Dean Winchester had been on the streets for as long as he could remember. No one gave a shit that his parents died right in front of him; no one noticed the small boy in the corner too scared to even cry when they came to drag the bodies out. He was 7 when it happened. He died in that room too, although he was the only one that knew it. Something inside of him snapped that day, snapped so fucking thoroughly that nothing would ever fix it. Well, nothing but blood, anyway.
The only time the voices stopped was when his hands were drenched in perfect crimson. It didn’t matter if it was before, during or after the moment when his latest victim finally lost their will to keep fighting, blood was blood. Power... was power. He lived for the moment he broke someone the way he was once broken. He got off on it. He needed that moment to breathe.
He didn’t care who he killed. His father had taught him enough about the overlays between hunting and law enforcement in his first few formative years that Dean was an expert at not only choosing victims that wouldn’t be missed, but covering his tracks so thoroughly that if he waited long enough, not even he would remember he’d done it.
The one thing he didn’t learn from his dearly departed father, however, was his uncontrollable urge to play with his food. The only thing nearly as good as being the force that drove the light from someone’s eyes was sex, and when he combined the two... it was his own personal Hell on earth. The joke was on the Sunday school teachers Dean never had though, he liked the fire. He thrived in the chaos and misery and screaming. The sounds, god how he loved the sounds his victims made. His cock could harden in an instant just thinking about the desperate little whimpers and pleas that he was all too capable of drawing out of them not once but twice. The thought of watching his come leak down the thighs of a man whose throat had just been slit was one of the only things that helped him get out of bed in the morning.
Yes, part of Dean Winchester died when he was 7 years old. Too bad it happened to be the only part of him with any shred of humanity. But the world would know soon enough, he was bound to slip up at some point and he’d be forced to face the families of the countless men and women he’d already taken from this world. But that day wasn’t going to be today.
His eyes traveled across the bar and fixated on a young woman sitting by herself. He’d been stalking her for two weeks now, and she was always alone. The only time he’d allowed himself to speak to her he’d found out she’d just moved to Lawrence, Kansas, and her family was still back east. She had no friends, she worked from home... this was about as easy of a target as Dean had ever found. He preferred men, but... she would have to do. He slid off the barstool and caught her gaze. He could tell she recognized him by the way her lips turned up in a smile, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d sound prettier gagging on his cock, or on her own blood. Guess he’d just have to find out. He motioned for her to join him outside after making sure no one else would see the movement. She hesitated for a moment, but a quick sweep of her eyes over his broad shoulders and chiseled jaw had her asking the bartender to close her tab. He was out waiting by his car when she finally came out.
He’d noticed the security camera when he pulled in and had made a point to park on its other side. No one would see her get in, the cameras would catch nothing. No one noticed either of them leaving. They exchanged a few casual pleasantries when she’d walked willingly into his trap, but he cut her words off quickly with a kiss that would make an angel fall from Heaven. It didn’t take much longer to get her into his car, and that was the last anyone would see of her until they discovered her body over 100 miles away two weeks later.
Turned out, the answer to his question about her was simple: she sounded better gagging on both.
Dean drove through a couple of states with his hand out the window and the speakers of his 1967 Chevy Impala blaring Led Zeppelin. He was free, he was crazy, he was a monster. And he loved it.
Castiel didn’t have family. Well, technically that isn’t true, he had a family. A very religious family that disowned him after he was fucked by his high school math teacher for an A. It wasn’t his first time, definitely not his last but it was the time they were caught.
By 17 he was on the streets. Even his six brothers and sisters hated their gay brother, but church did that to people. Cas quickly found someone to stay with, yeah he was older and slightly abusive, but he fed him and kept him off the streets and after while, Cas couldn’t get off without a little violence.
He got his first job at a gay club when he was nineteen. He lied about his age of course but fucked his way out of that problem too. It seemed to always make problems go away, fucking. So, why not use that? It felt good and he got what he wanted, and pretty soon, he didn’t need any mundane job. Blowjobs paid his studio apartment’s rent. Fucking paid for his food.
Every so often, a passing thought would cross his mind. He would realize how wrong this is, how dangerous. But he always used protection... okay not always. Not when it wasn’t for money. When he was picked up by a random hot guy and fucked in their car for the hell of it, he’d forget sometimes. But he’d always make his way to Planned Parenthood soon after and so far, he’s only caught the curable ones. He thinks it’s worked out in his favor.
It had been a few weeks since Cas fucked someone he wanted to fuck. Yeah, he’d fucked or sucked almost every day to survive but that was different. Cas wanted some fun.
Dean pulled into a busy city in South Dakota and went to work, securing himself a no-questions-asked cash only motel room and scoping out the surrounding area. He looked for bars, clubs, anything that would have the kinds of people he was looking for with minimal security. He clocked a couple of places and then kept driving. Motel rooms weren’t always the best place for the kinds of murders Dean committed - the walls were too thin and the stains were too hard to remove from the carpet. He preferred secluded warehouses or old churches. Especially old churches. Something about sending up a big fuck you to god by sodomizing and then brutally killing one of his little sheep in His house seemed like poetic fucking justice for what that asshole had let happen to his parents. Let him watch. Hell, maybe god was just as fucked up as he was. Maybe he got off on it too. It happened that he was in luck - he found both a warehouse and a church that looked like they’d serve him nicely. If he played his cards right, he could stick around here for a couple of months. No more than a handful of victims, but he also wasn’t above keeping one to play with for awhile if they could stand the constant bloodletting. After being satisfied that he found the right hunting grounds and stage for his own personal grand finales, he stopped at a perfectly normal diner and had a perfectly normal meal. He sat in silence, picking at his French fries as he imagined his little twink of a waiter hanging from his ceiling with blood dripping from his wrists, his ass at the perfect height for Dean to be able to use him while licking the blood right from his skin. He wouldn’t, though, not with this one. This one would be missed. He’d have to wait until he found someone else that would look just as pretty all strung up for him like an offering.
His dick hardened under the table and he dug his palm into the head until it passed. He finished eating and paid, tipping the lucky little twink before getting back in his car and heading to the first bar on his list. He walked in and sat down, avoiding eye contact with the bartender as he ordered a whiskey and scanned the crowd for his next conquest.
Cas walked in the bar dressed in his nicest tight jeans, a Zeppelin tee and a black leather jacket. He considered dressing like a twink and letting the first hot guy take him out back and fuck his prepped hole, but he wanted something different tonight. Something he hadn’t gotten in a while. He wanted to be taken and fucked so hard he forgot his name as a big palm choked him until he came so hard he saw stars. He wanted whoever picked him up to look at his outfit and think this was going to be hard. He wanted them to feel as though they had to work to fuck him and when you dress like a twink well, you might as well bend over the first table and let anyone have a go.
Cas spotted a man in a red flannel across the bar and couldn’t help but wonder what was in his jeans. He felt a thrill at the thought of his hands pulling his hair or scratching him until he bled. Fuck… Cas needed to get fucked by this one. He wondered how he could get the man to notice him without being too obvious.
He had no idea that the man had already spotted him.
Dean was an expert at seeing without really looking and when a dark haired man with a leather jacket walks in by themselves, you pay attention. He spent some time flirting with his drink, letting his eyes wander aimlessly but never quite landing on the man. He waited to see if anyone joined him, but they didn’t. He didn’t want to let his hopes get too high so early, he was going to need to remind himself to keep his normal pace. Catch and release a couple of times; learn his habits and his story before he could pounce. Chances were good he’d find something that made him an invalid candidate in the first five minutes, but hell. He’d be lying to himself if he said he didn’t want to see how bad this one squirmed while getting fucked dry and then hung up on meathooks by his fucking shoulderblades. He looked like a screamer. He eventually stood, setting his empty glass down on the counter and quickly brushing the glass clean. He made his way toward the jukebox, stopping right behind the man long enough to grip his hip hard and growl into his ear from behind. “Nice t-shirt.” He pulled his hand away with a rough jerk and then continued to the jukebox, taking his time choosing a song.
Cas had seen the man stand and worried he was leaving but then noticed he was heading towards him... wait, no, not him... the jukebox.
He had turned towards his drink again just as he’d felt the firm grip on his hip and fucking melted at the man’s growl. What did he just say? Doesn’t matter because he’s perfect. He won't know what hit him, Cas thought to himself. It never once occurred to him that he, was in fact the prey here.
Cas turned around and watched the man select a song, and he made sure his legs were open wide and inviting when the man turned back around. When he finally pivoted, Cas tilted his head slightly and looked the man up and down in an obvious manner. I wonder if we’ll even make it past the parking lot?
Under normal circumstances, Dean would have walked away right there. He’d have sat back down in his seat and waited for someone else, or moved to a different bar entirely. He hated brats. While he appreciated a struggle sometimes, he preferred that to be when he was trying to end a life, not when he was trying to get off. And from the look on the man’s face when he turned around and the way his legs were spread like a whore begging for anyone’s cock, he was a brat. A brat that didn’t give a shit who he went home with, which was usually a deal breaker for Dean, too. Yeah, wanting to be desired before he raped and murdered someone was a little strange, but hey, even serial killers had their quirks. But... this was not a normal circumstance, because this was not a normal man.
He was beautiful in a way things in Dean’s life never were. It wasn’t blood or gore or pain that made him hold Dean’s attention, it was his face. The eyes he could swear were bluer than oceans even in the low light, still several feet away. The defiance in his eyes that in this case, made Dean want to break him slowly. He closed the distance between them and snapped the man's legs together, turning his entire body back toward the bar. Dean’s broad hand gripped the back of the man’s neck and squeezed as he leaned in to crowd his space. “You present yourself like a whore, you get fucked like a whore. Do you have any respect for yourself, or is there nothing left at all for me to take from you?”
Cas laughed out loud and struggled against the man’s grip only a second to see how sound it was, and fuck ... an earthquake wouldn’t loosen this iron grip.
Cas hardened in his jeans, and the thought of this man fucking him like a whore made his cock ache. “How about you fucking find out big boy?” He challenged, not realizing what he was doing to a man who was so used to being in charge.
Dean’s answering laugh was dark and full of promise. He stretched his fingers further around the sides of Cas’ throat and squeezed a little harder. “Or, you could start with your name. If you want me to bend you over and split your used up little ass in half, I will... but you’re going to work for it. Entertain me first.” He released his neck and sat down, wiggling two fingers at the bartender without taking his predatory gaze off of Castiel.
Cas had a passing thought that this dude was looking for a boyfriend and that was not something Cas wanted. “Trying to get married or something?” He said the words with an amused look on his face that wavered slightly at the gleam in this man’s eyes. Should I even be honest? “Name’s Castiel. You?”
Dean chuckled and brought his glass to his mouth. “Not hardly. I’m trying to decide if you’re worth the effort it would take to break you or not. I don’t fuck brats, I prefer my toys to be... pliable.” He finally takes the sip and sets the glass down.
Castiel leaned in and stared into Dean’s eyes. “You think you can break me?” He smiled and sat up straighter, their eyes still locked. “No one could break me, handsome. How can you break something that was never fully together?”
Dean was momentarily caught off guard by the stir in his jeans. He blamed it on the eyes, there was a fire in those eyes that he couldn’t fucking wait to put out. He brought his hand up to Cas’ face. “You know you won’t get a better offer than mine tonight, but you’ll need to do what you’re told.” He slid his thumb into Cas’ mouth and tilted his own head back in a challenge, his eyes on fire.
Cas nodded without realizing and then internally cursed himself. What the fuck was that? Is this guy a fucking wizard or something? Cas had never just nodded after being told what to do. It was why his ass has been kicked more times than he can count. But something about this asshole had Castiel needing to know what he was talking about. He secretly hoped he was the one who could finally break him.
Cas brought his drink to his lips after Dean removed his salty, calloused thumb and filled the void with whiskey.
Dean slid his hand up Cas’ thigh and squeezed hard. “Good boy. Now humor me. Tell me something about yourself while I finish this drink, I don’t like anything to go to waste.” He took another small sip.
Castiel frowned and took another drink. “Alright… I’m named after an angel, though I'm anything but. Been on my own since I was 17 because I loved cock and I’m really just passing through. You haven’t told me your name, what am I supposed to call you?” Cas gave Dean what he thought was little to no information about him but really, it was more than enough.
Dean had to fight the urge to take him right then, he was literally too good to be true. He kept his face neutral and a single eyebrow raised. “You’re supposed to call me sir. Master, dom... majesty. Pretty much anything but ‘daddy’. That’s a good way to get your throat fucked so raw you’ll never speak again.” It was an empty threat... once he was done with Cas, he wouldn’t be speaking ever again, regardless.
Cas hesitated a second and finished off his drink. He’d never called anyone sir before but it was best out of those options… or he could walk away and find someone easier. Someone that would give Cas all the power. Because this man wasn’t about to give Cas any. He gave the man another once-over and... well, Castiel had always been a curious one. “Okay, Sir. Ready to head out?” No one had ever really wanted to hang out before they fucked, it was just what was expected, why draw it out? “My studio is two blocks from here.”
Dean huffed quietly because Cas was apparently correct, he didn’t need to be broken, he already was. Dean had just needed to nudge him a little bit. He honestly wasn’t sure if he was happy or disappointed with that, but it didn’t matter. A hole was a hole and it looked like plenty of blood resided in that delicious fucking meat suit, so he nodded once, finishing his drink. “Not your place. Mine.”
Something in Cas’ gut told him not to go. But he shrugged it off, because maybe Cas wanted something to happen. Maybe this... was exactly what Castiel wanted. “Alright then, lead the way… Sir.”
Dean stood up, tossing some cash on the bar and walking outside. When Cas followed, Dean turned to him, because there was no way he could take Cas back to the motel... but Cas’ place was an uncontrolled environment and too many things could go wrong. There might be cameras he doesn’t know about, or nosey neighbors or both. Trying to drag a body out of an apartment building unseen would be a nightmare. “Slight change of plans. You said you’re named after an angel, yeah? You ever been bent over an alter?”
For some reason, that line sent a shiver up Cas’ spine and he instantly had to have it. “No, Sir. How about you show me what that’s like?” Cas stepped forward, more into Dean’s space. “I’d ride you in your car, handsome. I’m not picky.”
Dean grinned a little wickedly, this one was going to be too easy. Like luring a moth to a flame, only to have the flame burn him up from the inside out. He gripped Cas’ chin and tipped his head back, inspecting Cas’ neck and jaw. “It’s cute you think I’d let you in my car. She’s pristine, and something tells me you’re anything, but.” He turned away and headed towards the driver’s side of his car. “Follow me.”
Castiel frowned and grabbed Dean’s arm, pushing him slightly against a car he didn’t look twice at. “You’re telling me I'm not good enough for your precious, pristine car?” He didn’t know why it offended him, he normally wouldn’t give two shits, but if he was going to listen to this asshole, he better at least not degrade him. “You want me to follow you, call you sir, let you bend me over wherever you please? Then don’t treat me like I’m some corner slut. Because if that’s what you want, it’ll be 100 bucks and I will not call you sir.”
Dean smiled a little despite himself. There’s that fire. He gently removed himself from Cas’ grip and tilted his head curiously. “You presented yourself like a corner slut. One of the first pieces of information you offered about yourself was how much you loved cock.” His eyes hungrily traveled over Cas’ body. “And then you couldn’t wait to get out of that bar to somewhere secluded enough that you could allow a complete stranger to fuck the life out of you.” He smirked because that’s honestly what he was planning on doing. “And now you’re complaining about being treated in exactly the manner you’ve presented yourself. Seems to me you don’t know what you want, Castiel. Maybe I should come back once you do?”
Castiel was annoyed. Fuck this guy for being right. Sometimes it was easy to confuse business and pleasure. Most dudes would fuck Cas in their car and go on with their lives, regardless of how he presented himself. This one was so handsome that Cas was willing to play his game, as long as he got that dick in the end. But now... he’d rather find someone easier or someone who was going to at least pay him. This was too much work to do for free. “Maybe you should... Sir.” Cas shoved Dean off and turned to walk further into the parking lot.
Dean considered skipping the consensual part of this evening entirely and just taking Castiel, but a car pulled into the lot and the presence of witnesses stalled him. He wanted Cas, wanted to see exactly how much someone that clearly broken could take before shattering completely. He wanted to force him to keep those blue eyes open as the breath slowly left his body and his blood washed the voices away, but... maybe this wasn’t the right time. Maybe it wasn’t the right place. Everything he did was so meticulously planned and Castiel was forcing him to reconfigure the rules at every turn. No, this wasn’t worth it. No one was. And yet... “Castiel!” His voice echoed through the parking lot the second the newcomers were inside.
Cas froze and turned back toward Dean with a curious look on his face. He hesitated, but ultimately walked back over and stopped inches from Dean. “Yes?” He cocked his head.
Dean’s breathing quickened minutely as he considered his options, drawing out the silence and what little bit of space there was between them. He’d been charismatic before, charming even. He knew how to say whatever he needed to in order to get what he wanted, it was how he’d gotten so far without making mistakes. So he’d misjudged this one, it didn’t mean he couldn’t see it though to the end. He allowed his eyes to soften as he stared at Castiel’s mouth, the picture perfect image of someone that’s looking at someone truly beautiful. Even his voice was softer, but the tone sent a bitter chill up his own spine, this isn’t who he is. “Come with me.”
Castiel was too invested at this point to say no. He thought about how this dude had better be fucking amazing in bed if he was going to be worth all of this... but Cas had to at least find out. So, he followed.