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Can I Be Your Bitch?

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As Dean pulls up his jumpsuit again, catcalls and whistles reach his ears. He glares at the other inmates, daring them to say anything.

He isn't disappointed.

"Got pretty panties there, boy."

He whirls around, ready to deck the asshat who opened his mouth, but his brain comes to a halt as he is faced by the fucking sexiest thing ever.

Er, person, not thing.

Still, he needs to look strong, and not a weak-kneed damsel, so he grounds out a 'fuck you' before storming past the man, but not before yelping slightly as the man lands a swat on his ass.

Fucking hell.

--

It's probably been a week since he first saw the man that had called him out on his choice of underwear when he sees him again.

He's lounging against a wall with a few other men, all of them looking at him devotedly, as he speaks about something, talking animatedly.

What the heck? Why is this guy looking all regal and king-of-the-high-school-ish in a fucking prison? And why is everybody looking at him like they're his damn sheep and he's their damn shepherd?

He looks up then, and Dean freezes.

He needs to get away from this place, he needs to run, but his feet aren't helping him.

"Ooh, look who's here? Our resident girly boy. Lacey, how you doin'?" a fucktard mocks him, and Dean is about to punch the daylights out of him, when the leader speaks.

"Gordon, do you honestly think he's a girly boy? After all, weren't you the one asked for my protection back when you were new?"

Dean sees the activity the man mimes, and why the fuck is he suddenly aroused that this unnamed man fucks people to get their loyalty? Also, he is not going to get over the man calling him 'boy'.

He wants to be loyal to the man, he realizes suddenly.

He walks away, face burning slightly as the uncrowned king of the prison tracks his movement with his eyes.

--

Dean knew that he was stupid the moment he taunted Wolfrick Roman, but come on, who can blame him when 'Wolfrick' really does sound like 'wolf's dick'? And anyway, shouldn't people be proud of Dean's sudden increase of intelligence?

But no, Dick (ha, he's going to call him that only from now on, take that, fuckin' dick) had to beat up Dean. And Dean just had to act like a sore loser, and he has spent the past few hours sulking in his cell, occasionally rubbing the spot on his arm that has been smarting since Dick scratched it.

Kevin had tried to console him hours ago (and wow, how did the kid even end up here?) but he had given up when Dean wouldn't stop acting like a bitch, and now Dean's left to his own devices, slowly going crazy because of the uneventful stillness around him.

The rest of the inmates are still riotous, but they're far enough that Dean feels isolated, and he feels a little sad because of that.

--

The next time the King (Dean has resorted to calling him that in his head) sees Dean wearing panties, Dean wishes the ground would swallow him up. Well, almost. Because he doesn't know what he's supposed to make of the sentence the King threw his way.

Pink suits you better than purple.

What was he implying by his comment? Was he interested in Dean? It didn't seem so, but Dean sure hopes so. And isn't it pathetic that Dean is pining like a schoolgirl over a criminal who probably has the blood of innocents on his hands? A criminal that's at least ten years his senior, and makes him feel like a cornered animal every time he sets his predatory gaze on Dean?

Dean doesn't even know how long he is going to be here. Perhaps a week more, perhaps a day more, perhaps an hour more, perh-

Why is he counting in reverse? He is obviously not getting out anytime soon. Sam probably doesn't even know Dean is sitting in jail, rotting away on his ass.

Rotting away on his fucking rotten ass. Rotten as a tomato.

...Great, now he's getting depressed.

But he really should stop crushing on the Big Bad King.

But, his brain whines, it's not your fault that you like the silent, powerful, sexy ones.

And yeah, his brain is right, because science doesn't lie, and he really does like the silent, powerful and sexy ones.

Dean Winchester- President of the SPS Drooling Fanclub, Captain of Team King.

He also really, really needs to find out the guy's name because what if he ends up screaming 'King' one day while getting fucked by said guy? He also really, really, really, really needs to stop thinking that the guy will ever fuck him.

Dean Winchester- Co-captain of the Angst Club.

You know what would be perfect? The scenario of him just bending over in front of the King the next time he saw him, and let nature do its thing.

--

Dick is relentless in his campaign against Dean. But Dean isn’t shrinking back like a touch-me-not (although he really doesn’t want Dick touching him). He’s fighting back by calling Dick Dick every time he sees him. Because, well, Dick is, frankly speaking, a dick. An utter dick.

Today, Dick tried to upend his food over Dean’s head.

And the worst thing is, the King- whose name turned out to be fucking Castiel- isn’t even doing anything. Like, he just smirks whenever something like this happens, he doesn’t even try to come to Dean’s rescue. (Dean is resolutely not going to think that the first time he saw Castiel, he had denied being a damsel.)

Does he want Dean to start throwing punches?

He had very soon realized that there was a hierarchy, and he now knows that nobody gets away with trying to instate themselves as superior to the rest without Castiel’s say so. And he hasn’t given Dean permission to do anything to Gordon. Dean is fed up.

Waitaminute.

Is he expecting Dean to ask him for permission?

His brain readily supplies images of him kneeling while Castiel looms over him, saying “Break Dick’s dick.”

Okay.

If that’s what Castiel wants, Dean is going to do that. But he also wants Dean to be scared of him, doesn’t he? He wants Dean to trip and blush around him. Well, Castiel the King has another thought coming, because Dean Winchester does not blush and yield to anyone, he doesn’t live by anyone’s expectations.

Dean Winchester also ignores certain facts, such as how he flushes every single time Castiel looks at him appraisingly.

--

Castiel looks up, surprised, when Dean comes over to stand in front of him. A ghost of a smile spreads over his face, slowly, very slowly, almost not there at all. He raises an eyebrow as Dean fidgets slightly.

"Well?" He finally prompts.

"Oh. Oh, yeah! Um. I. Well... Er. I don't know!" And Dean Winchester runs back to where he was earlier.

Castiel's grin widens almost imperceptibly, but then falls off his face when Dean turns to look at him again, cups a hand to his mouth, and shouts across the room.

"Can I be your bitch?"

--

Dean whines, the sound coming out high-pitched. Castiel doesn't slow down, instead, he chooses to slam into the other man harder, making him let out more unintelligible noises.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it? Wanted my cock in you from the day you saw me. Don't think I didn't know that. I know everything." Castiel growls into his ear.

They've gathered an audience, other prisoners who came over to watch the proceedings sometime ago, but neither Dean nor Castiel particularly cares about them. It even makes the experience ten times better.

"I've been noticing you, getting aroused every single time, shuddering, fucking shuddering around me. Did you think I didn't see, pretty boy?"

Dean moans, and tries to form a sentence that doesn't involve wails leaving his throat. "I- oh fuck- I know you sa- aww me. I saw you too-" And he trails off again as he groans.

Castiel snaps the waistband of the pink lace panties Dean is wearing against his waist, and the younger man whimpers slightly, as the elastic drags over the part of him that Castiel's been clawing at for the entirety of the time they've spent like this. Perhaps Dean isn't the only one who enjoys satin and lace.

They would probably have achieved completion if Dick hadn't decided to cockblock them.

"Fucking slut is enjoying this, isn't he? Faggot."

Dean freezes, because oh my god, he did not just go there. Just because Dean likes wearing panties does not mean he is gay. No fucking way. Like, okay, yeah, he is kinda gay (read: kinda sorta hella gay) but that has nothing to do with him wearing panties.

"Fuckin' tranny."

And that does it.

He is glad that Castiel knows when to pull out, because one moment later, Dean has lunged across the room, uncaring of his jumpsuit's lowers that are halfway down his thighs and the water that is still pelting down on him from the showerhead, and slammed a hand on Dick's throat, effectively pinning him against the wall in a chokehold.

The other inmates look on, clearly interested in the turn of events. As Dean comes impossibly close to Dick's face, seemingly about to do something (secretly they all hope to get some dean-on-dick action, quite literally), they hold in their breaths.

"Hey, baby, drop Dick to the floor!" Gabriel screeches in a falsetto voice, shattering the ominously quiet atmosphere. The song reference, coupled with the usage of Dean's name for Roman gets everyone out of their silence. A few snorts break the quietude.

Dick tries to shake Dean off, but Dean doesn't budge. He groans slightly, but pushes the other man harder against the wall. The crowd cheers raucously, egging both the D's on to do something, anything, to provide entertainment.

What Dean does surprises them. He doesn't hit Dick, he doesn't hold Dick tightly in his grasp. (Sic.) Instead, he reaches behind the cornered man, and slaps his butt.

Yep. He slaps his butt.

And moves back nonchalantly, as if he hasn't just humiliated a prisoner who has been ridiculing him for the past few weeks.

Dick surges forward, fire blazing in his eyes. Dean has turned his back to the man, and is thus unaware of the movement, and he would probably have got shoved into the same wall had Castiel not decided to act.

The unofficial leader of the prison slams the anatomical man against the wall (it groans under the pressure) and whispers something. And then draws a hand back and slaps him across the face.

"Do you fucking seriously think that just because Dean wears ladies' undergarments doesn't mean he's a pussy. He's my kitten, but not a pussy. Got that, fuckerbitch? No go on your damn way. Bloody bigot. Fuckin' faggot." He sneer-sings the last two words, mimicking Roman's earlier 'observations' of Dean, and lands a solid kick to his knee, sending him crumpling to his knees.

Moving back, he gestures to the man on the ground, giving free rein to anyone interested in beating the shit out of him. It's Dean who steps forward.

"So do you think that I'm fragile just because I wear pink panties? Well guess what, Dick, wearing manly colors doesn't make you manly. Nope. Pink lace is as good as black if a guy is truly not a pansy."

"And anyway," Castiel pipes up, "Pink lace is the new black."

--

Whatever happens after that has to be left to the imagination, but afterwards, Dean and Castiel resume their ceremony of pledging loyalty, and they eventually come, Castiel in an ass (Dean's), and Dean on a dick. On Dick, actually. And they laugh a lot at the man's protests and empty threats.

Later, when Dick's face vaguely resembles the French flag, a blue, white and red mess, Castiel replies to his slurs about Dean's panties with more laughter.

After that, Dean drops to his knees (been doing that a lot today), offers his neck in submission, and Castiel bites it. No kinky werewolf sex ensues, but only because they're both human. The proposal and its acceptance is done with without a single word, and the perverted onlookers whistle and cheer. But then Dean says something (which is quite redundant since he's already the Property of Castiel the King)- "Castiel, PLEASE let me be your lil fucktoy." And Castiel gladly agrees, finally kissing him.

They seem to be working backwards, fucking first, kissing later, but no one particularly cares, least of all the friendly and loyal voyeurs.

--

The words "CASTIEL PLEASE LET ME BE YOUR LIL FUCKTOY" become a running joke, often used in the presence of the newbies.

No one ever mentions the fact that Dean was a bit of a dick by calling poor Wolfrick Dick.

The wall becomes a special place for prisoners to propose (even criminals and murderers deserve their happy endings), Castiel stops 'protecting' people, Dean stops wearing panties- but only because most of the time he can be found on Castiel's dick (not that one) clothless and screaming, and also creaming.

Life is good at West County Prison.

But then Sam comes along and Dean has to go.