need oxygen, it still feels like he’s suffocating.


Dean takes a step closer to him, trying to fight the urge to wrap his arms around him and hold him tight. To tell him he’s not mad anymore, just relieved that he’s fine. Instead, he asks, “Where did you go?”


“Well, I went looking for more information on that witch coven Rowena told us about.”




Nearing the edge of his patience, Castiel answers through gritted teeth, “Because you told me, and I quote ‘don’t come back until you’re no longer useless’ and since our current situation could use the help of those particular witches, I went looking for them.”


Dean’s gut twists in guilt. He should have never called Castiel useless. He had just been so pissed at him. He can’t even remember over what at this moment, which makes him feel even worse.


As usual, though, Dean doesn’t apologize or tell Castiel he’s not useless. Instead, he’s an asshole and scoffs. “Well?”


“Well what?” Castiel growls.


“Well, what did you find?”


“They weren’t there.”


Dean throws his arms up. “Of course they weren’t. Wow. Super useful, Cas. I see why you felt ready to come back.”


“You know, I shouldn’t have even left in the first place. This is my home. Just because you told me to leave doesn’t mean I had to listen. I was respecting you by leaving. Respecting your wishes.” Castiel laughs sardonically, scrubbing a rough hand down his face. “That’s what I do, I guess. Whatever Dean wants, Dean gets, right?”


“Slightly dramatic,” Dean mumbles, stuffing his hands in his jean pockets.


Castiel takes a few steps forward until he’s just a breath away from Dean. “I gave up everything for you, Dean Winchester. You became my whole world. And you’ve never appreciated it. Not once.”


“That’s bullshit!”


“The only time you’ve ever admitted to needing me or caring about me or anything along those lines, it was only because it was benefitting you somehow. Because I was saving you or Sam, or helping on a case, or helping save the fucking world.”


Dean looks away. “Just because I don’t say it often doesn’t mean I don’t feel it all the time.”


All of Castiel’s energy evaporates. It took him forever to track down that coven of witches, and even though he didn’t find them, he did find a pack of pissed off werewolves that were apparently not impressed with an angel sniffing around their territory. He killed nine of them, then spent the night in a grimy motel slowly healing because of how weak his grace is. He’s too exhausted for this never-ending tug of war with Dean.


Castiel yanks at his tie again, trying to breathe. “Can we just not fight tonight, Dean? All we do is fight these days. I’m tired.”


“Seriously? So that’s it? Huh? You’re just gonna fucking leave again?” Dean rolls his eyes. “Yup. Typical Cas. Go ahead and leave. Run away.”


“Oh, I’m the one who runs away?” Castiel stalks forward and grabs Dean’s whiskey. He shakes it until liquid spills over before throwing it across the room, smiling when it explodes in a satisfying burst of glass and booze. “Oh no, there goes your whiskey. However will you deal with your problems now, Dean?”


Rage flashes in Dean’s green eyes, making them turn a darker shade. “I don’t drink to deal with my problems. I don’t use it to run away.”




“Don’t, Cas. I’m warning you.”


“You’re soaked in booze right now even. I can practically taste it in the air between us. Have you been drunk this whole time?”


From the way Dean’s muscles tense, Castiel knows he’s about to turn nasty. “Well, at least I just drink when I’m upset! It could be worse. I could be like you. The angel who ruined heaven.”


Castiel stumbles back, reeling from the verbal sucker punch. “How dare you? I ruined heaven for you, Dean. I did it all for you. Don’t you understand who I was before this? How powerful I was? How respected? I was important and valued and needed and cared for.”


“Oh boo hoo! Poor Castiel, the angel who rebelled. No one asked you to do it. Definitely not me. That was on you. I didn’t need you. I didn’t want you. You just fucking rebelled and then we had our hands full of a fucking angel spinning out of control.”


With a ferocious growl, Castiel launches forward and slams his hands into Dean’s chest, sending him into the wall. “Go fuck yourself!”


Dean gives Castiel a sarcastic smirk he knows drives the angel crazy. “Fuck me yourself you coward.”


Castiel tilts his chin up and an evil grin pulls at his lips. “Maybe I will.”


Dean shakes his head and sputters, “Wait - what?”


“I said,” Castiel grabs the lapels of Dean’s jacket and shoves him back into the wall, this time traveling with him so that their bodies are flush against each other. “Maybe. I. Will.”


“Wh-” before Dean can finish the word, Castiel’s lips are crashing against his, silencing him. He grunts and tenses up but then he's deflating, letting Castiel press him firmly into the wall. Castiel takes this as permission to continue.




“Hush,” he growls into Dean’s ear. “I’m pissed at you right now.”


Dean opens his mouth again, not willing to let Castiel silence him when he’s just as pissed off as the angel is, but his thoughts are brought elsewhere when Castiel clamps down on his neck and bites hard. “Oh - fuck.”


The angel chuckles at the response but then Dean is grabbing a fistful of his dark curls and yanking him so he can bite him in the exact same spot, cutting Castiel’s laughter off and replacing it with a deep groan. For some reason, Dean being aggressive fuels Castiel’s anger. He grabs Dean’s thighs and hoists him up so that the man is wrapping his legs around his waist, slamming him back into the wall hard enough to make Dean gasp, re-establishing his dominance over the man. His fingertips skim Dean's gun that's tucked in the back of his jeans beneath his shirt and Castiel grins at the reminder that this man is powerful and strong and badass and fucking whimpering right now as Castiel kisses him harder.


“Not so tough now, huh, Dean?”




“All bark and no bite. You didn’t think I’d take you up on the offer, did you?” Castiel teases, nipping along Dean’s strong jaw and down his neck.


The whispery little breath Dean takes is accompanied by a shiver and he smiles as Dean fails to defend himself. Fails to speak at all. He just presses his groin against Castiel’s front, shamelessly rubbing his hard cock across Castiel’s stomach, loving the feel of the denim between them.


Castiel laughs softly, leaning back to watch Dean. “I’m waiting.”


Bright green eyes look at him in desperation as Dean pants, “For what?”


“For the sarcasm. Or the insult. Or the anger.” Castiel waits, biting back his smile. When Dean just looks down, his thick eyelashes falling on his cheeks, Castiel makes a noise of affirmation in the back of his throat. “Perfect. After all these years, I finally found Dean Winchester’s off button. Is this all I need to do when we fight from now on? Huh? Kiss you? Dominate you?”


Dean shakes his head hard and Castiel raises his eyebrow in question. “No? Really?”


In a shaky voice, Dean whispers, “More.”




“Yes. More. Please.” Dean grinds against him again, shuddering. “More.”


“This isn’t enough?” Castiel kisses him before he can answer, pressing his mouth firmly against his and opening his lips with his tongue. He dominates Dean’s mouth as his hands start to explore the man’s naked back beneath his shirt. Dean arches into his touch and kisses him back, greedy and desperate. When Castiel pulls away, he asks again, “Not enough?”


“Not enough,” Dean chokes out.  


“Jeez. You’re quite the handful. Who knew?”


Dean can’t even feel embarrassed. He just tightens his hold on the back of Castiel’s neck and stares at him. “Only with you. Never like this with anyone else.”


And that’s the final straw. Castiel fucking loses it. He growls low in his throat and presses his fingers hard into Dean’s thighs, pulling him away from the wall and storming down the hallway. Their lips lock together in a violent clash as Castiel uses his heightened senses to navigate to Dean’s room.


When they finally make it, Castiel is kicking the door closed and nearly lunging toward the bed, falling on top of Dean and crushing him with his weight as he greedily attacks him for a new round of kissing and heavy petting. It doesn’t take long at all before he’s forcing his mouth away from Dean’s gorgeous body long enough to start ripping his clothes off. Literally ripping. He’ll repair them later - he knows the Led Zeppelin shirt is one of Dean’s favorites.


He only makes it to Dean’s belt before he’s too impatient to get his hands back on the man. Ignoring Dean’s clearly straining cock beneath his still tight jeans, Castiel begins to explore the naked upper half of the man’s gorgeous body. Starting at the jut of Dean’s collarbone on his right shoulder, Castiel presses delicate kisses to each of Dean’s freckles. As he descends, he gets more frantic, more excited, more amazed that this is finally happening - he, Castiel Novak, is finally kissing Dean Winchester. His kisses turn messy and aggressive. By the time he’s mouthing at Dean’s freckled rib cage, both Castiel and Dean are panting.


When he reaches Dean’s waistband, he’s devastated at the loss of skin to explore. He needs more. He needs all of it. All of him.


“Cas-” Dean chokes out, his hands shaking as he reaches out for Castiel. The angel has no idea what he needs or what he’s asking for, but he braces his hands on the mattress on each side of Dean’s waist and pushes his weight forward to get within reach of him. The second Dean’s able, he’s grabbing Castiel and clinging to him.


The radiating need from Dean makes him shiver, and Castiel leans down to kiss him. He tastes like whiskey and temptation.


Castiel’s addicted already.


Against his lips, Dean whispers, “I love you.” The second the words are out, Dean’s entire body tenses.


All of the roughness and anger and passion leaks right out of Castiel, quickly replaced with the warmest, most vibrant thing he’s ever felt; pure love. He pulls back to find that Dean’s head is turned so he’s hiding in the pillow, the cheek that’s exposed to Castiel bright red. With a nudge of his finger against Dean’s chin, he forces those green eyes to look up at him. He can tell that Dean wants to be anywhere else right now. Feeling vulnerable. Feeling unloved.


Castiel will never let Dean Winchester feel unloved again.


“I love you too, Dean. I’ve always had a hard time being anything but in awe of you. Even the first time we met, I nearly got my ass killed by a group of demons. You were distracting. The most beautiful thing I had ever seen in human existence. But once I fell in love with you?” Castiel releases a breathy huff before grinning. “I was a goner.”


“Wait. You-” Dean pauses, sinking as far into the mattress as he can, like he wants to escape Castiel. Escape this moment. He’s fucking terrified.


Castiel saves him from having to speak. “Yes, Dean. I love you. And not like Sam. Not like Jack. Not like anyone or anything I’ve ever known. How could you ever doubt that? From the moment I rebelled, I’ve been in love with you.”


Dean’s face blooms into a grin, green eyes lit up like beacons, freckles scrunched from where his cheeks are pushed up. It’s the happiest Castiel has seen him in a long time. But then it all crumples and Dean lets his eyes fall shut in devastation. The noise that comes from his throat is pained and broken. Then he’s looking at Castiel and sitting up so Castiel is in his lap, straddling him. Dean rests his back against the headboard and cups the angel’s face softly.


“What I said earlier, about you rebelling - Cas, that wasn’t true. None of it was true. Okay?”


Blue eyes fall away from his face, focusing on something near Dean’s elbow instead. “Yeah. Okay.”


“Cas.” Dean waits, his heart pounding, but Castiel can’t look at him. He doesn’t believe it. He’ll never believe that he’s something Dean wanted. That Dean needed. Not in the way Dean’s claiming. “Cas. Please. Look at me.” He strokes his thumb on his cheekbone and tugs a little, trying to get him to come back. Castiel’s face is forced forward and his eyes accidently lock with Dean’s. “Please,” he whispers a final time, desperate.


“It’s okay, Dean. I never expected anything from you. From this. I understood what we were.”


“I don’t care what you expected. I love you anyway.”




“I love you anyway.”




“Cas-” Dean leans forward, tightening his grip on Castiel’s face. Their eyes search each other for so many things. Things they’ve lost in the past. Things they thought they’d never see again. Parts of their souls and hearts and minds. They find them now, in the green, in the blue, and they both exhale in relief. Dean whispers as his lips tug upward into a soft smile. “I love you anyway. I love you always.”


Castiel shivers. “Always?”


“Always,” Dean promises. His eyes travel around to look at Castiel’s face, searching for something. Then that grin from earlier returns and Dean’s grabbing him violently, rolling them in one sharp movement so that Castiel is pinned beneath him. “I love you, Cas.”


Castiel’s mind seems to leave his body in order to process just how beautiful those words sound coming from Dean Winchester’s lips.


A shift happens in Dean’s face. His grin tilts ever so slightly. He licks across the seam of his mouth. Green eyes focus on Castiel, narrowing. He looks like he’s about to eat him alive. Castiel shivers and exhales a broken, pent up breath. Then Dean’s on him, his hands pulling at Castiel’s shirt, grumbling under his breath in frustration when Castiel gets tangled. Castiel starts laughing which makes Dean grumble worse. “Do an angel thing and make these go away.”


“What fun would that be?” Castiel teases, dodging an elbow when Dean tries getting his tie loose.


Dean huffs and yanks at the tie again. He finally loosens it enough to successfully get the tie over Castiel’s head, ruffling his hair. After that, the rest is easy. He rips the dress shirt open - if Castiel can do it, then so can he - and pushes it off his shoulders to pool at his wrists. Castiel shifts to get it the rest of the way off while Dean works on freeing them both from their pants. He leaves them in their boxers, not wanting to get too excited yet. Castiel got to thoroughly explore him earlier. Now it’s time for Dean to return the favor.


Starting at the hollow of Castiel’s throat, Dean works open mouthed kisses down the angel’s body. He stops at his nipples to see what happens. Turns out, Castiel has extremely sensitive nipples. The pink buds harden and flush red just from Dean’s breath on them. When Dean takes one into his mouth, Castiel is arching his back, whimpering.


“Oh shit, Dean.” Castiel grabs a fistful of his hair, holding him so he can’t pull away. The angel is unsure what theses sensations are, but they feel damn amazing and he doesn’t want them to stop.


Chuckling against him, Dean leaves one nipple to start on the other. When the cool air hits the wet one, Castiel shivers. “Dean. Fuck.”


“God, I love that you’re sensitive,” Dean murmurs against his skin. Castiel can feel his smile there. “Wonder what else is sensitive.”


Before Castiel can argue, his lips are on the move again. He lets go of Dean’s hair to let him explore, grabbing the sheets with both hands for dear life. When he feels a hot mouth against his boxers, licking and nuzzling right where his cock is covered, he’s had enough. He grabs Dean by his biceps and hauls him up and over, rolling with him so he’s on top now. Dean’s eyes flare and he swears the green gets brighter.


“You like that?” Castiel pants, burying his face in Dean’s neck and sucking a mark there. He wants Dean to have to walk around tomorrow with proof that he’s no longer available. All the hot girls on hunts. All the guys that probably pine after him. Eventually, Castiel plans to get a ring on his finger. Until then, these will have to do. “You like when I’m rough with you?”


“Yes.” Dean writhes underneath him, turning his head to the side to expose more of his neck for Castiel to bite and suck. “Fuck - Cas.”


“No. You won’t be fucking Cas. I thought we already agreed,” Castiel teases. “I’m going to be fucking you.”


Dean growls, “Then fucking do it already.”


“I don’t think so. You need an attitude adjustment, Dean.”


“What?” Dean looks up at him in confusion, eyebrows pulled in. “What the hell does that mean?”


“You fucking kicked me out. Called me useless.” Castiel’s hand wraps around Dean’s throat. He squeezes. Not enough to cut off his air supply, but enough to remind him he could. “Then you had the audacity to yell at me when I came back. To insinuate I’m useless again.”


“Cas - I - Shit, Cas. I didn’t mean it.”


Castiel smiles, starting to flex his fingers. His thumb and pointer settle beneath the hinges of Dean’s jaw and he presses upward. A buzzing sound fills Dean’s ears as he feels his blood pounding between his eyes. With every second, his vision loses more focus. “Oh, I know you didn’t mean it, Dean. But that’s the problem, isn’t it? You can’t figure out how to be honest about your feelings.”


Parting his lips, Dean tries to speak. All that comes out is a rasp. Castiel relaxes his fingers and raises an eyebrow in expectation. After a deep breath, Dean promises, “I won’t do that anymore. I told you I love you. Everything’s fine now.”


“Yeah? You sure?” Castiel tightens his hand, then leans down to drag the tip of his tongue along Dean’s jaw line. The man beneath him releases a choked moan as he lifts his hips up to get friction against Castiel. With his free hand, Castiel presses Dean down, not letting him move. “You won’t tell me tomorrow that this was because you’re drunk? Or you won’t take it back a week from now when I do something to piss you off? You won’t blame me for stupid shit anymore, because it’s easier than admitting you fucked up or admitting that the situation is hopeless? You won’t try to kick me out when your feelings get too much for you to handle?”


Dean bites his bottom lip and Castiel nods. It’s answer enough. They both know him too well. Dean’s a runner.


Castiel needs to make sure it’s ingrained in his mind that running from this is not an option.


“You aren’t going anywhere, Dean. You’re stuck now. You’re mine. No more lies. No more angry outbursts. No more drunken insults.” Castiel’s fingers clamp down harder and Dean’s lips part as he tries to suck in air, his eyes rolling back in his head. Now that his bottom lip is available, Castiel leans down and bites it. Hard. When he’s rewarded with drops of blood, he licks them gone and finally lets go of Dean’s throat. Dean coughs and gasps, but his cock is hard beneath Castiel and he tries to grind against him again.


“Promise,” Dean wheezes, rolling his hips.


Castiel tightens his grip on Dean’s stomach, keeping him firmly against the mattress and making him whine in frustration. “Not good enough, Dean. I think I need to fuck the lesson into you.”


With a nod, Dean whimpers. “Yes. Yes, Cas, please. Fuck me. Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.”


Power rushes up Castiel’s spine and the smile that spreads across the angel’s face makes Dean shiver. “You’re gonna regret that, Dean.”




“Shh,” Castiel instructs, putting a hand over Dean’s mouth to keep him quiet. Castiel’s pupils dilate as he studies the way this strong, stubborn man looks beneath him like this. Vulnerable and at his mercy. “Do you have a safeword, Dean?”


Dean’s eyes flash and the second the hand is removed from his mouth, he’s sputtering, “How the hell do you know ‘bout safewords?”


Castiel chuckles. “You don’t clear your browser, Dean. I like to watch your porn and read those fanfics you like so much. I like to know what you want in bed. What you crave. All your secret little desires.”


When Dean starts to catalog the memories in his mind of the porn he’s watched and fics he's read since they moved here, his cheeks burn and his cock throbs. Not knowing what else to say, he mumbles, “It’s Impala.”


“Perfect. I assume you know how to use it?”




“Yes, sir,” Castiel corrects.


Those beautiful green eyes narrow at him, even though he knows Dean’s incredibly turned on. “I’m not going to be some submissive or any of that shit. No way. Fuck that.”


“Mmmm, sure Dean. Whatever you say.”


“I’m serious. I-” Dean’s words are cut off when Castiel finally lowers his body and grinds against him. His head tilts back as he releases a needy moan. Castiel removes his hand from Dean’s stomach and grins as Dean shamelessly begins to hump up against him.


Then, as Dean’s starting to pant and shake, Castiel puts the hand back on him and forces him to stop. Dean’s eyes widen as he looks at Castiel in betrayal. All Dean can manage is a throaty, “What?”


“Yes, sir,” Castiel corrects again, letting Dean know this is about his stubbornness from before.


Dean huffs. “No way, man. Angel or not, I can hold my own. I’m not some weak mother fucker that-”


He’s cut off again, this time by Castiel slipping a hand below the waistband of his underwear. The second his fingertips come in contact with Dean’s cockhead, the man is melting. He spreads his legs wider and lifts his hips, trying to get Castiel to do more than just the light touches. Unfortunately, Castiel doesn’t listen. He just continues to drag his fingertips in feathery soft strokes along the top of Dean’s cock, avoiding the slit that’s leaking precum.


“Yes, sir,” Castiel says in a sing-song voice.


He smiles when Dean closes his eyes, knowing he’s close to giving in. Not yet, though. Castiel understands the man he’s dealing with. There’s still a little bit of fight left in him.




“Wrong. Try again.”


“Come on, man,” Dean groans, opening his eyes just enough to squint up at him. He looks ready to cry. “Cas. Fuck me. Please.”


“Give up control.”


Dean shakes his head, eyes falling closed again. “You know I can’t.”


“You know I’ll take care of you if you do,” Castiel counters.


“I-” Dean stops, nibbling on his bottom lip. His mouth fills with blood, reminding him of the way Castiel bit him earlier, and his stomach flutters. Castiel isn’t treating him like he’s weak, even if he’s telling him to submit. He slammed him into the wall. He choked him. He made him bleed. Maybe giving up control doesn’t have to change the fact that Dean’s strong.


Hell, maybe there’s strength in the submission.


Dean looks at Castiel, green eyes bright, and Castiel smiles because he already knows he won. Those pretty pink lips part and Dean whispers, “Only in bed, okay?”


“Of course, Dean.” Castiel nods in understanding. “Only in bed.”


“Okay.” Dean lets out a shaky little laugh before adding, “Sir.”


Castiel’s cock gets so hard so fast he nearly collapses. Instead, he digs his nails into the palms of his hands and tells Dean in a gravelly voice, “Good boy. Now, let’s try this again. Do you know how to use your safeword, Dean?”


“Yes, sir.”


“Mmm. Good.” Castiel reaches to the side, collecting the tie Dean worked so damn hard to take off him. He undoes the knot quickly, gathering Dean’s hands and tying them together. When his wrists are secured, Castiel places them above his head, arms stretched as far as they can go, and attaches them to the headboard. Then he grabs Dean’s hips and turns him onto his stomach.


With a quick tug, Dean’s boxers are down to his knees, revealing his perfect round ass to Castiel. The angel has to take a deep breath and steady himself as he takes in every inch of the pale, freckled skin.


“You’re fucking beautiful,” he admits, a hand stroking across a cheek.


Dean shudders and involuntarily lifts his ass like a request for more. “Thank you, sir.”


“Mmmm.” Castiel lifts his hand, then smacks it against the same spot he was just touching softly. Dean’s body jolts and he gasps, but Castiel doesn’t give him time to recover. He hits him again. Then on the other side. Castiel alternates until the man’s globes are a bright shade of pink.


“Now?” Castiel pants, adjusting his cock to try and alleviate the pressure of it against his boxers. “Now you’re breathtaking. Gorgeous. Fucking perfect.”


The compliments mixed with the pain and embarrassment sends a wave of goosebumps along Dean’s body. He shivers and hides his face in the mattress as Castiel gently smoothes his hands over the abused skin of his ass. “Do you think you learned your lesson, yet, Dean?”


Dean chokes on what might very well be a sob, shaking his head no. Castiel hits him once more on each cheek before growling, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you.”


Lifting his chin just enough to free his lips from the sheets, Dean croaks, “No, sir. I haven’t learned my lesson.”


Castiel grins. He knew Dean would be a glutton for punishment, and he’s willing to deliver a bit more if the man truly needs it to let himself relax. But then? Then he’s going to worship the man until Dean forgets every terrible thing that’s happened to him. Until he finally realizes how much of a miracle he is. Dean Winchester deserves the damn world.


Castiel plans to deliver it.


Flipping Dean over, Castiel sits back on his knees and appreciates his new view, licking his lips. Dean’s cock is bright red and leaking against his pale stomach, bobbing with the rhythm of his pulse.


“Your cock looks like it’s desperate for attention. Is it needy, Dean?”


“Yes, sir.”


“Are you needy?”


Dean gulps, cheeks turning pink. “Yes, sir.”


“Mmm. I can see that.” Castiel circles one of Dean’s nipples with his finger, then the other, before traveling along the curves of his stomach muscles. He passes his groin, ignoring the cock that jumps when he goes near it, and continues the movement down Dean’s inner thigh. “What should we do about that?”


When he meets Dean’s gaze, he sees the man’s eyes are glazed over. He’s staring at Castiel in a trance. “Please,” he whimpers, making Castiel smile.


“Please what?”


“Please, sir.”


Castiel chuckles, because that’s not what he was trying to correct. “Please, sir, what? What do you want me to do to you, Dean? Punish you more? Or fuck you?”


He watches the hunter battle internally. Castiel knows this man. Hell, he’s rebuilt him a few times himself, making sure every nook and cranny of his body and soul is perfectly in place. Castiel knows that Dean wants to be fucked, but Dean also believes he deserves to be punished, and the realization doesn’t sit right with the angel. He’s done punishing him. Dean Winchester punishes himself every day. That’s not Castiel’s job. Castiel is the angel watching over him. Castiel will save the stubborn man from himself if he has to.


“Since I’m in charge, I think I’ll decide,” Castiel whispers in a growly voice that makes Dean’s entire body shiver. “I think I want to take my time with you.”


Dean whines, lifting his hips just as Castiel moves away. He drops back to the mattress with a scowl. “Touch me. Please, sir. Touch me.”


“Oh, don’t worry. I will.” Castiel takes his hand from where it was resting on Dean’s leg, moving it to the other one. Then he begins to travel back up the man’s body, making sure to once again avoid his cock that’s a much angrier red this time around. He ghosts his fingers over Dean’s wrists and elbows. His shoulders. Collarbone. The shells of his ears. The hinges of his jaw. He traces the outline of his lips. Smoothes down the hair of his eyebrows. Taps the clusters of freckles.


He presses a firm kiss just above Dean’s belly button. Castiel’s chin brushes against the tip of Dean’s cock as he presses his lips there. The rough stubble feels amazing on Dean’s over sensitive skin, and the man moans.


“Stop teasing, Cas,” Dean barks, even though he’s flushed and panting and rolling his hips, giving away that he’s not really angry, just desperate. “Fuck me or I’m gonna fuck you.”


This makes Castiel laugh, the sound low and haunting. “I’d like to see you try, Winchester.”


Closing his eyes, Dean accepts his fate. He’s tied up and pressed down by a fucking angel. Castiel can take however long he wants. Dean’s at his mercy.


Dean’s never felt so helpless.


He’s never felt so turned on.


He’s never felt so fucking free.


That’s when Castiel decides to surprise him with a lubed finger against his hole. Dean’s mouth drops open, a sound escaping him that Castiel never imagined could come from the man. It’s incredibly satisfying.


He wants more.


Pulling his finger out, he gently eases it back in, this time Dean’s hole letting him go deeper. After dipping in and out of him a few more times, Castiel is rewarded with Dean’s bright green eyes, wide open in shock.


“Have you ever done this, Dean?” Castiel asks, trying to sound curious instead of jealous. “Has a man ever been here before?”


After a quick nibble to his bottom lip, Dean whispers, “No. Just you.”


“Good.” Castiel leans forward, brushing his lips against Dean’s. It’s less of a kiss and more of a reassurance that this is still real. That Dean’s still here. Dean must need the same thing, because he lifts his head off the pillow and chases Castiel until they’re kissing each other hard, tongues and teeth clashing as their need for each other violently erupts.


By the time Castiel is pulling back, not because he needs to breathe but because Dean needs to, he’s sliding a second finger into the man. Dean barely has time to suck in air before he’s choking, legs involuntarily spreading to give Castiel better access.


Castiel studies him as he pumps two fingers into his hole, trying to memorize every detail of the moment. His freckled face is bright red and his pink lips are glistening from how many times he’s licked them. Those green eyes of his can barely stay open, his long, thick lashes batting against his cheek every time he blinks. His nipples are hard little buds and goosebumps run all along his torso and arms. His cock is even redder than his face, making it closer to purple than anything else. It’s leaking a steady pool of precum as Dean grinds his ass against Castiel’s fingers.


“Fuck, Dean. You’re beautiful like this.”


“Stop,” Dean pants, shaking his head as the flush from his cheeks begins to travel toward his chest.


“Stop what?” Castiel drags his tongue along the curve of Dean’s throat, making him moan and try to buck up against him, desperate for some sort of friction against his ignored cock. “Stop complimenting you?”


Dean closes his eyes, trying to lift his hips again. He manages to scrape the button of Castiel’s pants and gasps at the slight contact, body shuddering. Castiel moves so it won’t happen again.


“Let’s play a game, Dean,” Castiel whispers, figuring out the perfect way to go from the punishment Dean wants to the worshipping he needs. “I won’t put my cock inside you until you can admit that I’m right.”


Dean blinks up at him, green eyes drowning in confusion and lust. “What? Right about what?”


“Right about you being beautiful.” Castiel plants a kiss on the corner of his jaw. “About you being strong.” He presses another over Dean’s sternum. “Being perfect.” He wraps his lips around Dean’s left nipple.


“Stop.” Dean tries to move his body, for the first time avoiding Castiel’s touch instead of chasing it. “Stop, sir. Please.”


“Of course. No problem for me. I’m not the one desperate to be fucked. I have the self-restraint of an angel.” Castiel’s soft smile turns mischievous, almost on the edge of cruel, and he slips a third finger inside Dean’s hole. The man’s feet kick out as he both fights and accepts the intrusion, caught between wanting to chase the pleasure and wanting to refuse the praise. “So good for me, Dean.”


“Cas, stop - stop.”


Castiel raises an eyebrow, watching as Dean continues to fuck himself on his fingers. “Did you forget your safeword, beautiful?”


All Dean says is, “Stop. Please.”


Doing the opposite, Castiel searches out the man’s prostate and begins to press against it in slow pulses. Dean seems to choke on his spit, head lifting off the pillow just so he can slam it back again. His breaths come out desperate and ragged.


“You’re perfect.”


“Stop. Fuck, stop.” Dean grits his teeth, whining. “Please, Cas, stop.”


“Do you know your safeword, Dean?” Castiel asks, still teasing but slightly worried the man is too far gone to remember. “Tell me your safeword.”


Dean sucks in a breath when Castiel’s fingers slow down, not understanding why the man would stop. Then he registers that he’s being asked to check in, to let Castiel know he doesn’t really want to stop, and he’s not answering. He opens his eyes to find an extremely concerned Castiel, biting his lip as he continues to slowly work Dean open.


Panting, Dean manages, “Im - Impala.”


“Good boy.” Castiel returns to the confidence from before, speeding up his thrusts and pounding against Dean’s prostate. “Do you want to use it, Dean? Or do you want me to keep going?”


Dean closes his eyes again, but it does nothing to cover his shame. He turns his head to the side so he can bury his face in the crook of one arm, trying to hide from Castiel as he continues rolling his hips. He stays quiet, no longer asking him to stop, and definitely not using his safeword. If Castiel actually stopped, Dean thinks he’d die.


“That’s what I thought,” Castiel whispers, his mouth suddenly right against the shell of Dean’s ear. The angel wasn’t aware, but Dean’s ears are sensitive, and the hot breath there makes his entire body tense, his hole squeezing Castiel’s fingers. “Fuck. So perfect, Dean. So amazing for me.”


Dean only manages to shake his head, pressing his face harder against his arm.


“You deserved to be saved, Dean.”




“You deserve to be here. Right here. Doing this.” Castiel leans forward, kissing him again.


Against his lips, Dean pleads, “Cas, don’t.”


“Aren’t you tired, Dean? Aren’t you sick of feeling like you’re not good enough?”




“I’m an angel. I fought through hell for you. I rebelled for you. I died for you.” Castiel stops running his fingers over Dean’s over sensitive body so he can pull back and look Dean in the eyes. Even his fingers stop moving inside him. Dean sucks in a breath and holds it, his green irises darkening in fear. “After being alive for all millennia, after all I’ve lived through, after all I’ve seen, all I’ve done, how can you possibly believe I’d make a mistake? Saving you was right. You were worth it all, Dean. Every second.”


“Stop.” Dean breathes the word, a useless puff that evaporates the moment it hits the air. His eyes flutter closed in defeat. Castiel pulls out his fingers, sensing that Dean’s about to give in. All he needs is a little push.


Getting up on his knees, Castiel squeezes lube onto his palm and starts to stroke himself, smiling when Dean cautiously opens his eyes to watch. Dean clamps down on his bottom lip and whimpers, hips gyrating even though he has nothing on either side of them to rub against. He’s empty and untouched and he needs Castiel inside him. He needs him like he needs air.


“You deserved to be saved, Dean.”


Dean is unable to close his eyes, to look away from the large hand working along a rather impressive length. He’s not even sure Castiel is going to fit inside him. The dildos he’s played with here and there never came near that. But he wants it anyway. He wants Castiel to fucking rip him apart if that’s what it takes.


“Cas - please.”


“Say it, Dean. Say it and you can have me.”


“It’s not - I can’t.” A tear slips down Dean’s cheek and he tugs at the tie keeping his hands in place. He turns a pleading look to Castiel, desperate for the angel to understand. His voice breaks as another tear falls. “Don’t make me. Please. Just fuck me.”


Castiel’s heart breaks as he stares at the man he loves falling apart. His entire body is shaking with need, but also with fear. He’s terrified. Terrified of even thinking about those things. Terrified of saying words like that. Terrified of giving himself worth. Terrified of how it would feel to live tomorrow after letting himself believe he was actually a good person.


When Castiel lays his body over Dean, Dean whispers, “Please.”


“Shh,” Castiel kisses his temple, reaching up to free Dean’s hands. The second Dean is able, his arms are wrapping tight around Castiel’s torso, fingers digging into him like he’s worried Castiel will try to leave. “I’ve got you, Dean. You’re okay.”


“Please,” Dean says again, this time the word coming out with a broken sob. He turns his face into Castiel’s neck and lets another one fall from his lips. Castiel doesn’t know if he’s begging to be fucked or begging for Castiel to stop the game. It doesn’t matter. He’ll give the man both.


All it takes is a slight shift of his hips and a gentle nudge, and Dean’s hole is fluttering open for him. It’s impossibly tight and hot and Castiel’s grip tightens on Dean’s skin as he hisses through his teeth. Dean is having the same kind of reaction, his face twisted in the perfect mixture of pain and pleasure. Locking their lips together, Castiel goes slow. He rocks gently, letting his cock work its way in without him forcing it. When he finally bottoms out, Dean’s calmed down enough to smile up at him.


Castiel rubs the tips of their noses together, chuckling when it makes Dean shiver and melt. The soft chuckle turns to a full laugh when Dean scowls at him, grumbling, “Stop being all sweet and shit. I was promised fucking.”


Rolling his eyes, Castiel pulls back until the tip of his cock is tugging at Dean’s rim. He waits there for longer than necessary, loving the way Dean’s eyes keep flashing, his body tensing every few seconds in anticipation.


“I can still be sweet and shit while fucking you, Dean. I’m an excellent multi-tasker.”


Castiel waits until Dean’s smirk opens so he can say something sarcastic in response, then slams into him hard enough to send his body a few inches up the mattress. The man beneath him blinks rapidly, looking as if the breath got knocked out of him, but Castiel just pulls away and does it again. And again. And again.


When Dean finally recovers, he’s lifting his hips to meet every thrust, their skin slapping together so hard Castiel knows the man will be bruised in the morning. The idea appeals to him and he finds himself lowering his face to Dean’s neck, latching onto it. Dean groans and his nails dig hard into Castiel’s back, drawing blood. He feels Dean tense at the idea that he hurt Castiel, so Castiel grabs a fistful of his hair and brings their mouths together, biting his bottom lip hard enough to make it bleed again. It’s enough of a reminder and then Dean’s letting loose, raking nails across Castiel’s skin, yanking his black curls, squeezing his ass cheeks, biting his neck and shoulder.


“So perfect,” Castiel whispers. “So amazing, Dean.”


At first, Dean just continues what he’s doing. He’s pretty much a professional at sex, and

he knows Castiel is just doing what most tops do, raining down compliments to make the bottom feel safe and comfortable. Dean has to admit that it actually feels damn nice to be on the receiving end of that for a change.


It isn’t until Castiel says, “Take it, Dean. Take your pleasure from me. You deserve it. Let yourself feel good. Let yourself be happy,” that Dean’s body tenses.


The fucker is still playing the game from earlier.


“Shhhh,” Castiel whispers, sensing Dean’s shift in attitude. “Just relax.”




“It’s okay. I’ve got you.”


Dean wants to argue that that’s not the fucking issue, but Castiel shifts his hips so that his next thrust is right against Dean’s prostate, and a hand wraps around Dean’s cock to massage it. The words Dean planned on spitting out at Castiel disappear, replaced with a white-hot need.


“I love you, Dean,” Castiel whispers against his ear, darting his tongue out to lick the sensitive shell.


With a shudder, Dean croaks, “I love you, too.”


“Mmmm.” Castiel starts moving faster, making sure to tilt his hips so every thrust pushes Dean closer to the edge. When he feels Dean’s cock starting to pulse harder in his hand, he asks, “Do you think you deserve to be loved, Dean?”


Dean squeezes his eyes shut and ignores him, focusing on chasing his pleasure. He meets Castiel’s movements with his own, only a few thrusts away from his orgasm, his stomach curling with heat.


Then everything stops. No more kissing or biting. No more movement in his hole. No more hand on his cock. He snaps his eyes open in shock. “Wha-?”


Castiel lifts a corner of his mouth, blue eyes bright. “Do you think you deserve to be loved?”


“Fucking hell, Cas.” Anger flashes in Dean’s expression and Castiel is fine with it. He doesn’t care what emotions he rips from this man, as long as he can get him to admit that he’s worthy.


“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Castiel promises, smiling wider when Dean’s cheeks turn pink at the pet name. “You like me callin’ you that?”


Dean thinks of all the girls he’s called that in his life. Sometimes in situations like this, others in sarcasm or annoyance. Never before did he imagine someone calling him it.






“Yes what?” Castiel asks, starting to slowly move his hips again, fingers ghosting along Dean’s cock.


“I like it. You callin’ me - sweet - ya know.”


Castiel chuckles. “Do you like this too, Dean?” he asks as he speeds his movements up, tightening his hand around Dean’s cock and jacking him hard.


Dean pants. “Yes. Fuck. Amazing.”


“Do you like me loving you?”


“Of course,” Dean looks him in the eyes, nearly losing his mind as Castiel sends him barreling toward the orgasm he denied him before.


“Do you deserve it?”


“Yes.” Dean nods frantically, not even registering what he’s saying. “Yes, Cas.”


“Yes what?”


Dean pauses, trying to process the words they’ve been exchanging. When he figures out what they’re talking about, the anger he expected doesn’t come. Instead, he feels relieved. Validated. He does fucking deserve it. He deserves to be loved. He loves fiercely. Sammy. Jack. Castiel. He’s fought monsters since he was four years old. Raised his brother. Cleaned up his dad’s messes, scraping him off the floor when he got too wasted to do it himself.


He saves people.


He saved the fucking world.


Looking up at Castiel’s bright blue eyes, Dean ignores the way his heart pounds in a panicked rage against his chest, telling him firmly, “I deserve to be loved.”


The smile this earns him is brilliant and epic and Dean can barely breathe as he looks at it. “Yes, Dean. Yes you do.”


“I deserved to be saved,” this time it’s a whispered confession, like he’s torn between amazement and surprise.


“Yes, Dean.” Castiel latches his mouth over Dean’s, giving him a gentle but demanding kiss. He picks up his pace to what it was before Dean finally admitted to deserving this, knowing they’re both only seconds from the edge. “You deserve to be happy, Dean.”


“Yeah.” Dean arches his back as Castiel hits his prostate and twists his hand on his cock. “I d - des - ve - be happy.”


Then he’s coming, wildly, eyes slamming shut to escape the way his vision blurs and blackens around the edges. Castiel shifts his position and slows down, fucking Dean through the orgasm as his own unravels. When Dean’s completely relaxed beneath him, his cock spent and his ass full of Castiel’s cum, Castiel gently pulls out and sits back on his knees. Dean doesn’t move or blink or make a sound. He just continues laying on his back, head tilted to the side a tad so his cheek is on the pillow, a sleepy smile on his lips.


“Dean?” Castiel whispers as he reaches down to grab his shirt from the floor. He could use his grace to clean them up, but there’s something about doing it the human way that appeals to him. Using the shirt, he wipes up most of the cum on Dean’s body and does a quick pass through his ass cheeks to catch anything that leaked out. Then he tugs the blankets out from under Dean and pulls them back, crawling in beside the man that’s asleep.


Just as the blankets are wrapped tightly around them, Dean stirs awake. Castiel pauses, one arm hovering in the air where he was about to grab the man and pull him into a spooning cuddle. He holds his breath, terrified of what might happen now. If Dean will try to run.


Dean blinks up at him and there’s confusion in the green of his eyes. “Cas?”


“Yeah?” Castiel asks, unable to mask the way his voice shakes with fear.


“I gotta piss.”


For a second, Castiel just stares at him. Then he bursts out laughing. “What?”


“I gotta piss. I don’t know how this works with angels, but I can’t go to sleep after sex until I go to the bathroom.”


“Right. Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t consider your bladder,” Castiel says, only partially teasing. Then his gut twists and he asks in a quiet voice, “Would you like me to leave then? I understand if you want me to go sl-”


His words are cut off when Dean sits up and kisses him. This time, Dean’s in charge, grabbing Castiel by the cheeks and kissing him long and slow and deep. When he has the angel breathless, despite how it should be impossible, he pulls back and whispers against his wet lips. “Don’t you fucking dare. I want you right here when I get back.”


Castiel shivers, grinning. “Then I’ll be right here.”


“Good.” Dean gets off the bed and backs away toward the door, still facing Castiel as if he can’t stand the thought of looking away too soon. When he finally turns and slips away into the hall, Castiel finds himself staring at the wall across the room. He doesn’t come in Dean’s room often, Dean’s very sensitive when it comes to his privacy, but the last time he was in here the wall was empty. Sometime in the past few weeks, Dean had decorated it. With pictures.


A ton of pictures.


They’re not in frames, instead just tacked to the wall all over the place. There’s some of Dean’s mom and him when he was small. One of the family of four before yellow eyes killed Mary. At least five or six of him and Sam, all varying ages. There’s one of him, Sam, and Bobby. Another of the group of them, Dean, Sam, Ellen, Jo, Bobby, and Castiel, the night before they tried to kill the devil. A picture of Charlie and Dean in their LARPing outfits. A picture of Castiel, Jack, Dean and Sam outside fishing. A picture of Castiel and Dean the night Dean brought him to his first strip club. Castiel smiles at that picture, remembering how Dean had told him he hadn’t laughed that hard in a long time.


Then Castiel’s heart stutters as he continues to look at the pictures in the surrounding area. They’re all of him and Dean, or just him. One of them in their cowboy hats. One of them at a truckstop eating burgers. One of Castiel giving the camera an annoyed look as Dean snapped a photo of him in his pretend doctor outfit. Another of Castiel laughing, looking off toward Sam without any knowledge that the picture was being taken. Another of Castiel asleep in the backseat of the impala, using Dean’s favorite leather jacket as a makeshift pillow.


“Jack convinced me to do it,” Dean says from the doorway, making Castiel jump. As he walks forward, he clarifies. “He told me my room wasn’t happy enough. When I asked him how the hell are you supposed to make a room happy, he told me to hang pictures of the people I love.”


Castiel nods, looking at the wall again. He’s the only person with just pictures of himself. Every other picture has Dean with at least one other person. There’s no images of just Sam or just Jack or just Mary.


He feels the bed shift beside him as Dean gets back in his spot. The wall disappears as the man turns the lamp off but Castiel continues to stare at the place where he knows his pictures hang. Part of him was worried that this had happened because Dean was drinking or because he was angry or because Castiel was edging him, making him horny and desperate. Part of him was still afraid that Dean would run, either tonight or in the morning or maybe in a few weeks.


But Dean hung pictures of him up.


Dean used his image to make his room happy.






“Will you hold me like you were gonna before? I - it sounds like it might be kinda nice.”


Castiel’s entire world seems to shift on its axis before firmly settling in place. “Of course, Dean.”


Lying down, Castiel turns to his side and pulls Dean to him, wrapping an arm around his waist. Dean’s naked ass fits perfectly inside the curve of Castiel’s groin, just like the rest of their bodies, slotting together like puzzle pieces. It shouldn’t surprise Castiel, he knew from the beginning they were made for each other, but knowing and experiencing are two very different things.


As Dean sinks into him further, absorbing his warmth, he smiles and says for the first time in his life, “Thank you for saving me, Cas.”


Castiel closes his eyes to keep the tears from falling. “Any time, Dean. I love you.”


“Yeah,” Dean whispers, his voice soft and warm. Castiel feels the last of the man’s tension completely evaporate, allowing him to sink fully into Castiel’s hold. An overwhelming sense of happiness and safety radiates from Dean’s soul. “I love you too.”