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“Ah, yes, your prize awaits you in your chambers.”
Dean looked up at King Michael, almost surprised. There had been times, previously, when the king had seen fit to reward his leadership and prowess in battle by sending him a body to share his bed; a man or woman who had thought it an honor to be had by the king’s greatest general, to soothe and comfort him after the trials of battle. Only when Michael was very pleased, of course, and today he seemed very pleased. Quite unsurprisingly; after all, today’s battle had decided the fate of the war they’d been waging for months, and it was due to Dean that they were victorious.
“Thank you, your highness.” He bowed before leaving and making the winding way through the palace corridors to his chambers. It was crowded even at this late hour, the nobles of court reveling in the victory or, more likely, hoping for a glimpse (or more) of the days’ heroes. Several ladies nodded and smiled at him on the way (Lady Bela looked like she wanted to have him against that wall in the corridor) and some men eyed him appreciatively too. He ignored them today. Another day, perhaps, he might’ve taken the time to flirt and charm his way into a bedchamber, but tonight he was too tired for the effort, however minimal it might be. And besides, his prize awaited. For all that Michael seemed utterly uninterested in anything that might happen in the bedchamber, his previous rewards to Dean had been more than satisfying. He had always found himself in a willing embrace, with whoever shared his bed intent on soothing his body and showering undivided attention.
He closed the door to his chambers, locking it for good measure, and stopped in his tracks at what he saw.
“Holy - “ he began in surprise, though his mouth refused to finish the phrase.
There was a man on his bed, except that Dean would’ve sworn he was more than a mere mortal man. He knelt naked on the bed, confronting Dean with a lithe, slender, yet muscular form. The lines of his body were full of grace, but they did not belie the strength beneath. His skin was warm, suntanned, and it looked smooth as marble where it stretched over his muscular body. His hair was dark, just long enough for Dean to think about gripping it tight and pulling it back, causing those full, perfect lips to open in surprise. The man raised his eyes (a piercing blue) and a look of surprise seemed to flit across his elegant features, fading as quickly as it had come.
“My lord,” he said, his voice low and gravelly, and just thinking about how it already sounded as if his throat had been fucked raw was already making Dean hard.
“And who’re you?” he managed to ask.
“Your prize, my lord,” he answered, as if that was the simplest thing in the world. Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at his words, deferential as they were. But if obedience was Castiel’s thing, Dean thought with an internal shrug, he wasn’t averse to going along with it.
“I know that. What’s your name?” he demanded.
“Castiel.”
Dean nodded. That was all he needed. Under other circumstances, he might have taken his time to undress fully, to build the anticipation with lingering touches and too-short kisses, but not now. Today he was too tired from battle, and his body longed for nothing more than to feel the tension flow from his tired limbs in a sweet release. And today he had Castiel, kneeling on his bed and ready for anything Dean desired.
He grabbed Castiel by the hair, tilting his head back, and it was even better than he imagined. His lips parted in surprise, just as Dean had hoped, but the motion of tilting his head back revealed the long line of his throat and neck. Dean itched to place his hand there and squeeze, just a little, only to see the sounds Castiel would make with his airflow constricted, but that wasn’t how he wanted to start.
He crushed their lips together, his hand tightening in Castiel’s hair. Castiel made a low sound somewhere deep in his throat, parting his lips even wider to allow Dean entrance. Dean took him up on the offer, eschewing tentative explorations in favor of claiming Castiel’s mouth, fully and completely. He held Castiel against him (as if he would go anywhere!) while his tongue delved into Castiel’s mouth. Castiel made no more sounds, but his lips responded to Dean’s, kissing back, coaxing more and more from Dean until he had to break away breathlessly.
The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started. It had taken Dean but one look at Castiel to get him half-hard and that one quick kiss to make him fully hard.
“I am prepared,” Castiel explained quickly. “Take me as you wish.”
The words sent a pleasant tingling through Dean, a teasing sort of intoxication at the power Castiel offered him.
“Hands and knees,” he ordered, and Castiel obeyed, arranging his slender, muscular limbs according to Dean’s guidelines. He offered himself up and there seemed little shame in the way that he placed his body for Dean, waiting to be taken. He was indeed ready, Dean saw; he had worked himself open, offering Dean’s body entrance. Dean climbed on the bed behind Castiel; he was still partially clothed, but to hell with it.
With one quick motion, he slid inside. Castiel’s body accepted him, sweet and easy, and Dean groaned in relief. It felt like quenching his thirst after spending days without water or like the warmth of a fire after days spent in freezing winds and cold snows. Like returning his body to its natural state after days of deprivation. He buried himself completely, savoring the feel of Castiel’s body around him.
Below him, Castiel made a low, shocked sound.
“Didn’t think it’d feel this good, did you?” Dean asked. Castiel nodded, quick and curt.
He began to move in quick, sharp thrusts, pulling out almost all the way only to bury himself completely inside Castiel again. Each movement forced a surprised sound from Castiel, from gasps to whimpers to growls, covering the entire spectrum of sound with their variety, and each sound went straight to his cock, spurring him on to drive into Castiel with more force. And Castiel’s body took it all, opened up for him and then enveloped him, warm and tight and sinful, while the obnoxiously decadent sounds spilled from his lips, faster and lower and more desperate. Each movement elicited a new sound, both of them working in tandem to bring Dean closer and closer to his orgasm. He let his hands roam all over Castiel’s body, resting on his thighs to feel the way they trembled at each thrust, holding his hips still as Castiel attempted to move back against him, circling his arms as those trembled, too, with the effort of holding his weight through the onslaught.
“My lord, please….” Castiel begged, and fuck if he didn’t sound wrecked. Dean had thought it sounded wrecked and sinful before, but it was nothing compared to now, gravelly and stuttering and breathless.
“Hey, you’re my prize. That means you take what I give you, understand?”
“Yes – I – please, my lord – “ Castiel’s words tumbled incoherent from his lips, which was all the better, really, since Dean was too caught up in their helpless sounds, their stuttered, breathless syllables to parse the meaning.
He saw as Castiel hang his head, something inside him slackening, weakening. Dean couldn’t have that. Without thinking, he reached forward, tangling his hand in Castiel’s hair again and pulling it back. The effort was worth the sound Castiel let out, yet another addition to his vast spectrum of noises – a gasp that was less surprised than desperate. That’s when Dean was hit with an idea.
He slowed his thrusts into Castiel’s body, just as his body begged him to speed up and sprint to the finish line as quickly and mercilessly as he had begun. But he was not the first general of the kingdom for nothing, and so he forced his body to obey, drawing himself out of Castiel’s body with agonizing slowness before thrusting in with the same speed. Castiel let out something like a sob in response, but no more pleas left his mouth.
Dean took Castiel’s erection in hand and began stroking it, each movement as slow and lethargic as his own thrusts, until Castiel whined in frustration.
“Hey, this is more than you’re supposed to get already,” he told Castiel, and closed his eyes to savor the dissatisfied whimper that Castiel let out. He could tell Castiel was close, not from any tangible sign that he could put his finger on, but from the sum of his movements, all worn out and desperate. And sure enough, it only took a few more movements, long and slow, before Castiel’s body tightened around him (it was all Dean could do not to come there and then) and he spilled himself all over Dean’s hand.
Castiel came with another surprised sound, as if he couldn’t believe this any more than the rest of it.
It was only then that Dean sped up again, his thrusts returning to their initial merciless brutality. Castiel whimpered, his arms shaking, as Dean used his worn out body.
“This is what you get for being so impatient,” Dean told him. He knew how Castiel must feel now, his entire body strung out, used, and too sensitive to be able to feel pleasure as Dean hit that spot inside him that had made Castiel moan contentedly moments ago.
When he came inside Castiel, Dean felt him give a sigh of relief and laughed softly at the sound. They collapsed onto the bed like that, Dean on top of Castiel, savoring the way that the other man’s body trembled below his, in exhaustion and bliss. He waited until Castiel’s body stilled before rolling off of him with a groan and stretching contentedly.
The feather bed accepted his weight happily and he buried his head in the pillow, feeling utterly drained.
“Where did Michael find you?” he asked absently, looking over at Cas’ still frame beside him.
Castiel looked at him, something like confusion flitting through his features, but didn’t answer. Dean shrugged it off – it was a rhetorical question anyway – and pulled Castiel closer to him.
“Want to stay the night?” he murmured sleepily.
“If you wish me to, my lord,” Cas answered. He sounded almost – hopeful.
“Yeah, I do.”
Dean pulled Cas flush against him, which was possibly a terrible idea, because now Castiel’s enticing body is pressed against him, with his ass exactly at Dean’s crotch. Dean sighed, lamenting his exhaustion, and buried his face in Castiel’s skin. He was asleep in minutes, with the last, comforting thought in his conscious mind that there’d be time for another round in the morning.
Castiel fell asleep too, in the embrace of this man that he knew to be as uncompromising in battle as he was in the bedchamber. He wondered, before he drifted off in blissful exhaustion, what his new lord would demand from him in the days to come.