A long time ago, when the Earth was still young and the humans were just figuring out tools, the Angels fought a hellish war with the Demons. “The Apocalypse”, the humans would later dub it, “The War” the Angels call it. No one wants to know what the Demons called it.
Humans and animals alike had rallied behind the Angels to protect their valuable Earth and led by the Archangel Michael and his mighty sword, the Angels eventually prevailed. The Demons were locked inside Hell and the gates were sealed.
The Earth was scorched and damaged but where there was will there would also be life and the humans were nothing if not resilient. The apocalyptic war having been brought upon Earth because of the Angel traitor Lucifer, the Angels took pity on the humans and helped them restore what had been lost.
Forever grateful, the humans offered the only thing they had as payment: themselves.
Ever since that day, humans offer themselves up as willing “slaves” to be bought at auctions. At the beginning such a slave would perform menial tasks over a set period of time for the Angel who purchased them.
Over the centuries, the service evolved and as the Earth enters the 21st century the human slave business has developed into a billion dollar industry where willing humans offer themselves up as a range of slaves in exchange for a fair salary.
Slaves such as gardener, secretary, servant, and perhaps the most popular one, pleasure slave.
Historian U.P. Ernest on the origin of the Angel slave industry
To be honest, Dean had kind of thought the auction would be more like the ones he saw on TV, where an auctioneer would display the object and people would yell out their bids. He had been nervous as fuck until Sam had informed him that the Angels had revised that strategy in 1075 when a minor dispute over a beautiful woman had turned into a full-blown feather ripping up in Heaven.
Nowadays the humans stood on display on small pedestals behind elegant velvet ropes and the human auctioneers managed a blind auction. Even better, Sammy had continued even though Dean wasn’t freaking out so much anymore and had lost interest, after the Human Rights Movement of 1807 the humans were able to choose the Angel who got to buy them.
Because the thing was that even though the humans were doing this willingly and would get paid, the HRM wanted the humans to have the right to refuse Angels if they wanted to. Dean thought that sounded a bit mean but considering that he was about to offer himself up as a pleasure slave he was relieved that the Angels had consented to the amendment.
Since the humans got a percentage of the bid, most humans chose the highest bidder anyway and Dean suspected he would do the same. He was after all doing this to get some cash. Why he had chosen to be a pleasure slave of all things still eluded his little brother but come on, who didn’t want to get their freak on with an Angel at some point? And Angels didn’t exactly date humans.
So yeah, Dean’s part-time job as a bartender didn’t pay all his bills and he had maybe been fantasizing about this for a while, why not take the leap and put himself out there, right? He knew people thought he was attractive and besides, the Angels had different tastes than humans, who was to say what they liked? And hell, if there were no takers he could always apply another time or come back and chose another position to sell himself as.
Except that was the thing, right? What if no one wanted him as a pleasure slave?
He shifted nervously where he stood on the pedestal, hands clasped behind his back and chest out, just like the auctioneer had instructed them to stand. There had been a ten minute briefing for the first-timers on what to do and what not to do and Dean had thought it all sounded pretty goddamn basic but as he stood here in the dark room he was getting more and more nervous.
Dean was in the auction house in San José, which was one of the bigger ones. That wasn’t the reason he’d chosen it, though. He’d simply gone there since it was closest to Palo Alto, where he shared a small apartment with his brother Sam, who went to Stanford. It was a good choice for a first time, Dean thought, since the auction house was regarded as one of the better ones on the West Coast. The Angels favored it too, mainly because it was one of the few that were color coded to make it easier for them. This way, if one of them wanted a pleasure slave they would just go straight to the red room instead of sifting through all the humans.
The room was big, like a warehouse, artfully decorated and painted a seductive scarlet red. There was basically no lighting right now, aside from the emergency exit light, but as soon as the auction started every pedestal would be illuminated by a bright light directly above each human. The pedestals stood at about six or seven feet apart and almost everyone was occupied by a human, some nervous and some excited.
Dean wanted to be excited and he had been, during the briefing and when he had gone with the other men to change into the tight underwear that left basically nothing to the imagination. He had gotten compliments from one guy and later two women and he had felt good.
Now he was starting to rethink this, should’ve maybe applied for a gardener position to begin with. Even Sammy had said so. Not that there was anything wrong with being an Angel’s pleasure slave, it was in high prestige, just like any other Angel slave position. But damn, it was bound to be different than a normal job, right?
His whole body jerked when the lights abruptly turned on and the guy to his right winked at him.
Dean just pressed his lips together because he could figure that out for himself, plus the auctioneer had told them not to speak unless spoken to. “The Angels are kind,” the auctioneer had said, “and they will want to hear your voices but in due time”. Angels loved obedience, after all.
Dean straightened his back when the big double-doors opened, and tried not to feel too self-conscious about how perky his nipples were in the cool room. He was attractive, there were plenty of Angels, and the auction would go on the whole day. Someone would choose him.
They had breaks every two hours where the humans could eat, go to the bathroom, and stretch their muscles and the Angels could place their bids with the auctioneer. Four hours and half-way into their day, they were getting back from their second break and Dean had calmed down a little after talking to a couple of veteran slaves who assured him that first-time jitters were common.
A lot of Angels had come and gone and more than one had come back to look at him again, taking care to read the little plate in front of his pedestal where his name and auction house number was printed. It made him preen to think about and that, too, helped him relax as he climbed back onto the pedestal.
He had even recognized some of the Angels and he couldn’t wait to get home to Sammy and tell him that Barachiel, the Archangel of Blessings, had made big eyes when he caught sight of Dean. Barachiel was a reasonably handsome male angel, his wings were a metallic brown and looked sleek compared to the Angel he walked with. Dean didn’t know her name but though her wings were fluffier than Barachiel’s, Dean liked his better. Might be because she had been completely uninterested in Dean but Dean liked Barachiel a bit and had given him a wink, which had made the Archangel grin.
So yeah, beginning of the fourth hour Dean was pretty certain he would have at least one bid in his basket at the end of the day. To be perfectly honest Dean had thought he would receive mostly female Angel bids but secretly he kind of wanted a male Angel. Dean swung both ways and had done so ever since he had figured out how to fuck his hand properly but there was just something about a strong male Angel pinning him down that got Dean’s engine going.
That said, all Angels were more than ten times as strong as the strongest human and even the dainties female Angel would be able to toss Dean around as if he was made out of paper. Their appearance didn’t reflect their powers whatsoever but was merely the form they had been molded into when they were created. An Angel’s powers were determined by the Angelic Choir they belonged to, to which there were nine.
Archangels were the highest ranked and the leaders of the Seraphs, who in turn belonged to the highest Choir, the Seraphim. Most humans knew the names of the Archangels, and to some extent their faces, as they were the ones who dealt the most with humans outside of the slave business. To be honest, Dean couldn’t believe how many Archangels and Seraphs he had seen so far today. He couldn’t wait to get home and tell everyone about this.
Dean had always thought the Angels were kind of cool in that celestial way of theirs, not to mention their wings. Some were bigger than others, some were more ruffled than others, not one having the exact same color or marking as another. The color of the Archangels’ wings were always metallic but even there not one was the same as another.
It was truly a sight now that the auction was in full swing and the room was filled with chatting Angels, some stoic and some prattling on about the humans at display. Dean straightened his back and looked his fill, relaxed now.
“I have to say, you surprised me today, Cassie.”
Dean turned his head minutely at the sound and nearly choked when he saw that it was Gabriel, the Archangel of Messages, who was speaking as he walked beside a black-winged Angel. Goddamn, there were definitely a lot of hot-shot Angels here today. At their next break Dean vowed to ask a veteran slave if that was common in San José or if he had just been lucky.
Damn, that black-winged Angel had a nice voice. Dean forced himself to look straight ahead as the two angels stopped to look at the human to Dean’s right. The auctioneer had told them not to meet the Angels’ eye if not requested and also not to gawk like a moron. Dean understood why but fuck if it wasn’t difficult.
Angels were after all millions of years old warriors of God, forgive Dean if he was a little eager and a lot star-struck.
“Hardly? What do you mean, hardly?”
“It’s not the first time I’ve bought a pleasure slave.”
A really nice voice, Dean reflected absently.
“I just meant since your last one from the States didn’t—” Gabriel cut himself off when the black-winged angel gave him an unimpressed glare. “Fair enough. Guy or gal?”
“I haven’t deci—” they stopped in front of Dean and for a moment Dean couldn’t tear his eyes away from the black-winged Angel’s strikingly blue eyes. They were fucking electric. “Guy.”
Dean blinked and tried not to preen as he turned his eyes to stare passively out over the room.
Gabriel clicked his tongue. “Dean Winchester,” he read out loud. “Looks young, do you think it’s his first time?”
“Possibly,” the other Angel answered in a low rumble.
Dean thought it should feel weird that they talked about him like he wasn’t there when they could just ask him but somehow it felt natural. Plus the auctioneer had said they would do that.
“You are a commodity to them today,” he had said during the briefing. “They will look at you, perhaps speak to you, perhaps ask you to do something minor. There will be no obscene public display of nudity or anything of outright pornographic content but they might ask you to flaunt what you’ve got. You will do so only perfunctory, if they want more they will have to buy you. The Angels know this too, they’re a well-behaved bunch.”
Maybe it shouldn’t be, but the thought of the Angels looking at Dean as live-stock was a turn-on for him. He felt that even more now, with the black-winged Angel’s burning eyes roaming his body and face.
“Well,” Gabriel said after a moment, pulling on the ‘L’. “I’m gonna head over here and look at the ladies.”
“I thought you said you wanted a secretary.”
“Pleasure slaves can be secretaries too,” Gabriel sniffed, his silver wings ruffling as he turned to walk along the row of humans.
It was true what he said and Dean had at first thought about signing up for more than one position. There was really no reason why he couldn’t work as a gardener and still have sex with his Angel Master, except for Dean saying so. And the humans who did two or more tasks got paid more and ranked highest in the biddings, of course. But then Dean was new to this and pleasure slaves got great money as it was.
In essence, he thought, pleasure slaves already did two tasks because being a pleasure slave wasn’t only about sex, it could be about company too. Some Angels preferred to treat the human as a sort of sex service and some kept them almost as house pets. The auctioneer had assured Dean and the rest of the newbies that he would control the prices depending on what the humans agreed to perform.
Before coming to the auction house Dean had had to fill out forms, checking box after endless box marked “willing”, “unwilling”, and “indifferent” and the things he had had to consider ranged from chaste things like pure company to full on BDSM stuff that scared the crap out of him.
Because, let’s be honest, just liking someone’s appearance wasn’t really enough for the Angel to know if they would be able to live out the wants and needs the human was supposed to fill for them. That was what the forms were for and if a human was bought there would even be a Compatibility Meeting between the Angel and the human up in Heaven, just the two of them. It was only after that had gone well that the auction house and human would get paid and the final contracts would be signed.
Dean hadn’t honestly thought there were so many things to consider when he had first hatched the brilliant idea of becoming an Angel slave but damn. He was glad for them, though, because it made him feel safe to know he would always have the opportunity to say no.
Not that that option was on the forefront of his mind right now, not with those blue eyes raking up and down his mostly naked body.
“So, Dean Winchester,” the black-winged Angel said in that low rumble, almost as if he was tasting Dean’s name and fuck if that didn’t feel good. “Is this your first time being a pleasure slave or the first time being a slave at all?”
Dean swallowed to get some goddamn moisture going in his mouth before he looked down at the Angel, feeling strangely demure in his presence.
“First time overall, sir,” he answered honestly and hoped that that wouldn’t turn the Angel off. Looking at him now Dean could tell that he was exactly Dean’s type. For fuck’s sake, he even had the perfect stubble to rub against Dean’s inner thighs. That would burn so good, Dean just knew it.
“That’s good,” the Angel quirked his lips in what Dean took as a smile. “I like that.”
Dean wanted to say something clever about that but felt a little dumbstruck under the Angel’s intense gaze. And the auctioneer had said not to speak unless spoken too and Dean didn’t think an offhand comment like that counted as speaking to. But still, he wanted to look and sound enticing and not only because this Angel was handsome as all hell but because he was the first Angel who had spoken to him at all.
He didn’t really have time to come up with something smart, though, because the Angel gripped the taut velvet rope that acted as a divider between the Angels and the humans and leaned in a bit, his wings ruffling slightly.
“Relax your pose, let me see you.”
Dean swallowed and tried to comply. He shifted on his feet and let his arms hang by his sides, feeling a bit stupid just standing there. The Angel was looking his fill, though, so that felt nice. His wings were in constant motion and Dean knew that the wings relayed some kind of language for the Angels.
Aside from the Angelic language Enochian, Angels communicated partially telepathically and partially with their wings. Much like body language could tell a person what another human was thinking, an Angel’s wings could give him away.
One of the veteran slaves had boasted that he by now was well-acquainted enough with Angel wings that he could understand them pretty well and as Dean watched the charcoal blackness behind this Angel he was inclined to believe the veteran.
“That is good,” the Angel repeated in a murmur. “Turn around. Yes, good, lift your arms, stretch.”
Dean still felt stupid but he did everything the Angel wanted and got praised for it. It was actually starting to feel pretty good and he could feel his cheeks heating as he held back burgeoning arousal because fuck if he was going to get a boner here just because an Angel he didn’t even know the name of was staring at him.
“You are very pretty,” the Angel stated when Dean had turned back around again. “Have you been told that before?”
Dean was definitely blushing now and he hated how easily he did that, like a schoolgirl. It made his freckles stand out too and made him look younger than his 28 years.
“I have,” he swallowed. “Sir.”
“Call the male Angels sir and the female Angels ma’am,” the auctioneer had instructed. It felt insufficient.
“Do you agree?” the Angel quirked his lips again when Dean hesitated to answer. He knew a lot of people had told him he was handsome but he had a hard time thinking about himself objectively.
“I believe beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder,” he mumbled, feeling shy when the Angel’s wings fluffed up suddenly. He didn’t know why they did that and he hoped it wasn’t because of anger.
“Let me see you touch yourself.”
“What?” certainly not touch like jerk off, right? The auctioneer had after all been very specific about obscenities.
The Angel quirked his lips for the third time and Dean was starting to like it. “Your chest and arms. Pretend like you are showering, let me see you use your hands to soap yourself up.”
That was a weird request, right? But okay, if the Angel wanted to see that, then who was Dean to say no? He just blinked once at the Angel, waited for a beat to see if he was kidding or not and then he raised his hands and started to do just as the Angel had asked.
He supposed, as he slowly rubbed his hands down his chest, that this was another way to show off his body. It looked innocent enough at a quick glance but for Dean it felt more intimate, with the Angel’s eyes tracking his hands like that.
And here was the thing, Dean’s nipples had always been pretty sensitive. He liked having them played with during sex and he usually tweaked one while jerking off. So when he showered normally he tried not to touch them too much unless he wanted to wake the beast that was his dick because that fucker could be persistent.
But that would look weird, right? Right. So instead of avoiding them like he usually did he let his palms swipe over them and they were pebbled enough from the chilly room for him to react with a little gasp that he quickly stifled. One glance down at the Angel told him that he had heard and if the way he gripped the velvet rope was anything to go by he liked what he saw.
Yeah, there was no way Dean wouldn’t be aroused enough to not be visible if this continued so he avoided his nipples after that. Up until three weeks ago he had been working part-time as a mechanic during the days he didn’t bartender. It was the loss of that job that had made him turn to the Angel slave business and it was also thanks to that job that his hands were fairly calloused. And normally that was kind of nice but fuck, he could not get a boner right now.
“That’s enough,” the Angel stated then, saving Dean from having to embarrass himself. “Would you please turn around and bend over?”
Fuck yeah, okay. Dean had checked the “willing” box for switching and he was secretly hoping to high Heaven that he would be bottoming for an Angel just like this one and of course that would mean the Angel would want a good look of his ass. Still, just bending over up here on the pedestal where everyone could see felt a little awkward.
And yet he had just pretend-showered for this Angel, he reflected absently as he turned around and bent over, trying to display his ass in the most appealing way. He glanced to the sides and noticed that the guy to his right was looking over at him with obvious interest.
“Very good,” fuck that rumble sounded good. “How bendy are you? Can you touch your toes for me?”
Fuck. If the Angel had just asked, Dean probably would have said no because he didn’t think he was that bendy but the Angel had just gone and added “for me” and Dean just fucking loved to please. Loved it when his partners took pleasure in his willing compliance.
He shifted his stance and managed to poke his toes even though it put strain on his calves.
“Good boy,” the Angel rumbled and Dean had to close his eyes for a moment to compose himself.
Okay, so maybe he had a bit of a dom kink, maybe that was the truth about why he was here. Subbing for an Angel would be the best because they were stronger and more powerful than Dean in every aspect. They had fought against Demons and had lived. Dean wanted to submit but he hadn’t really found a lover that could do that for him, that he could respect enough to give that trust but an Angel was just perfect.
So there, that was Dean’s secret agenda all out in the open all thanks to one blue-eyed, black-winged Angel and Dean didn’t even know his name yet. By God, he hoped he would after today.
When he straightened and turned back the Angel was looking at him as if he knew. As if he could see Dean’s yearning etched in his soul and fuck, Dean wanted that to be true too because there was no way Dean would be able to voice this particular yearning. Oh, he had checked the “willing” box for subbing but that wasn’t really the same thing and judging by the Angel’s intense stare he knew that too.
“Will you do one last thing for me?” Dean would fucking walk out of here with the Angel right now if he asked, contract or no contract. “Sit down at the edge of the pedestal, come closer to me.”
Dean swallowed and complied. They weren’t supposed to get off the pedestals and there would be no Angel-human touching whatsoever but technically Dean was still on the pedestal and the Angel was still a good three feet away.
“Show me,” the Angel said, his voice low and intimate. “Show me you.”
It took a moment for Dean to understand and when he did he glanced down at his crotch and the semi he was sporting now. He shouldn’t, should he? Except… well, he wanted to and the auctioneer had told them that they could quickly flaunt what they had and he had to have been talking about this, right?
He glanced at the dude to his right and again found him openly staring at Dean, hungry eyes glued to Dean’s crotch. That, for some reason, made Dean uneasy and he ducked his head, fisting his hands against his thighs as he glanced shyly up at the Angel.
The Angel took one look at the guy on Dean’s right and then suddenly flared out his wings. Huge, black, double-jointed wings spread out from his back, wider than the Angel was tall by far. He pressed them between the pedestals, effectively using the mass of black feathers to shield Dean from view.
Dean drew a sharp breath and knew from that fucking moment that he definitely had a wing kink. Fuck, he wanted to touch, wanted those feathers to slide over his skin, wanted them to touch his dick.
“Show only me,” the Angel emphasized and Dean gulped, nodding way too eagerly.
They probably didn’t have a lot of time because even though there wasn’t any touching Dean suspected that this was bending the rules a bit and he didn’t want the auction house to get mad at him or the Angel.
So with that in mind he practically yanked his provided underwear down, letting one hand touch his dick and balls to try and show them off as best he could. He knew that Angels were different, they had different desires and needs but fuck, Dean was still a human and like most humans he was fond of his dick and he wanted the Angel to like it too.
His semi bobbed in the air for a moment and the Angel hummed pleasantly.
“Perfect. You are perfect, Dean Winchester.”
“N-nah…” Dean mumbled and tried to tuck himself back in without touching too much because damn if it didn’t feel good when this Angel looked at him like this.
“Perfect,” the Angel repeated and he withdrew his wings as soon as Dean’s dick and balls were secured in his underwear again.
With that he took a step back, looking all prim and proper again as if he hadn’t just been staring at Dean’s junk as if he wanted to eat him alive. He swiped his gaze up and down Dean’s whole body once more before turning and marching back where he had come from.
“Fucking hell, dude,” the guy to Dean’s right said as soon as they were alone and Dean was climbing back on the pedestal again.
“Tell me about it,” Dean mumbled, still feeling pleasantly buzzed.
After that there really was no calming down. Dean’s body was fired up and he needed to jerk off right the fuck now, his mind a jumble of thoughts about the Angel. Who was he? How could Dean find out if the Angel didn’t place a bid? Fuck, what if he didn’t place a bid? He had to, right? After all that, he fucking had to.
No other Angel had even talked to Dean. Not even the ones who had come back to look a second time. The only other one to even react had been Barachiel and all he had done had been staring with wide eyes.
No he had to place a bid and Dean would take it, he didn’t even care if it was low. It was still bound to be more than nothing, which was what he had now.
But, and this made him especially distracted, what if the Angel had liked everything so far but then read Dean’s dossier and decided that their kinks didn’t match up at all? Like, what if the Angel was into scat? Dean was a hard no on that one but he had been pretty generous in other aspects so maybe that would make it enticing enough?
Fuck, Dean was so absorbed in remembering what he had checked “willing” on that he almost missed when Michael, like the Michael, Archangel of Military, stopped in front of Dean and looked at him with contemplation.
And shit, Dean was still sporting that goddamn semi and of course Michael noticed and stared hard at it. His eyes weren’t as pleasantly intense as the other Angel, though, and Dean almost squirmed on the spot, wanting to turn away.
“You. Turn around,” Michael said in a commanding tone and it should make Dean want to submit, he thought, but nope, being submissive wasn’t as easy as that and he didn’t want to be, at all.
That tone reminded Dean of how his father had spoken to him when he was still alive and it was a wide stretch between a good dom being commanding and how his old marine of a father had bossed him around.
Still, he did as he was told and turned around slowly, hoping that that would be it and for once someone was listening because Michael seemed satisfied, or perhaps he had found Dean to be lacking, because he walked away shortly after without saying another word.
“You’re popular,” the guy to Dean’s right said when they were relatively alone again and Dean just shrugged.
“Guess we’ll see about that when the auction’s actually over.”
Turned out Dean was very popular. Over a period of eight hours he had raked in almost fifteen bids and the auctioneer had told him that he should be proud about that number. Dean felt a bit stunned, to be honest. Especially since he had feared he wouldn’t get a single one.
The auctioneer gave Dean files to take home with him, containing information about every Angel that had placed a bid, complete with the actual number and a copy of forms similar to the ones Dean had filled out. Included was also a short bio on the Angel, a photo, and a short description of what they were looking for.
The last part ranged from simple company, sounding almost as if Dean was expected to sit on a pillow like an expensive show pet, to sex slave complete with a list of varying kinks. The auctioneer told him he had two days to decide so he took everything home and dutifully read through every file.
But only after he had hastily rifled through them in search of that black-winged Angel.
And to Dean’s immense pleasure he was there. The second highest bidder, outbid only by Michael, much to Dean’s surprise.
It turned out the Angel was named Castiel, Seraph of Solitude, and he wanted a human for both company and sex. And fucking yes, Dean didn’t even have to think about this decision after reading through Castiel’s kinks.
Highest bidder or not, Dean wanted this Angel and the sum was hefty enough that he didn’t have to feel bad about it either. And really, who would when they would have someone like Castiel fucking them? Certainly not Dean.