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Deserving It

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Cas startled awake, heart beating quickly for reasons he couldn’t place.  The blankets around his bare chest fell away as he shot up in bed, eyes scanning the bare motel room for anything that might be causing this feeling of wrongness that was twisting in his gut, for whatever was causing him to shiver in the heat of summer.  Spotting nothing in the darkness, he inhaled deeply and sighed, rubbing his hands across his tired face as he lowered himself slowly back down onto the pillow, only to cry out and shoot back up when instead of a pillow he felt a denim-clad leg beneath his head.

Whirling around, he saw Dean, who had somehow smugly perched himself between Cas and the headboard without Cas noticing.

“Hiya Cas,” Dean purred, his voice sickly-sweet in tone. Taking advantage of Cas’s shock, he lashed out at Cas with demonic speed, a blade glinting in the faint light of the room.  Cas’s eyes had begun to glow a fierce blue, but he was not quick enough in reacting to avoid getting knocked onto his back.  He grasped at Dean’s wrists and grappled with him for the angel blade he held.  Dean’s fist roughly collided with Cas’s jaw and mouth, busting his lip.  Dizziness buzzed in Cas’s head at the impact, but he soon recovered enough to plant a powerful kick into Dean’s gut, sending him flying back towards the headboard.  It thudded loudly against the wall when Dean came crashing into it with unnatural force.

Cas immediately lunged for the blade hanging loosely in Dean’s hand, and just like that, Dean was pinned against the headboard with a knife pressed against his throat, daring him to move even an inch.  Cas could see his glowing eyes reflected onto Dean’s black ones, and vaguely he noticed that they were both panting from the exertion.  The light faded from Cas’s eyes and Dean smirked up at him and blinked, banishing the darkness from his eyes.

With a flurry of motion, Cas tossed the blade onto the bedside table and reached under his pillow producing a pair of rune-etched leather handcuffs.  In the same motion he switched his and Dean’s positions and pushed Dean face-first into the mattress.  Dean struggled as Cas pushed his knee into Dean’s spine and forced his wrists into the cuffs, but finally stilled when he realized that Cas had trapped him, his powers nullified by the magic embedded in the runes around his wrists. 

Suddenly furious, Cas yanked on Dean’s hair and pulled him up sharply, leaning down to state, coldly, “You shouldn’t have come here,” into Dean’s ear.  He made sure his knee was still jabbing painfully into Dean’s back to punctuate his words.

Dean grunted and smiled up at Cas, eyes full of equal parts venom and cockiness. “What, aren’t you happy to see me?”

Cas clenched his teeth and flipped Dean onto his back just so he could punch that expression, familiar and yet so wrong, off the demon’s face.  He landed a second blow for good measure before easing up and settling for twisting his fist into the front of Dean’s shirt.  Dean just smiled up at him again, teeth bloody.  “You know I like it rough, angel,” Dean growled, his voice low and rough. Cas looked down and finally saw the erection that was bulging in Dean’s pants.

Cas felt ice shoot through his veins and had to look away.  It was true, he and Dean had played with bondage and pain in the years before the Mark had taken over, but that had been cathartic.  Dean needed to let go, to lose control, and Cas needed to feel like he could control something, if even for just one night.  This was certainly not that. 

Cas was considering duct taping his mouth shut to keep him from spewing more poison, or calling Sam, or binding his legs together, or running far, far away and never coming back, but Dean spoke again before he could act on any of these thoughts.  “Don’t you miss fucking me, Cas?”

“You’re not the man I pulled from hell,” Cas spat back.  “You’re not the man I’ve slept with and beside countless times before.” You’re not the man I am deeply, terribly in love with. “You’re not Dean.”

Dean stared up at him for a moment, expression softening almost imperceptibly.  “You do miss it, then.”

“I won’t—“

He was cut off by Dean once more.  “I’ll make you a deal, angel,” he started, and Cas returned him with an expression of pure anger.  “You’re going to have your wicked way with me, just like old times, get that rush of power I know you’re craving, and—this is the important part—get me off, and in return, I’ll pretend I’m still human for you.”  When he received no response from Cas, he continued.  “I know how badly you miss the old me, Castiel.  When we’re done here, you’ll still get to take me off to Sam to, what, turn me human again?  But why should you wait until then, when you know that might kill me?”  At this Cas’s eyes darkened.   “Why take that risk of never seeing the old me again, when you can have it right now, just like it used to be?”

Cas remained quiet, staring down at Dean’s bruised face, for what seemed like several minutes.  Dean was sure he was going to be refused when Cas finally gave him his response.

“Yes, but I have conditions.”

Dean didn’t even try to hide the smug satisfaction that shot through him at that, and Cas hated him for it.  “What might those be?”

“I get to tell you when to act like… when to act like him.”  Cas couldn’t call this creature Dean, and his voice betrayed just a hint of trepidation.  “I do miss Dean,” he admitted quietly, “but I have no small amount of frustration with you that I would like to work out first.” 

Dean groaned at the thought of finally getting what he wanted out of Cas.  “We have a deal.”

They stared into each other’s eyes for a beat before Cas tore Dean’s shirt open with hungry fingers and bit down hard onto Dean’s neck.  Dean gasped and smiled, savoring the pain, his cock already twitching in interest. 

“Disobey me,” growled Cas as he worked Dean’s pants off his legs, “and I’ll make you suffer.  Do you understand me, demon?”  The words yanked a shudder from Dean, who nodded and shifted so that Cas could pull his jeans completely off his legs.  No sooner had the pants hit the floor than Cas was back on top of Dean, pushing him down into the mattress so that his bound wrists were jammed painfully against his back.  Now Cas’s hands were scrunched in Dean’s hair once again, tugging harshly to expose the smoothness of Dean’s neck.  Miniscule specks of blood welled up where teeth met flesh there, and Dean just moaned with satisfaction.  After all, where else could he have found someone so full of rage at him that they would treat him this roughly?

The brief onslaught stopped for a moment as Cas pulled barely away, still baring Dean’s neck before him.  “Don’t move,” he ordered, disappearing off the bed for only a second and returning with his tie in hand.  Cas forced Dean’s mouth open and gagged him with his tie, tying it in a tight knot behind Dean’s head.  A moan ripped through Dean’s throat as he tested the gag, and found his cries stifled by it.  “Quiet,” Cas bit, punctuating his sentence by digging his fingers into Dean’s thigh, leaving angry red marks in his wake. “Our deal was that I would give you an orgasm.  That doesn’t mean I won’t make you earn it,” he said coldly to the man lying prone beneath him.  Dean was completely hard now, and his chest was beginning to heave.

Cas disappeared from Dean’s vision for a moment before returning with the angel blade and a vial of holy water.  The point he trailed up Dean’s leg, and it came to rest over his quick-beating heart.  He pressed down with enough pressure to draw blood and a hiss from Dean.  Cas halted all motion here, seeming to consider everything, before he drew the blade sharply across Dean’s chest, creating a fine gash.  Dean let out a muffled scream and writhed beneath the blade even as his cock leaked with the hurt it created.  Cas only scowled at the unholy creature that had once been his lover.  “I told you to be quiet,” he warned, before he splashed Dean’s wound with the holy water.  Dean thrashed on the bed, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to withhold another shout, and when he opened his eyes again they were black.

The blade danced across Dean’s bare chest as Castiel contemplated the cold, bitter shame that had settled in his gut from the very moment that he made this deal.  It felt like guilt, but it was too angry to be complete shame.  It was too satisfying to watch this creature struggle and heave while he tortured it, too easy to accept that it wanted this, that its cock was twitching despite, perhaps even because of, all the pain.  It was too hard to remember that this really was Dean, that this was what he had, through his choices, become. 

A firm kick to his leg pulled Cas from his contemplative stupor.  Dean was red-faced, his chest heaving and covered with cuts.  He seemed to be trying to speak through his gag.  Castiel sighed and set the knife aside.  “I’m not actually going to kill you, you know,” he informed Dean, who was glaring at him, his length quickly going soft from too much pain.  Another splash of holy water sent blood running down Dean’s sides and elicited another muffled cry from the demon.  “That was for kicking me.  Now get on your knees.” 

The mattress creaked as Dean struggled to a position on his knees from where he had lain on his back.  Impatient, Cas pulled him up by his hair and then promptly shoved Dean’s face down into the mattress so that his ass was in the air.  Dean’s grunts turned into groans of anticipation as he felt Cas sidle up behind him and line himself up behind Dean.  Pain tinged with pleasure shocked through Dean as Cas began stretching him out with nothing but spit for lubricant, fingers added one after another too quickly, meant to hurt.  Cas’s fingers had just begun prodding Dean’s prostate when Cas grunted out, “I’m going to fuck you, and you’re not going to come until I let you.”  A drop fell from Dean’s length onto the blood-stained sheets.  He felt so sharply the sting of his cuts and the ache of his bruised face and it felt so good, better than pain had any right to be.  Vaguely Dean wondered if it felt this good because he might have felt, as a human, that he deserved to suffer. 

All thoughts were obliterated from his mind as Castiel pushed into him and began to thrust, each movement sending equal parts pain and pleasure through Dean.  As Cas continued to pound into him, he felt, for the first time as a demon, faint fear at what would happen to him if he couldn’t hold back his own orgasm, and he moaned into his gag and clenched around Cas at this realization.  Cas was beginning to pant now, and was digging his fingers bruisingly hard into Dean’s hips, holding him steady as he fucked into him. 

It wasn’t long before Cas was pulsing with orgasm, his seed shooting hot into Dean.  Dean shuddered and canted his hips back into Cas in a futile effort for more pleasure.  Allowing himself only time to catch his breath, Cas quickly pulled out of Dean and flipped him onto his back once more.  Cas wrapped his fingers lightly around Dean’s throat, applying only enough pressure to intimidate, and said, “I’m going to take this gag off of you, and when I do, you’re going to act like the human you’re not.”

At these words, Dean flicked the color back into his eyes and nodded.  He made a deal, and he was going to hold up his end of it.  Slowly, Cas removed Dean’s gag and tossed it to the side.  They simply stared at each other until Dean croaked out a broken, “Cas, please,” and Cas immediately melted, sighing and leaning down into Dean’s lips to kiss them, soft and busted as they were.  Tenderly he took Dean’s hard length in his hand and began stroking it just the way he knew would tear Dean apart.  He was so gentle now, so caring, so loving, and although Dean could feel the pleasure building up inside him like a wave, he hated this.  The demon inside him hated this kindness, this tenderness.  He wanted this to hurt, wanted to feel Castiel’s anger, his hatred, his unforgiveness.  Yet instead, he was met with gentle strokes and soft-murmured vows of love, and he was forced to act like he loved it, because as a human, he would have loved it, even though now he felt disgusted by the sudden affection. 

He came with a whimper as Cas stroked his hair and held him through the aftershocks, shushing him and pressing soft kisses to his neck.  Seeking out the pain, Dean tried to feel the sting of the cuts on his chest but was met with empty frustration when he saw that he had been completely healed.  Inwardly he sighed.  This had been going so well, too. 

“Cas,” Dean whispered as Cas stroked his cheek with this thumb, “please, man, take these cuffs off.  I wanna touch you so bad,” he pleaded, and felt Cas go rigid beside him.

“No.  We had a deal.”

Dean sighed and shook his head.  “Well then, angel, you should have been more careful with your keys.”  With a blink he was gone, leaving behind nothing but handcuffs, bloodstains, and an angel too bereft to move.