Dean has always been intrigued by death.
Ever since Sammy was found murdered in an alleyway - his shirt stained a dark crimson from where he was stabbed in the back, his eyes dulled - death has been one of the only constants Dean has had. It didn’t matter if he lost his drive in life, if he cut ties with people and left everything, if he broke on the inside and became the hunter that he is today.
All that did count to Dean was settling the score.
He wanted people to hurt just like he did - to feel just how much agony it is to find that the one person who was your everything has gotten sliced and diced - that your everything somehow and suddenly became a nothing, all within an instant. He wanted people to know how angry he was - how broken he was both mentally and physically - how each and every single shovel’s worth of dirt that was spilled over Sammy’s casket, one that they’d had to keep closed during the whole service, made him flinch as they buried his dead, baby brother.
Sammy was supposed to be somebody. Sammy was supposed outlive him. In general, Sammy was just supposed to live.
But he wasn’t - isn’t - now, and that makes Dean a very vindictive, bitter monster, and he won’t ever be satisfied with any kill because it will never bring little Sammy back.
But this right here, with how Cas is pressing him roughly into the hood of his baby and how a blade threatens to slice open his skin - to end a long suffering that Dean has endured since Sammy ... it definitely comes close to sating that persistent ache in Dean.
“You’re perfect,” Cas hisses from behind Dean, and he can hear the man undoing his belt buckle somewhat hastily, “and you’re mine.”
“Only yours,” Dean moans, throwing his head backwards and curving his spine to the point of pain so he can showcase what Cas can take and keep, “Only ever yours.”
The knife somewhat falters at Dean’s neck, “I’ll admit, I thought about killing you- about gutting you like a pig and leaving your corpse to rot, but this- ...” Cas trails off as he yanks Dean’s jeans down until they're piled around his ankles, and he makes a small noise of appreciation before continuing, “This is too good to pass up.”
Dean groans, letting his head rest against the Impala’s hood as he feels Cas snake his boxers off next, “Don’t care either way, Cas. Just do whatever you want to me.”
That sets something off in the man, going by the bruising grip he applies to the jut of Dean’s exposed hip bones.
“Oh, I plan to, Dean. From now on, that’s what is always going to happen,” Dean can hear Cas spitting onto his fingers then, and he jolts when he feels a digit trace against his entrance, “I’m going to have my way with you whenever and however I want.”
“Yes, Cas, please,” Dean whines, and he pushes back against Cas’ fingers as they slip into him without warning.
“You’re gonna take it, just like you are now, and you’re going to give me your body in every. single. way.”
Dean moans, and he gasps a needy sound as Cas crooks his fingers harshly - assaulting that sweet spot inside of him as a wordless statement of ownership and power. That it was now his to use - that Dean was now his to use - and it was perfect.
“You’re so nice and tight, Dean,” Cas hisses into his ear, his tongue lapping at the shell of it when he pauses to inhale, “Tell me, Dean, am I the first to touch you here?”
Dean shakes his head jerkily, “N-No, you’re not.”
Cas stills, “Who else.”
It wasn’t even a question, but the way that it was stated - ordered, practically - made Dean shiver as his eyes fluttered shut.
“There was a guy, in high school. We h-had a math class together sophomore and junior year. He f-fingered me in the bathroom before class started once.”
Cas still hadn’t moved a fraction, his body like stone against Dean’s, “Anything else?”
Dean swallows roughly, “W-We made out a few times, but that was it. He never did anything else but those two t-things.”
“Dean, if you’re lying to me ...” Cas purposely trails off, using the knife to accentuate the blanks.
“What if I am?” Dean taunts, even though he really was telling the truth, “What would you d-do to me then, Cas?”
The knife presses roughly into Dean’s throat, “I think you can take a stab at it.”
Dean remains silent.
“Were you interested in this boy?”
“Not really,” Dean murmurs, leaning into the blade as it lets up a little, trying to make up for the lost pressure, “Just thought he was hot.”
Cas hummed angrily from behind Dean, “What was his name?”
That makes Dean turn his head to glance at Cas over his shoulder, “Are you going to kill him?”
“I might,” Cas hisses lowly, “After all, he did touch what is mine.”
There’s a small pause.
“Can I help you do it?”
“This is why I’m keeping you,” Cas grits out, and without warning, his shoves his way into Dean, making him yell out from the sensation.
“Cas,” Dean groans, and his hands come forward to scrape uselessly at the Impala’s sleek metal.
A hand ghosts down from Dean’s shoulder to the small dip in the middle of his lower back, and he can’t help but shiver as that hand moves up the hem of his shirt expose more skin. Fingertips trace over the subtle curves of Dean’s muscles, making Dean mewl lowly as his mouth opens to pant. From behind him, Dean can hear this appreciative humming coming from Cas, and the man seems to be quite happy with touching Dean’s form.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, a small hiss seeping into his words, “all spread out like this, just taking me in so well. I didn’t even really have to prep you, Dean. It’s like you were already loose and ready for me.”
Dean inhales roughly, “I have a lot of free time on my hands, and I have a lot of my hand up in my ass,” he jokes.
Cas’ breath stalls, and his voice sounds strained, “Do you finger yourself often, Dean?”
“Pretty much every day,” he gleefully admits as Cas’ hips jerk harshly forward, making him groan a little as he keeps speaking, “It’s all I like to do when I’m not slitting someone’s throat.”
That makes Cas moan, “Dean, fuck-”
“I thought that’s what we were doing, but now we’re just having some casual conversation.”
The knife, which had been somewhat drifting away from Dean, is suddenly right against his pulse point, and Cas’ words - low, dark - are growled right into Dean’s ear, “You like to taunt me, don’t you?”
Dean smiles as he leans back into the man, “You’re just now noticing?”
Cas nips roughly at Dean’s nape, “No, but that doesn’t change the fact that I like it nonetheless.”
Dean hums, “Well, you’re gonna have to show me how much you like it, Cas,” he giggles somewhat playfully as he rolls his hips back down onto Cas’ stilled member, “because I’m not going to do all the work by myself.”
The man’s hips jerk forward into Dean, making them both moan lewdly as Cas presses harder into and against Dean. The hood of the Impala is pressed tightly against Dean’s chest, making his ribs ache faintly as Cas practically drapes him with force.
“What have I told you about your mouth, Dean?”
“That you like it too,” he whines, trying to gain momentum, but finding that he can’t, “Come on, Cas, just move already-”
“I think it’s time we set up ground rules.”
Dean pouts, turning his head a little to glare softly at Cas, “What happened to fucking me?”
“Dean,” Cas warns, and his eyes darken ever so slightly, “I could always change my mind about this.”
“And that’s supposed to make me stop?” Dean scowls, “I told you, Cas, I don’t care if you murder me. I thought we already discussed this.”
Cas stares at Dean until he averts his gaze. Then, once his dominance over Dean - over the body he has pinned underneath his own - has been obviously established, he decides to remind Dean of his newly acquired status.
“Dean, I told you how this is going to work. You’re mine now, and that means I’m always going to do what I want to you,” the knife purposefully nicks the protruding edge Dean’s collarbone, the fine sting of the freshly split skin making Dean harden a little more and clench around Cas, “That means if I want you to stop mouthing off to me, you stop.”
Dean whines, the sound high and needy in his throat, and he tries to push back against Cas. Still, the man remains motionless inside of him, leaving Dean’s ass throbbing with anticipation as his nerves seek the sensations he’s being denied currently. Cas doesn’t seem to be as flustered as Dean is about the lack of movement - in fact, he seems tickled pink with how desperate Dean is to get him rocking in and out of him again.
“You follow my instructions to the letter, and you don’t ever tell me no when I request something,” Cas takes the blade from Dean’s neck, and then moves it down to Dean’s collar, where the tingle of it passing over Dean’s skin causes goosebumps to rise and prickle his flesh, “Now, Dean, since I’ve made my point in the most peaceful way possible, I expect you to obey. I don’t think I have to explain what I’ll do to you if you don’t.”
Dean’s throat constricts a little as he swallows, “W-What am I allowed to do now?”
Cas doesn’t seem to be angered by Dean’s inquisitiveness - probably won’t be when Dean is asking how to be a good, little fuck toy - going by the small thrust his hips give as a reward for Dean’s willingness to please him, “You can beg, scream, or make any other noises of pleasure you want. Any volume will suffice, but I do recommend on not being too loud, so no one catches on to what we have been and are doing. After all, we aren’t the most innocent of souls, now are we? As for the sass-” Dean hisses quietly as the tip of the blade presses down into his shoulder just enough to where the pressure is painful, but it doesn’t pierce the skin, “maybe you should learn to bite your tongue on that one.”
A pleased hum escapes Cas, probably because he can see how Dean is shuddering underneath him, and he soothes his other hand up and down the slopes of Dean’s back and hips leisurely, “I would like to see you submit to me as often as you can.”
Dean chances a glance over his shoulder to the man behind him, “How do I do that, Cas?”
“Baring your neck or your belly to me,” Cas explains as his fingertips trail over the areas in question, somewhat lingering on them as they pass along, “positioning yourself for me without instruction, breaking eye contact with me, vocal expression, even. As long as you remind me and yourself of who’s in charge, you won’t have to worry, Dean.”
Dean’s somewhat hesitant gaze meets Cas’, only to find that most of that electric blue has been banished away by an expanded pupil - dark, voiding - that locks onto Dean hungrily. Cas’ licks his lips, and Dean finds himself internally preening at the attention.
For the first time since Sammy, Dean feels like that vulnerability he has felt since then is somewhat glorified here - like it’s meant to be a fixture inside of Dean, not a parasitic feeling that, ironically, weakens him. It’s accepted here, and Dean feels as though it’s nothing to be ashamed about anymore.
At least with Cas it isn’t.
Dean’s eyes linger on Cas’ for a few more milliseconds, and he finds his veins thrumming when he remembers Cas’ previous request. Without really thinking about it, Dean drops his gaze down, and stretches out his neck to Cas as he had mentioned earlier.
“That’s it, Dean,” Cas praises, his words filled with pride and hunger as he comes closer, “You’re already doing so well.”
Dean bites back his reply, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip roughly as he feels Cas lean into him.
“Keep it bared now, Dean,” the man murmurs, licking up against the column of flesh as Dean quivers underneath him, “I want to be able to get a good taste of you.”
Without warning or notice, Cas takes Dean’s blade and cuts lightly into the skin, making Dean moan loudly and practically go limp.
Cas hums happily, lapping at the wound on Dean’s neck heatedly, “You do taste as good as you look.”
Dean groans, his cock throbbing almost painfully as Cas mouths hungrily at his bleeding throat. He presses back into the man, keening as he does so.
“You make such beautiful noises, Dean,” Cas praises, rutting against Dean much like a dog would to another - hips almost uncoordinated, struggling to keep a rhythm as he mounted Dean.
Dean just pants against the car hood, mewling occasionally as Cas drapes over him - tastes him; touches him.
Cas thrusts forward, hitting Dean’s prostate in the process and making him cry out loudly. His hands scramble for something to hold onto along his baby’s hood as Cas pounds into him relentlessly then.
“C-Cas,” Dean moans.
“You asked for this, Dean, didn’t you? You told me to pick for you, and so I did,” Cas grits out, “Can your ass not keep up with your mouth?”
Dean nearly screams when Cas presses his member roughly against his prostate, making the world sharpen and blur around Dean with pain and pleasure. Instead, Dean wails a cry of enjoyment, and his eyes flutter closed as he arches his back into Cas.
“You look beautiful and perfect like this, Dean, just taking my cock and loving it like there’s nothing else for you to do- as if you want nothing else.”
Dean has to rest his forehead against the Impala’s hood, then, his breath rushing in and out of him much like Cas’ member as it pounds in and out of him almost brutally. His ass stings, and his hole screams in protest at the treatment - but Dean loves it, and he couldn’t dream of having Cas fuck him any other way.
So carnal; so destructive.
“K-Keep goin’, Cas,” Dean begs, his voice scratchy from his numerous, brash voicings of pleasure.
“I don’t think I could stop now even if I wanted to, Dean. Your ass, it’s just- it’s perfect, Dean.”
Dean barely manages to look over his shoulder, his muscles shaking with exhaustion and strain as Dean makes eye contact with Cas, “How so?”
“You’re just so tight, Dean. So tight and hot and-” Cas groans, his eyes rolling back into his head from what he must be feeling at the moment, “it’s practically divine.”
“Nice to know my ass is heavenly, Cas,” Dean pants, leaning back onto the car fully now that Cas has officially turned his knees into putty.
Cas drapes himself over Dean again, and he hisses hotly into Dean’s ear, punctuating each word with a swipe of tongue against Dean’s lobe, “Once we’re done here, Dean, you know that things are going to change for you, right?”
Dean nods softly, moaning and stretching his neck out for Cas as the man moves to mouth at his throat, “I w-would imagine so.”
“From now on, you’re not allowed to let anyone else touch you. I don’t care if they flatter you, or if you want some fun before a kill. You are not to let someone else but me get to pleasure you like this.”
Dean mewls, bowing his back a little as Cas manages to embed himself inside deeper than before.
“You are mine, Dean, and no one else’s. I don’t care if you somehow lose your mind and settle down with some bland, average person. You can hide behind your laced curtains, your minivan, or your thirty-year mortgage, but that won’t ever change the fact that I own you, Dean. Forever and always.”
Dean moans and pushes back against Cas as he comes, making Cas practically growl in response.
“Hm, I spoke too soon. You look the best when you’re coming,” Cas purrs into Dean’s neck, murmuring other nothings into it as he too seems to get lost in sensation.
It doesn’t take Cas too long, and after a few harsh thrusts, Cas is coming inside of Dean, making him feel sticky and sloppy as the man pulls out of him just as quickly as he had entered.
“While I would like to stay, Dean, there is some unfinished business I must attend to-”
“Cas?” Dean pivots to see Cas pulling his dress pants up to buckle them up once more, “You’re leaving?”
Cas smiles almost, but his face does carry some solemness about it, “Yes, Dean, I’m afraid so. I have a schedule- an agenda, so to speak. If I don’t stick to it, bad things happen, Dean. Very, very, bad things.”
Dean quickly pulls his jeans up loosely around his hips, not even wincing as his ass protests to the movement completely, “But, Cas, I thought you and I were gonna stick through it together now...”
“Now there’s a thought,” Cas comes forward, kissing Dean’s forehead tenderly - a complete contrast as to how he just fucked Dean, “But I can’t stay, Dean. There are people I have a target on, and I will make sure that I follow through on this list of mine.”
“I told you, I have an agenda. Unlike you and most other killers, I target specific people based on how I think they’ll react when I murder them. I guess it’s what I itch for. Just the way that they look at me, pleading for their life or that I should let them go. I enjoy the ones that fight back the most. The sight of their fire leaving their eyes is like a drug to me.”
Dean smiles a little, “So you itch for control.”
Cas returns the expression, but his is stretching his lips in a darker, more widely manner, “Yes. I want it in all things, whether it be my victims, or-” Cas slinks up to Dean, taking a finger and tilting Dean’s head until he’s looking directly up into his eyes and nothing else, “my toys.”
Dean shivers a little, averting his gaze like Cas had mentioned earlier, which earned him a small chuckle from the man.
“Oh, you do learn and comply rather quickly, Dean. It’s probably what I admire so much about you ... how you just let me take control of you so easily.”
“I- I’ve never felt like this before,” Dean admits, his voice quiet and his gaze still refusing to meet Cas’ as he speaks, “I usually take the reigns.”
Cas brushes Dean’s cheekbone reverently, “Hm, is that so, Dean?”
“Y-Yeah,” Dean stutters, his skin heating as Cas’ fingertips ghost over it, “Most of the time I just single someone out, hunt them down, kill ‘em, and leave just like I came.”
“A vagrant serial killer,” Cas hums a laugh, “I do like the sound of that.”
Dean remains silent, but he does close his eyes as he feels Cas begin to suckle at his neck.
The conversation lapses for a few moments, but Dean fills in the absence of words with the presence of moans and other little noises as Cas begins to suck dark marks onto his throat. He leaves several, making sure that each and every single one is as purple as he can get it to become, leaving Dean’s neck throbbing with irritation and want as the man pops his mouth away from Dean’s skin.
“You look absolutely stunning when you’re all marked up, Dean,” he murmurs in what seems like wonder, his fingers gracing over his work as Dean tilts his neck back for Cas to observe the markings settling into his flesh.
“M-More, Cas, please,” Dean begs.
The plea makes the older man chuckles, “While I want to comply, Dean, I’m afraid that time is not on my side. I need to get back to get ready for work as soon as possible.”
“You have a job?”
“An identity, I suppose. All fake. All lies. It’s only so most people believe I’m just an innocent man trying to meander his way about the maze of life, which is so far from the actual truth.”
Dean smirks softly, “Is it exciting? Getting to play people like that?”
Cas’ eyes darken a little, his pupil expanding as his voice grows gruffer - as if Dean is turning him on with his questions, “It has its moments, and its struggles. Sometimes, it is fun to be considered anything but a threat, but it is also taxing whenever you want to slit your coworker’s throat open if you hear her talk about her Persian cat one more time.”
“Maybe I could help with that, Cas,” Dean murmurs, slinking back up into Cas’ space, all the while sliding his face into the crook of the older and slightly taller man’s neck, and he mouths the rest of the response against his clavicle, “We could hunt her down and take her out together.”
“Dean...” Cas hisses, his hands gripping tightly onto Dean’s hips.
“You could even fuck me open afterwards, if you wanted,” Dean licks a long line along the protruding outline of the bone, feeling Cas shudder underneath and against him, “Hold me down and take control like you want. Get you off while you’re still on your killing high.”
Cas groans, his hips making an aborted movement towards Dean, “She isn’t worth suck a thing. Besides, with how she always forgets to take her blood pressure medication, nature will more than likely beat us to it before we even get a chance to strike. All we’d have to do is say ‘boo’, and she’ll be gone before we even see an ounce of blood spill from her.”
“What a waste,” Dean whines, “I always like to see ‘em bleed dry.”
“I know you do, baby, which is why I want to find another target for us to go after.”
Dean’s eyes widen a little, “R-Really? You’d do that, just for me?”
“I’d do anything for you, Dean,” the man kisses Dean on the lips for a second, and pulls back enough to speak, his breath hot against Dean’s face with each pronunciation of every word, “I’ll even let you pick who we’re going to hunt together.”
That makes Dean smile for once, “I think I have someone in mind.”
“I love how you smile when talking about committing murder,” Cas chastely bites Dean’s bottom lip, “It’s a good look on you.”
“You should see me around blood, then, Cas. It’s like you and control. I get so high off it, like I’m just floating.”
Cas raises a brow as Dean laughs softly.
“I want you to fuck me when I’m like that, Cas. Bring me back down by pinning me in like you just did.”
The man’s expression darkens hungrily, “Oh, I plan on it, now.”
“Good. Now, when do you want to start our hunt together?”
Cas falters a little, “I- I am afraid that we can’t start immediately.”
The man cups Dean’s face, scowling at how Dean is pouting now, “While I want to do this as soon as possible, I’m going to have to keep up appearances.”
“Never would I have thought that I’d have to stop and wait over a kill because of work,” Dean mutters sadly, rubbing against Cas as he does so.
“I know, but I have to remain unsuspicious, and having a stable, boring job means it’s way easier to stay that way.”
Dean pouts softly along Cas’ jawline, “But doesn’t that tether you down, Cas? I mean, you can just quit and tag team with me. It’d be so much better than some nine-to-five job, right?”
“I wish I could do that, Dean, but it’s not that easy.”
Dean whines quietly, “I won’t like waiting, Cas. I’m quite the impulsive hunter.”
“Go ahead, murder someone for all I care. It won’t change the fact that I’ve been working at the same local, dead-end job for five years to kill its CEO.”
“But it’d be so lonely, Cas. How about I help you with that, instead?” Dean hisses, letting his hand slink down onto Cas’ belt buckle, “And this too?”
Cas smirks knowingly, “I have a better idea in mind.”
He slips the length of leather out from his belt loops, occasionally stealing a few glances at Dean as he presses Dean’s knife against the accessory.
“Cas, what are you doing?”
“Giving you something to bide the time with,” the man answers simply, jerking the blade through the cow hide until it’s in two uneven pieces, “and to remind you of me.”
Dean is scowling in confusion until Cas is suddenly presenting him with what seems like a makeshift, homemade collar.
For a moment, Dean gapes, “C-Cas, is this for me?”
“Yes,” the man smiles proudly as he jabs a few holes into the leather for notches, and he hands over the collar once he’s deemed it worthy enough to give to Dean, “It’s for you to wear until I get you a better one.”
The comment makes Dean shiver with anticipation as he takes the roughened length of leather into his hands, “Thank you, Cas.”
“Put it on, Dean.”
Dean looks at Cas the whole time he puts the collar on over his neck, and he even smirks a little at how Cas eyes him hungrily once the makeshift collar is buckled into place.
Without warning, Cas grabs Dean’s hair, forcing Dean’s head to bend back almost painfully as he practically growls in approval. Before Dean can say anything else, the older man licks roughly into his mouth - tasting him, feeling him - in the greatest way possible. Dean melts against Cas, and he finds that he has to lean on him as his knees shake like they had while he was pressed against the Impala.
When Cas separates them enough for Dean to speak, he decides to admit something, “God, Cas, what have you done to me? I can’t even take a single kiss from you without feeling like I’m going to topple over.”
Cas smiles darkly, “I’m glad that I have such an effect on you, Dean. It means that you need me just as much as I need you.”
“I want you, too,” Dean moans, letting Cas go back to marking up his neck now that he can work around the collar appropriately, “Want you so bad, Cas.”
“If it weren’t for the fact that I have an early shift tomorrow, I’d go ahead and take you again on your car hood.”
Dean freezes a little, “You’re still serious about leaving?”
Cas loses some of his fire, pulling back to coo at Dean softly, “I promise I’ll make it up to you, baby. It’s just that I’ve had a target painted on this man’s back for nearly half a decade. Not even you could stop me from hitting the bulls-eye on that bastard’s spinal cord. Or neck. Or wherever the hell it is that I feel like stabbing.”
“Care to tell me what warranted such a need?”
“He hurt my brother,” Cas growls out, “He killed my brother and he’s going to pay.”
Cas narrows his gaze at Dean, “Yes, why?”
Dean goes silent for a moment, and his voice is hollow as he speaks, “I lost my brother a few years ago. Almost three, I think. I’m not sure because I lost track of time after that. In fact, I just lost track of everything.”
The older man’s face holds an expression of understanding and sympathy, “Is it what made the itch appear for you?”
“Y-Yeah,” Dean stutters, “I mean, I’d felt it before through the years, but there was no reason to scratch at it. I couldn’t scratch it, just in case- just for Sammy. But with him gone ... I guess it really didn’t matter that much anymore.”
“It was the same way until that bastard hurt my brother, Gabriel. I’ve been waiting for five years to let people think that I’d accepted it and that I didn’t think it mattered- that I had gotten on with my life despite the absence of my brother. The bastard felt as though I needed comfort, and offered me a job at his company to help cope with the loss. It’s been so hard, trying not to blow my cover and planning early by stabbing him with a letter opener or putting the rat poison into his personal coffee pot. It’s why I’ve had to ‘scratch’ with other people. He made the itch unbearable, Dean.”
The man buries his face into Dean’s cropped hair, and Dean lets him have a few moments to collect himself before continuing.
“The worst part is that he thinks everything is golden. He thinks he covered it up as my brother having an affair with some woman named Kali who lived in California - like he didn’t even really try on making up her name. He thinks he got away with saying that Gabe was into drugs and wanted to have Kali hook him up with dealers over there in Los Angeles. He thinks I’m not aware of the fact that he stabbed my brother in the back and buried him under a conspicuous patch of daises like he was some- some fertilizer.”
Dean kisses Cas’ forehead, “We’ll make him pay for that, Cas. I promise.”
“You do? ...” Cas looks almost hesitant - as if he isn’t sure if he should trust Dean with such a vindictive murder.
“Yes, Cas, I do,” Dean cups Cas face, leaning up on his tiptoes to kiss the man all over as he murmurs his comforting words to him, “We’re gonna make sure that we hurt him just as much as he hurt you, okay? I’ll even help lure him in if I have to-”
“What do you mean?” Cas sounds angry then, and his eyes are precise as they stare at Dean.
Dean swallows, feeling his heart race at the danger that underlies that gaze of Cas’, “Well, I was just saying that if you needed to get him alone, then I would help you, Cas.”
“Good, because I thought I made it clear that you are not to let anyone else touch you, and that you are mine.”
“No one else’s,” Dean murmurs in response, and he groans as Cas pulls on the collar tightly.
Cas hums appreciatively, “It’s such a shame that I have to put you down and stop playing with you for a while. You’re quickly becoming my favorite toy.”
A hand unbuttons the collar around Dean’s neck, only to relatch it on another notch, making it even tighter around Dean’s neck. Before, there had been space for at least two fingers to slide in between Dean’s neck and the collar, but now, Cas can only manage to barely fit in one. The extra tightness makes Dean feel even more vulnerable and at Cas’ mercy, and he moans as he feels the leather press into his skin.
“I wish I could take you home and just keep you there,” Cas whispers as Dean’s eyelids flutter closed, “Have you wait for me and prepare yourself for me until I get home like a good little boy.”
“Then why don’t I come with you, Cas? I could probably even hide under you desk at work. I could suck you off whenever you want me to.”
Cas groans at that, but he sounds disappointed as he answers, “Because you can’t, no matter how good it sounds and how much I want that as well. It just can’t happen. Not until I get the bastard that killed my brother. After that, Dean, we can do whatever we want.”
Dean mewls when he feels Cas’ nails dig into his neck, breaking the skin a little and causing rivulets of blood to rise up along the crescent marks, “Why don’t we strike now, then?”
“Because the timing has to be perfect, Dean. It’s not something that you can just sprint into. I can’t barge into his office and put a bullet between his eyes like I want. I didn’t want five years just for laughs.”
Dean scowls a little, pouting his lips dramatically, knowing that the lower one glistens in the moonlight enough to catch Cas’ complete attention, “But don’t you want my help, Cas? I mean, think about it,” Dean slinks against Cas, and he brings one of his legs up onto the jut of the man’s hip so he can rub their crotches together, “I could help you slit the man’s throat, if need be. Would you like that, Cas? To see me all covered in that bastard’s blood? See me get high off it? Let you fuck me while I’m practically soaked because of our first kill together?”
Cas grits his teeth against one another, and he’s obviously restraining himself as he grips onto Dean’s elevated leg tightly, “You are certainly pleading your case.”
“I know,” Dean smiles, “Now are you gonna let me help or not?”
Dean practically pulls away from Cas then, and the man lets him, “W-What do you mean?”
“While I would be all for it when it is any other target, Dean, I can’t let you in on this one. This kill is mine, and mine alone.”
Dean is about to retort that he and Cas are now in this together - that they’re supposed to tag team and sate the itch together - but the dark look the man acquires in a matter of moments has Dean’s mouth closing just as fast as he had opened it. A small wave of fear - something he hasn’t felt in so long - snakes its way up his spine until it frays out along the rest of his nerves.
Dean tries not to tremble at the heavy presence of the man before him.
“Y-Yes, Cas,” Dean finds himself averting his gaze almost eagerly - as if he couldn’t stand seeing that hint of Hell in the man’s electric irises for any longer.
“Good boy,” Cas praises then, petting Dean’s hair softly - as if to comfort him for the fear he had just caused, “The sooner you understand where to step, the sooner I won’t have to teach you which lines are not to be crossed.”
Dean doesn’t speak - doesn’t think he can - with how well Cas has seemingly got to him and changed his behavior.
“You learn quickly,” Cas murmurs, making Dean’s eyelids flutter closed, and he slides something heavy into Dean’s pocket, “Now, Dean, show me if you can behave just as well.”
Dean is about to ask why - is about to grab onto Cas and demand that the man explain why Dean couldn’t follow and be with him like he’s supposed to be - when nothing but the cold wind from before greets his skin.
Dean opens his eyes to find that Cas has vanished. It’s almost as though he were a wisp - a trail of smoke or vapor that Dean just happened to stumble into and breathe in. It’s as though Cas was a sillage - there within one breath, and gone within the next.
Dean’s lungs feel vacant now - empty as the air that Cas just vacated - and he tries not to sob at the hollow ache that builds up in his chest. It’s like the itch, but different - off, almost. Where the itch is a burning pulse that makes Dean want, this hollow ache is a cold sting that makes Dean need.
His head swivels around to see that the small clearing is vacant for everything except himself and his Impala. The only reminder that is even left of Cas is his victim buried near the opening in the trees, the collar around Dean’s neck, and the -
Dean reaches into his pocket then, desperation fueling his shaky movements as he pulls out a flip phone. It’s outdated by today’s standards, and Dean can tell that it’s a cell that you use whenever you want contact, but not the traces that come with it.
Cas had given Dean a payphone, but to do what?
Dean frantically opens the old cell to find only two numbers programmed into it. 911 is the first - which would make Dean chuckle in any other circumstances - and the second is labeled as ‘Jimmy’.
Dean frowns as his thumb lingers over the keypad, only clicking when curiosity gets the better of him.
The contact information for Jimmy is fairly blank. It doesn’t come with a picture to identify it, or anything else other than a cell number. It nearly makes Dean scream in frustration, because - really? what did Cas expect him to do with this? - when a text comes in.
It’s from Jimmy, and it only makes Dean scowl even harder.
Behave yourself, Dean. For the time being, I may only be gone for a week, maybe two.
Still, I expect you to act as I informed you. I will be watching.
Dean frowns as he replies: i can’t wait tht long cas.
Go ahead and scratch if you need to. Pass the time by making someone pass on, I suppose.
Until then, you’re just going to have to wait till I come back.
Dean can almost imagine Cas’ glare, and the thought of it makes Dean shiver with anticipation: ull b back sooner thn u might thnk
Dean, do NOT push me.
Mayb i want 2 pull u instead
You’re going to make me very mad, aren’t you?
oh yes cas. i will. just thnk if u cme bak i wuldnt hve 2 do anythin.
So you want me to snap on you?
Dean smirks, because apparently, Cas just doesn’t get it: no cas. i want u 2 catch me if u can.
Once the text is sent, Dean’s smirk turns mischevious, and he clambers into the Impala to get a head start on pissing Cas off.
If the man doesn’t want to come, fine. That, Dean can work with - because he knows how to cheat the system. Dean knows that Cas will have to show up if he misbehaves.
So sure, Cas could keep his distance. That’s fine.
It just means that Dean will get to have his fun a little longer than if he didn’t.
The man pushes Dean up against the wall, his tongue delving into Dean’s mouth once Dean opens it for him. The brick wall of the club is rough against Dean’s back, especially so where the man’s hand has snaked up his tee and caused the shirt to bunch up as he explores Dean’s torso. He smells of ash and cheap beer - smells wrong - but Dean pushes through it for the ache that parades itself through Dean’s veins like it’s protesting.
“S-So pretty,” the stranger slurs, his form and hands stumbling over Dean’s body like his tongue does over his words, “I bet you’d l-look even better in my bed.”
Dean rolls his eyes as the man assaults his neck - still marked up with hickeys from Cas and retaining the impressions from the collar Cas had given him - with his tainted lips, “How about you and I get out of here, then?”
The man is about to say something when Dean sees it - a pair of electric blue eyes watching him venomously from the darkest part of the alleyway - causing Dean to freeze and stare at them as the stranger grinds against him.
“H-Hey, I asked you if you wanted to g-go,” the man whines, and Dean is shocked back into the situation he had wormed his way into.
“Sure,” Dean whispers back, and when he glances at the shadowed part of the alley, he finds that those eyes have left just as easily as they had come.
Dean feels the man grip onto his hand, and he’s led away back through the ruck that is the club that Dean had just wandered on into for shits and giggles. He’s been trying to keep it as sporadic as he could so Cas would be kept on his toes - but from what he saw in the alley way ... well, Dean’s not so sure that he outran the man now.
Still, it doesn’t change the fact that for the past few nights, Dean has been surveying the local nightlife for easy targets. Normally, it would be with a predatory-esque gaze - knowing that whoever happened to come along with him would never leave his side, at least, they wouldn’t be alive when they finally did. Now, however, Dean had been narrowing out the people he could use to sate himself with using tongues and fingers, rather than knives and garbage bags, by bringing Cas back into the fray.
Apparently, going by what he had seen briefly earlier, his plan has been working on gaining Cas’ attention.
“Gotta find my keys,” the man mumbles as Dean begins to lean on his lemon of a car.
He can hear the drunken stranger curse as he rummages through his pockets while that fear begins to trickle up his spine like it had when Dean had first pissed off Cas. The wind is shrill and almost callous as it blows, making Dean’s lungs feel brittle as he inhales it.
He feels fragile now, but not from the wind.
No, he feels fragile because he knows that after this, Cas is going to break him in, and that may come sooner rather than later.
“You cold?” the stranger asks when he notices Dean shivering against the passenger door, and he has the audacity to smirk sloppily, “It’ll be fine, cupcake. We’ll b-be warmin’ each other up soon enough.”
Internally, Dean groans in disgust, but he manages to put on a nice, fake smile that encourages the man to hurry the fuck up, but not for the reason he’s thinking.
Cas is nearby - Dean can just feel it - and going by how he eyed Dean not too long ago, the man is quite upset.
“I must’ve dropped ‘em,” the stranger grumbles after another minute of pocket mining, and he scowls as he looks over to Dean, “W-Wait here. I’m gonna see if the bouncer has any lost keys.”
Dean nods only once, and he swallows hard as he watches the man stumble away back to the entrance of the rinky dink club. For a few moments, Dean is left to his own devices, and he rubs at his arms as goosebumps begin to stipple his skin.
“You wouldn’t be cold if you brought a coat.”
Dean pivots his head to see Cas leaning onto the trunk of the car, facing away from him as he casually enters something into his phone.
“W-Wasn’t thinking about that...” Dean grits out, his teeth chattering against themselves.
“Of course you weren’t,” Cas snarks back bitterly, his voice dark and angry, “You were only thinking about having some stranger fuck you, weren’t you?”
Dean doesn’t dare answer.
“I mean, you even dressed up for them, didn’t you?” Cas laughs sinisterly, “Just look at yourself, Dean. A gray, see-through v-neck and black skinny jeans that rest low on your hips... You might as well come into the club with no clothes on at all with the words ‘fuck me please’ painted on you in neon.”
The words are harsh, and Dean feels some regret for upsetting Cas, “I- I’m sorry-”
“No you’re not, Dean. I know better, and you should too,” Cas hisses, rounding the side of the car in mere seconds, nearly causing Dean to jump when he’s suddenly in the man’s space, “Tell me, Dean, do you have a death wish? Do you really want me to go back to when I first pressed you against your car hood? I can always change my mind and slit your throat to let you bleed out like I had intended to in the first place.”
Dean averts his gaze at the enraged look plastered on Cas’ features, making him look rough and callous as Dean tries to placate him for his intentional mistakes, “I just wanted you back, Cas. I- I’m hooked on you, like you’re some kind of drug. I haven’t even felt like killing, Cas. That hasn’t happened since Sammy was alive.”
Cas doesn’t say anything this time around, but he still doesn’t look any less angry as the wind gusts numerous strands of his hair around, making all of him look while and unhinged.
“I’ve always itched since Sammy, Cas, and now, since you, I’ve done nothing but ache,” Dean slides closer to Cas with each and every word, “It hurts so much, Cas, like you just walked right through me and left a hole wherever you’ve been. I feel those holes, Cas, they sting like cuts under my skin. You’re the only thing that makes them feel sated, Cas. You soothe the ache.”
Cas still remains silent.
“I can’t deal with you being away, and the only method I knew would work on getting you back was to piss you off like this. Please, Cas, you have to understand.”
“I thought you were ready,” the man says angrily, with some small amount of hurt - as if Dean’s actions had disappointed him - as if he betrayed him.
Tears well up in Dean’s eyes a little, “And I am ready, Cas. I’m ready to be yours and yours alone, but I can’t do that if you’re going to be pretending to be normal. I need you, not your false contact name on a payphone sending me texts periodically.”
“Dean, I am a serial killer, not a heartless romantic. If you wanted rose petals instead of bloodstains, or chocolates instead of knives, you should’ve found another man to fuck you over your car hood.”
Dean feels pathetic as more tears stream down his face as his voice breaks while pleading, “I don’t need any of that. I don’t want it. I want you. I need you, Cas.”
“Oh, do you now?” Cas taunts, unphased by Dean’s tearful begging, “Do you need me just like that bastard right here?”
“Who are y-you callin’ a bastard?” the stranger from before snarks, and Cas scowls harder at him as he approaches, “G-Get away from him. If you want a twink of y-your own, you gotta go to the club and get one there. He’s m-mine.”
That was the worst possible thing to say, because Cas’ eyes grow in intensity and feralness as he glares at the alcoholic before him.
“You know this prick?” the drunk asks, frowning slightly as he glances between a teary-eyed Dean and a pissed off Cas, “He must be a b-bad ex or somethin’... Look, he’s over you, man. He’s allowed to fuck who he wa-”
The man doesn’t finish the sentence, because Cas has already sunk a knife into the man’s gut. His eyes go wide for a fraction of a second while his mouth just flounders around on air. Apparently, his intoxication has affected his ability to react to getting stabbed by Cas, so before he’s able to even get a single scream out, Cas has already twisted the blade and ended his blip of an existence like it was nothing at all.
“Cas!” Dean scolds in an angry whisper, “You can’t kill people in public! There’s literally a bouncer right fucking there and-”
The man tugs Dean close by the collar of his shirt, and he is kissing Dean thoroughly before the younger man can even think about pushing him away. The bastard must know that Dean’s got a weakness for him, or at least, with this, because Dean’s mind goes blank and his eyes roll back into his head as he feels Cas’ other hand cup the side of his face. It only makes Dean fall into the hole even harder, because the palm that’s against his skin is covered with the drunk’s freshly spilt blood, and it only makes it that much tougher for Dean to reprimand Cas for his brashness like he wants to.
When Cas pulls away from Dean’s mouth, Dean is left gaping softly with half-lidded eyes as his breath shakily escapes him.
“Cas,” he whispers, gripping onto the man beside him tightly.
“I’ll clean up this mistake right here. You, however, are to take this motel key and go to the room numbered on it. You are going to wash your mouth out until you can’t taste anything but toothpaste, and then, you’re going to take a shower that’s so thorough that you feel raw. When I get there, you will be on the bed, prepped and ready to go. If you want less of a punishment for your misbehavior, then you’ll do as I say.”
Dean grabs the key that Cas mentioned when it is held out to him, and he begins to scramble away when he hears Cas speak lowly once more.
“Oh, and Dean,” he slides the knife back away, only to look over his shoulder - the side of his face that can be seen is speckled in blood, “I really wouldn’t want to piss me off any more right now.”
Dean doesn’t need to be warned twice.
The address for the motel is stamped onto the tab, and for a moment, Dean sits in the driver’s seat of the Impala and traces his thumb over it. He knows he could just take off - go down a highway - drive away and never be seen around here again.
But he doesn’t.
He doesn’t leave Cas like the small voice - one that sounds suspiciously like Sammy’s - tells him to, or, by the volume it gains when Dean drives towards the motel in question, begs him to.
Leave. Get away while you still can.
Dean, instead, pulls into the motel parking lot.
He could kill you.
The Impala’s engine cuts off after Dean shifts and takes the keys out of it.
You could kill him instead.
Dean opens the door to the room that is numbered on the key.
You can take you knife and kill him before he does anything to you.
On the counter, an unopened pack of toothbrushes lay on the counter, along with a small tube of toothpaste beside it.
You can get rid of that ache and scratch at the same time, Dean.
The toothpaste is bitter and burns Dean’s mouth as he practically scrapes at his teeth as he was instructed to do.
You can go back to how things were before I died.
Dean stops brushing and grips onto the sink as Sammy’s voice essentially screams in his head. His breathing is rushing in and out of his lungs, making him cough as he accidentally inhales some of the toothpaste into his mouth.
He ends up vomiting in the sink then, sputtering the nasty mixture of fluids into the basin of the sink.
“S-Shit,” Dean shakes out, his limbs trembling as his stomach rolls almost painfully, “Shit, shit, shit shit-”
You’re pathetic, Dean, needing Cas like this. I thought you were stronger than this. I thought you were invincible. It’s funny. You thought the same thing about me, and look what happened in that alleyway.
“Shut up!” Dean screams, slamming his hands against his ears - as if that would block Sammy out.
You idiot, I’m in your head. I’ve always been in your head. I’ve always been here- watching you slaughter all of those innocent people who just happened to look like me.
Sammy tsks, sounding disappointed as he goes on.
If I would’ve known that you’d turn out like this- this whimpering mess on the floor- then I would’ve locked you up like the headcase that you are-
“Stop!” Dean sobs, falling onto the ground in a fit of tears as Sammy’s sweet voice sings such vile words.
Don’t like it when someone tells you the truth? I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. You’re such a failure, Dean. After all, didn’t dad ask you to take care of me? Don’t you remember that promise you made to him? Sure, you were four and I was only a baby, but he still expected so much from his little solider. I wonder how he’d react when he finds out that his only good son is now rotting in the ground-
Dean slams something into the mirror, hearing the glass crack satisfyingly as the projectile hits it with all the force Dean had put into it. He’s sobbing so hard that his lungs hurt and his eyes sting, and he can feel small pieces of the broken mirror dust him as they fall about the bathroom floor. A few nick his skin here and there, but the pain they cause is dwarfed by the immense feeling of guilt and remorse that fills Dean up only to drown him out.
“Dean?” Cas’ voice comes from the entrance to the motel room, and he actually sounds concerned, “Dean, I heard something break, are you alright?”
Dean’s sobs are silent now as he shakes on the shitty rug that the maids had let mildew on the bathroom tiles. He’s quiet enough that he can hear Cas gasp as he comes upon the scene that Dean has created.
“Oh, baby,” Cas rushes forward, carefully dusting off shards of the mirror as he does so, cooing at Dean as he tries to remove all of them so Dean can move, “I’m here now, it’s okay.”
For a serial killer and a mad man, Dean has a stray thought that Cas could’ve made a hell of a therapist if he tried.
Still, even with Cas’ gentle voice and words, tears still stream down Dean’s face as he thinks of poor, little Sammy.
He thinks about how the cops had come in the middle of the night - how there red and blue lights flashed across the windows when they arrived. He thinks about how they had solemn looks on their faces, and how they quietly informed him that his brother had been found murdered - stabbed to death inside of an alleyway.
He thinks about how he had sent Sammy out to get some money from the ATM so they could get a few beers and some snacks for their movie night.
He thinks about how he already had the movie in the DVD player, even, and how the disc broke alongside the player when Dean had thrown it against the wall in a fit of despair.
He thinks about how he broke himself - cracked down the middle - split into tiny splinters that could never be pieced together again.
He thinks about how that night, everything changed. About how he changed.
“C-Cas,” Dean cries quietly, his voice hoarse as the man above still picks away at the offending shards of mirror, “I’m s-sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Dean,” Cas murmurs, brushing the side of Dean’s face with the pad of his finger, “I’m not mad at you.”
“B-But you are,” Dean sobs pathetically, “I disobeyed you. I f-f-failed you. I’m not ready like I’m supposed to b-be.”
Cas is scowling when Dean looks at him, “Dean, I’m not mad at you. I promise.”
Dean pouts a little, “A-Are you sure?”
“Yes,” the man whispers, “Now up. We’re taking a shower.”
Dean wipes at his eye, “What about t-the mirror?”
“I’ll take care of it. Just get in the shower and leave on your clothes. I’ll join you in a moment.”
Dean obeys quietly, still sniffling occasionally as he clambers into the shower. He can hear Cas sweeping away the bits of broken glass with a broom over the water, and Dean shivers when it takes too long to heat up.
His shirt and jeans cling to him as he waits for Cas, and he couldn’t be more grateful as the man himself pulls back the curtain to join him.
He’s naked, and Dean decides to take the man in. He’s lean and slightly muscled, which is fine. Dean’s never been into the big buff dudes, anyways. Still, it’s enough to have his cock twitch a little in interest, and going by the look in Cas’ eyes, that was the intention.
“Do you think you can handle some shower sex?”
Dean nods a little, “It’ll make me feel a little better, yeah...”
Cas steps in then, and he eyes Dean hungrily from where he stands under the spray of water, “You’re probably wondering why I told you to keep your clothes on, aren’t you?”
“Y-Yeah,” Dean shakes out, shivering a little as Cas leans down to take his shoes off, “Why did you want that?”
“For one, I wasn’t sure if I got every shard off, so I didn’t want you to get hurt anymore than you already were by getting undressed. Secondly, I really wanted to see if you’d look great while being soaked. I must say, Dean, you do.”
Dean almost smiles, “Do you still want me to wash my Impala in front of you?”
“Definitely, but we can do that later,” Cas murmurs, going to Dean’s fly with purpose, “For right now, I want you to feel better.”
Dean whimpers a little as Cas mouths at the zipper, only to take the small piece of metal between his teeth to pull it down, “You s-say that like you know how this feels.”
“It’s because I do,” Cas exhales hotly against Dean’s bare skin underneath his jeans, “You went commando?”
“It’s a lifestyle, not a habit,” Dean murmurs in defense, but quickly tries to get the subject back on track, “But you mean that you understand because of Gabe?”
Cas’ gaze darkens a bit, but not from arousal as he slips Dean out of his jeans, “Yes. I often found myself doing what you were. I blamed myself for not noticing that bastard was onto something sooner.”
Dean hesitates a little, “W-Why did he kill Gabe?”
“He wanted the freedom,” Cas explains, almost impassive as he does so, “He had married my brother about a decade back, and loved him for only a fraction of it. He was in too deep with Gabe, and when he wanted to cut ties with him, he’d realize that Gabe could take pretty much everything he owned in the divorce, so he took everything from Gabe before he could destroy him.”
Dean scowls a little, “Was Gabe aware of any of this?”
“Sadly, no. He thought they were still happily married. I, however, knew something was up. The night that the bastard killed him was the night that I asked Gabe to meet me up. When he never showed, I went to his house to check on him. That’s how I found out about his husband’s new love for gardening organically. If only I’d been quicker...”
Dean takes a hand and lifts Cas’ face up by the jaw, “It’s not your fault. It never was, Cas.”
“I could say the same about you,” the man murmurs, his jaw moving in Dean’s hand as he speaks, “but it’ll do us both as much good as we think it would.”
“So none at all.”
“Precisely,” Cas states, and without warning, he goes in and takes Dean’s cock into his mouth completely.
“F-Fuck, Cas,” Dean moans, leaning back onto the shower wall as he feels the older man’s tongue swirl over the head, sucking lightly as he does so, “Warn a guy next t-time...”
Cas chuckles around Dean’s member, only making it worse for Dean.
“So you use sex to forget?” Dean asks, thudding his head against the shower wall as Cas takes him down to the base and back up again.
Cas frees himself for a moment to speak, “No, I could never forget what happened, Dean. I just use it to bide the time.”
“So to cope?”
“In some sense, yes, and in another, no,” Cas licks Dean’s cock, keeping eye contact with Dean as he does so, only letting up when Dean trembles against the wall, “I use sex to get my mind off of things, and maybe, to get my body off, too.”
Dean snorts a little as Cas swallows him back down, “That’s a positive way to look at things.”
From down below, Cas shrugs, but he doesn’t stop sucking.
Dean moans a little, his hips thrusting into the wet heat that is Cas’ mouth as the man purses his lips and massages with his tongue. His ministrations have Dean shaking and shuddering only minutes in, and going by how Cas pops off of Dean messily and lewdly, that was the intention. Dean is left gaping almost stupidly against the shower wall as Cas stands back up, smirking at the sight of how disheveled he’s made Dean.
“Better for now?”
“Why d-did you stop?”
Cas’ smirk grows a little, “Because you were about to come. I want to save that for just a few moments from now.”
Dean feels his cock throb a little, and when he looks down, he finds his length to be an angry red - completely swollen and raised as high as can be against his shirt-clad stomach.
“O-Oh,” Dean murmurs.
How had he not noticed?
Cas shushes Dean when he begins to open his mouth to speak, and he chuckles when Dean pouts against the finger he had pressed to his lips, “Just do as I say, Dean. Don’t question it.”
Dean nods, and Cas lets his finger slip away.
“Touch yourself,” he orders.
Dean glances from his erect member to Cas as he hesitantly brings a hand forward, and he bits his bottom lip as he gauges Cas’ reaction.
“No, not there.”
Dean swallows a little, and he moves his hand from his front to his back. He sends Cas another questioning look for approval.
“Yes,” Cas grins even wider.
Blush tints Dean’s cheeks a little, and he fumbles around, trying to get his hand at a good angle to reach his hole.
“You’re like a flustered virgin,” Cas chuckles, “Didn’t you tell me that you touched yourself all the time?”
“Yeah, but never like this,” Dean whispers, his eyes widening as he feels his fingertip brush against his entrance for the first time, “It’s- it’s strange.”
The older man smiles, and he takes some body soap and pours it over Dean, “If you want, we can wait until you’re in a more comfortable position on the bed. For right now, instead, you can wash me off.”
For a second, Dean nearly snaps at Cas to tell him to do it himself - until he sees the blood.
Again, how had he not noticed?
Speckles of crimson stippled his skin, and Dean ached a little at the sight. He brought his hand forward, letting his fingertips trace patterns and shapes by connecting the dried droplets, only to make him scowl as the red washed away.
“Why do you like blood so much?” Cas blurts.
“The same reason as to why you like getting control,” Dean murmurs, his eyes flickering over the remaining spatters of blood, “I just happen to crave it.”
Cas snorts softly, allowing Dean to use a glob of soap to wash at his face, “That’s not what I was asking for exactly.”
“I just like blood in that kind of way, Cas,” Dean whispers, scowling even harder as the suds turn a light pink as they unsatisfyingly remove the liquid off of Cas’ flesh, “It’s not rocket science.”
“No, but it is intriguing.”
Dean’s lip twitches, but it doesn’t stay quirked, “Is that your way of telling me that I’m interesting?”
“I suppose,” Cas muses, closing his eyes as Dean pulls him under the spray to wash away the soap, “I just found it to be unusual.”
“I murder people, Cas. I have breakdowns in motel bathrooms. I have sex with another serial killer that just happens to be you. I have a blood kink, and you love an actual power play between life and death. I think everything about you and I is unusual.”
That makes the older man smile as Dean lathers his chest, “Good. Normal is boring.”
Dean shakes his head, but says nothing else on the matter. Instead, he just finishes soaping up Cas’ skin until every speck of blood has been washed down the drain as sudsy, pink water. He’s a little upset at the loss, but then again, fresh blood is his favorite, and everything on Cas was a little too old for his tastes.
Still, Dean feels somewhat hollow as he towels himself off beside Cas. He’s unusually quiet and disconnected from the man, and Cas notices.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“I don’t know.”
Haven’t for some time now, honestly.
“Maybe we should put off the sex for tonight,” Cas murmurs, coming up from behind Dean, snaking his arms around Dean’s waist and mouthing at the base his neck as he speaks, “For now, we’ll just get some much needed rest.”
Dean leans into the warm body pressed up so nicely against his own, “Don’t you have work?”
“I told them I had an emergency that needed to be taken care of. They won’t question me, Dean. I haven’t taken a day off in almost eleven months.”
“Why such the time gap?”
“Because Gabriel’s anniversary only comes once a year,” Cas mutters somewhat darkly, “but that’s beside the point. You need me here more than they need me there, Dean. I realize that now.”
Dean closes his eyes, tilting his head up so Cas can kiss his neck gingerly, “How come you didn’t listen to me when I told you that in the first place?”
“Dean,” Cas warns, his hands growing somewhat harsh on Dean’s hip bones.
“S’true, Cas,” Dean rubs himself against the man, “Besides, are you going to contradict everything you say? Weren’t you just telling me that we were going to have sex?”
Cas sighs, “Yes, I’m currently eating my own words, Dean, but I’m serious. I’m worried about you... Are you sure sex is something you want right now?”
Dean opens his eyes a little, and he finds the broken mirror staring back at him - or at least, all of his numerous, shattered reflections staring back at him. Even with the broken images before him, Dean can see the look in his eyes well enough.
The anger; the confusion; the hollowness.
He can see it in his irises as clear as day, as though there are little signs or something saying: “HELP! I’M LOST! I’M BROKEN!”
Dean sighs a little, and he leans back on Cas even more as he reflection refuses to relent its stare.
“I dunno, Cas... Think you can fill an empty man like me up?”
Now, while Cas may think that it’s the sexiest thing ever said, Dean is currently being literal.
After Sammy, Dean was just - he was different. When he woke up in the morning to an empty apartment, Dean lost a piece of himself. When he had to use the Impala and looked over to an empty passenger seat, Dean lost another piece of himself. When Dean went to a diner or something similar and he didn’t have to order a salad with his meal and the other side of the table was empty, Dean lost yet another piece - another thread of his already fraying sanity.
It didn’t take too long, with all of those reminders of Sammy, because within about a month or two after his death - his murder - Dean was stalking his first kill. It wasn’t exactly the first time he had hunted though, truth be told. Only, most of the time, his targets were deer or something similar. It was his and Sammy’s pass time, and so, Dean only found it fitting to alter it a little after Sammy passed.
He hadn’t told his brother of the itch - of the urge to hunt much bigger, more complicated game than just Bambi - or how he had dreams of committing murder. He hadn’t told Sammy about how it started off with getting revenge with John, making him pay for all that he did and for all that he wronged them with, but especially not when the man morphed into that of a stranger who had been in Dean’s stalking ground at the wrong time.
Sammy might of had his suspicions, after all, Dean was always very thorough with his kills and always liked using a knife on them when he could’ve just waited till later. But there was something about how freshly removed guts smelled and looked on decaying leaves, or how the blood of venison made Dean’s fingertips tacky and stained - tainted, almost. He had always given Dean these worryingly looks, and once, he even asked Dean why he hunted the way that he did.
At the time, Dean was caught off guard by the question, and even to this day, he doesn’t quite know. However, he does know, because all of the cop and murder shows on TV, that serial killers usually start off with animals like he did. So maybe that’s where it started - there in the woods, hunting beside Sammy - only for it to end when Sammy was found in the alleyway - gutted like Dean’s deer were because he had about twenty to thirty bucks on him and the killer was apparently that desperate for the pittance.
So yes, Dean is a broken, fucked up man. He knows this. Cas knows this.
But still ... there’s still something missing - there always will be ... but still...
“I think I might take you up on that offer,” Cas purrs with a smirk, “You know, I bought a surprise for you.”
Cas nods as he lets Dean walk ahead of him to the motel room’s shitty bed, “Yes. I bought it right after I had to leave you.”
Dean frowns a little, “Don’t say it like that...”
Everyone you love leaves you.
After all, I left you too, didn’t I?
Dean holds his arm to his side, “S’fine... Just- what did you get me?”
I guess that they just don’t love you back, do they?”
Sammy’s blatant and brash words fade into the recesses of Dean’s mind as Cas goes over to a bag he must’ve brought in with him. He quickly unzips the side pocket of it, grabbing out what looks to be like -
“You got me a collar?”
“I told you that I was going to get you a good one, remember?” Cas says with a smile, and he walks over with a smile as he glances at Dean and the item in his hands, “While I think that the first one has a little bit more sentiment, this one is more ... professional, I suppose. Besides, I’m sure that the old one had a habit of rubbing your neck raw, didn’t it?”
Dean nods slightly, eyeing the collar in Cas’ hands as well, “Yeah, it did...”
While the old collar was a dark brown and was obviously made from a belt, this length of leather was obviously never intended to be anything else. It’s got numerous notches, all of which are finely carved out, unlike the ones that Cas had made for Dean’s makeshift one. It’s sleek and black, and the inside is padded a little and covered in what feels like an expensive silk.
“Now, while I do believe that you should be punished for all that you’ve done,” Cas begins, and Dean winces a little at the reminder, “I think that you’ve beaten yourself up better than I could ever reprimand you. So here, Dean.”
Dean hesitantly grabs the collar, and he swallows nervously as he slips it on over his neck, clasping it as Cas watches every move like a hawk. The older man licks his lips, his pupils expanding a centimeter or two whenever the click of the clasp is fixed over Dean’s throat.
“H-How does it feel?” Cas asks, almost shaking as he stares at the collar on Dean’s neck.
“Nice,” Dean murmurs, brushing a finger over the outside of the leather as his skin gets used to the sensation altogether, “A little strange, but ... with time, I’ll get used to it.”
Cas licks his lips hungrily, “So you’ll keep wearing it?”
Dean nods, “Yes, Cas, I will.”
The man smiles, smirking as he pushes the backs of Dean’s knees into the edge of the mattress, “Good, because you look absolutely fuckable while wearing it.”
Dean almost smiles, “Do I?”
“Yes,” Cas hisses as he drapes his body over Dean’s, “Black is definitely your color.”
Dean kisses Cas for a few seconds, using his bottom lip to push against Cas’ mouth as the man groans while tasting him, “Maybe I should wash the Impala with it on tomorrow, then.”
Cas has to pull away for a second, shuddering as he does so, and when he looks up, his eyes are dark with want, “We’ll get to that eventually. For right now, though, I’ve got something else on my mind.”
“I really, really want to fuck you,” Cas growls, mouthing at Dean’s neck as he surges forwards, “But, I do want to watch something first?”
“Okay?” Dean shakes out.
Cas moves his lips to the shell of Dean’s ear, “Touch yourself like I told you to earlier, Dean.”
Dean bites his bottom lip, but nods. He waits until Cas is a few steps back before he starts.
Taking two fingers, Dean slips them past his lips to wet them with spit, making Cas groan at the sight. Just for show, Dean sucks on his fingers for a moment, just to tease Cas, but when the man’s eyes darken with the promise of something sinister if he doesn’t get on with it, Dean hurriedly changes his tune.
Slowly, glancing between his body and Cas, Dean slinks his fingers down past his hips until they linger just right in front of his entrance. Dean looks up at Cas, asking permission. He gets a nod from Cas, and he moans as he pushes two fingers into himself.
Cas licks his lips, and he grabs his stiffening cock with his hand, groaning as he strokes up and down its length in time with Dean’s fingers. Dean stretches out on the bed though, groaning as he fingers himself for the first time. Cas makes a dark noise when Dean keens as he adds a third finger just to test it out.
“You like to push yourself, don’t you?” Cas hisses, and Dean can hear his hand sliding over slick, intimate flesh, “Or do you like to push yourself for me?”
“B-Both,” Dean murmurs, enjoying the burn that he’s causing and what he’s causing Cas to feel, “I like both.”
Cas grunts for a second, and Dean gasps as his hips jolt naturally down onto his digits, “It doesn’t matter, because either way, Dean ... you’re putting on a hell of a show.”
Dean’s free hand moves up to touch his cock, but Cas tsks.
“What did I tell you in the shower, Dean?”
“T-That you’d rather see me do this,” Dean stutters, his hand faltering alongside his tongue as he showcases Cas just exactly what he can do.
Cas hums, “Yes, Dean. If you have the urge to touch your cock, I suggest you refrain from that.”
Dean nods, and instead of touching himself with his other hand, he grabs onto the motel bed’s duvet in a tight grip.
“There you go, Dean,” the older man praises, “Just like that.”
The collar is tight around Dean’s neck as he throws his head back, and going by the hiss of pleasure that Cas makes, it must be a sight to see. Still, it doesn’t matter to Dean, because he’s more focused on the fact that he’s now up to four fingers and that the stretch and burn are just too much and not enough at the same time. He whines as his wrist cramps, but he powers through it, clenching his teeth tightly as his thighs shudder and twitch from his lower ministrations.
“C-Cas,” Dean moans, “I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”
The man is over Dean in a flash, pulling his fingers out roughly and replacing them with his cock all within a few seconds. Dean cries out, and his legs wrap around Cas’ hips in shock as he feels Cas enter him for the second time.
“Shit, Cas,” Dean is gripping onto the duvet with both hands now, “Impatient much?”
Cas is too busy mouthing feverishly at Dean’s neck to reply, and Dean quickly follows suit in the wordless department.
Noises - ones he only used to here in pornos - escape him like nothing, as if it was as easy as breathing, and Cas latches onto every single one of them greedily. He sucks more hickeys into Dean’s neck, muttering something into the flesh as he does so.
“Gotta mark you up, babe,” Cas whispers, seemingly focused on lathering up Dean’s neck with his lips and tongue, “Gotta show the world who you belong to.”
Dean groans, “Cas...”
“That’s it, spread out and bare yourself for me, baby,” the older man sounds as though he’s high, and his eyes look so blown with lust that Dean wonders if his irises must have seemingly disappeared, “I’ll take good care of you, better than any of those alcoholics at the clubs.”
Dean groans, and he goes limp as he feels his orgasm rip through him.
“That’s it, Dean,” Cas watches as stripes of come mark Dean’s stomach, “You look so great like this, babe.”
Dean doesn’t know what’s with the pet names, but apparently, Cas is quite the sweet talker when he’s on a high like this.
It doesn’t take Cas that long either, because he falls apart and comes inside of Dean about three minutes after Dean’s already orgasmed, and he lies there as Cas takes a deep breath.
“Peachy, Cas,” Dean mumbles, letting his eyes shut as he feels the strain from today settle on them, seemingly dragging them shut.
Cas maneuvers them until they are on their sides, and he brushes a few fingers through Dean’s damp hair as they just lie there.
“Dean, remember when I told you that I’d let you pick our first target together?”
Dean nods, almost too tired to reply, and his eyes remain shut.
“Who was it that you had in mind?”
Dean’s eyelids raise only a fraction, and he scowls softly at the man before him, “But don’t you wanna take down Gabe’s killer?”
Cas’ gaze darkens a little, “There will be enough time for him later... I just don’t want you to fall apart like that in the bathroom again, Dean. It scared me.”
Dean snorts, “So the big bad serial killer is afraid of me having emotional issues-”
“Dean, I’m being serious,” Cas brushes a few fingers against the curve of his cheekbone, “You’re special to me, and I don’t want to lose you- even if it’s to your own mind.”
Dean quiets a little at that, “I’m fucked up, Cas. You should know this.”
“I do,” Cas kisses Dean’s forehead then, “It’s what I love about you. It’s just- you need me to cope. I get it.”
Cas sighs, and he pulls Dean a little closer, “At first, I just thought you wanted company- someone else who felt like you did about itching. But as I watched you misbehaving- knowing that I’d be angry- just to get me back... I realized that you didn’t know what to do with yourself when I was gone.”
“I’m not some desperate housewife,” Dean mutters somewhat angrily.
“No, you’re not. But you are a damaged man, Dean. That you cannot deny,” Cas presses their foreheads together, “You also can’t deny that I make you feel better, can you?”
Dean takes a moment to answer, “ ... No.”
Cas smiles softly, “I was the same way after Gabriel, if it makes you feel any better.”
Dean perks up at that.
“I had trouble coping just like you. Had a few breakdowns, might have destroyed a few things myself... Still, it took me a bit to find my footing again.”
“How did you find it?”
Cas smirks darkly, “Killing, ironically. I was so pissed off by being around the guy that killed my brother, that it just felt ... natural, to let that pent up anger out on someone else. It made me feel great, Dean. It made me feel better.”
“At least you know who murdered your brother,” Dean mutters bitterly.
“If I knew who did it, Dean, I’d bring them back to you alive so you could slaughter them yourself,” Cas vows seriously, and Dean smiles softly at the promise that just can’t be followed out on.
Dean sighs, “Sammy was a good kid. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.”
Cas remains silent, but his eyes plead for an explanation.
“It was my fault, really... I sent him out when I shouldn’t have, and he got mugged for it. For twenty dollars, Cas- for twenty fucking dollars-”
Cas shushes Dean gingerly, “It’s okay, Dean. It’s okay.”
“No it’s not,” Dean sobs quietly, burying his face into Cas’ offered shoulder, “He’s dead because of me! I should’ve been the one in that alleyway, not him!”
Cas holds onto Dean as he cries, “We’ll get even for it, Dean-”
“How!? No matter who or how many times I kill, it’ll never bring him back!”
That makes Cas scowl, but he presses on, brushing away Dean’s tears as he speaks, “We’ll take down who you want, Dean. We’ll make people pay for what they’ve done to us.”
Dean quiets a little, “Y-You really do mean that you’ll hunt with me?”
“Yes, Dean, I do.”
The younger man smiles, just barely, at that, “O-Okay... I know who I want.”
“It’s the guy I hooked up with before math class in high school,” Dean whispers, enjoying how Cas seems to be on board with this target of choice, “His name’s Michael. Michael Garrison, I think.”
Cas’ eyes go comically wide, and then horrifyingly dark.
“W-What?” Dean asks, scooting away a little in fear as he thinks he did something wrong, “Do you not want to take him down?”
“No, Dean. I really fucking do.”
Dean scowls a little, and apparently, his look of confusion is enough to rouse an answer out of the older man.
“I don’t know if the universe likes to be a dick to you and I, but Dean,” Cas laughs hysterically for a second, the noise laced with disbelief and unfiltered fury, “you managed to hook up with my brother’s murderer in high school.”
Dean leans against the club wall, feeling it thump to the beat behind him as the DJ blasts his remixes throughout the room. Bodies are slamming up against one another, grinding to the tempo as Dean surveys them. He feels somewhat gaudy in here, smelling of cheap cologne and dressed in a white, opaque shirt that leaves an inch of his tan skin exposed between the hem of the shirt itself and the top of his blue jeans.
In short, Dean feels almost dolled up, but that’s not the point. It’s not what he needs to focus on.
What needs his attention are the patrons of this club, and, hopefully, the attention of his selected target.
He knows that a few people are eyeing him, especially this one man at the bar, but none of those people are who he needs. It takes about a song or two to play all the way through before the target in question manages to catch the sight of Dean from afar, and Dean has to act like he hasn’t noticed the new attention he’s getting as the familiar face meanders on up to him.
“Holy shit, D-Dean!?”
Dean turns to see the one and only Michael Garrison smirking at him, “Oh, Micheal... Is that you?”
“I mean, yeah, just-” he gives Dean an appreciative once over, his pupils dilating when he notices the black collar on Dean’s neck, “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Dean adds a small little giggle to his voice, and he bats his long lashes at Michael, “I’ve kind of changed a lot since high school... What about you? Did you change, Michael?”
The man takes a moment, and his mouth gapes for a few seconds as he just takes all of Dean in, “I, uh- not much, no...”
Dean pouts, sticking out his bottom lip as he saunters towards the man, “Aw, surely something must have...”
“I’ve found that I still like a lot of the same things,” the man murmurs, taking a few steps forward, and he grins stupidly as Dean wraps his arms around his neck, “You?”
Dean chuckles sweetly, eyeing Michael’s lips for a fraction of a second, “I’ve got a lot of the same tastes, yeah-”
Michael is on him instantly after that, and really - it’s almost too easy.
Dean kisses him back a little as the man groans as gropes his ass, and he knows that by the bulge pressing against his thigh that Michael’s still on board for their old activities.
“Shit, Dean,” Michael licks at Dean’s lips, “You’re just as amazing as I remember you as being.”
“Thanks. I do try,” Dean makes sure that his smile doesn’t seem too fake, “Now, how about you see how amazing I really am out back?”
Michael grins from ear to ear, and he grabs onto Dean’s hand and practically races them to the club’s back entrance. Soon enough, Dean is pressed against a brick wall, and Michael is moving quickly against him.
He must have been repressed or something, because his movements seem desperate.
“A little pent up, are we?” Dean teases.
“It’s been a while since I’ve hooked up with anyone,” Michael murmurs, kissing heatedly at Dean’s throat, “Most people don’t really approve of me doing things like this.”
Dean snorts, “It’s the twenty-first century, Michael. People won’t really care if your gay.”
Michael pauses for a second, “Y-Yeah, sure... That’s what they care about...”
Maybe they care about the fact you are still supposed to be loving your husband. But wait, that’s right - he’s currently pushing daises.
Dean laughs a little at Sammy’s insults, enjoying them like never before as Michael licks up his neck, only to pull back in disgust.
“A-Are you wearing make-up?”
Dean shrugs, “Twenty-first century.”
Michael scowls, and then wipes at Dean’s throat, “Are those fucking hickeys?”
“They might be.”
“Wow, Dean,” Michael says with a sneer, seemingly put off with ‘used goods’, “I never pegged you to be a cock slut, but yet, here we are...”
Dean smirks as he sees a pair of electric blue eyes glaring venomously at Michael’s back a few feet away in the shadows, “Oh, yes. Haven’t you heard, Michael?”
Michael seems almost repulsed by Dean now, “Heard what?”
Dean carefully goes into his pocket, and he pulls a daisy out of it - one that’s got a certain gold ring on its stem - and Michael’s eyes go wide at the dirt that’s lining the undersides of Dean’s nails.
“I’m quite the catch, Michael. The sad part is, at least for you, is that I’m already dating a murderer.”
Michael gapes, and he’s about to shout, scream - something - but he’s cut off as a familiar look set of blue eyes come up behind him, and Dean’s knife slits his throat.
Blood spurts over Dean’s face, and for a second, he closes his eyes as it gets all over him. However, when they open, he’s breathing roughly, and his cock is straining the zipper of his jeans.
Michael looks up at Dean, gasping and gurgling as the life drains out of him.
“Oh, and did I mention, he’s Gabe’s brother, too?”
Michael’s eyes go wide as Cas comes into view, and they stay like that - frozen in shock as he dies.
For a moment, Cas and Dean just stand there, and the faint thumping of the music inside of the club is all that can be heard despite their rushed breathing.
“We could use the Impala to get rid of him,” Dean blurts after a moment, and he licks his lips, nearly groaning at the taste of rusted salt.
“Wouldn’t that get it dirty, though?”
Dean laughs, and he shoves Cas against the wall - fueled by the fresh blood and kill, “Haven’t we talked about me washing it in shorts well enough by now?”
Cas grins, and his eyes darken.
“Remind me to kill with you more often like this.”
“Will do,” Dean hisses, and he slams his mouth against Cas’.
The itch is sated fairly well now that Cas is here to help Dean scratch.