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It's been really confusing and weird, being in a BDSM relationship with his best friend. How it works is this: they'll be working a case, and Cas will look at Dean and just know. He'll take a moment and sneak in a squeeze to the back of his neck, or his thigh, and kiss his cheek or forehead, a soft dry brush of lips and promise: "Later."
Dean's breath will hitch, tension will thrum under his skin, and his pulse will race, but—he'll feel centered, back in the moment, focus honed razor-sharp. Something in him can relax with just that one simple word.
When he's physically too tired, (but mentally falling apart) Cas dream-walks with him, and he wakes up ready to kick ass and deal with another day of the Darkness destroying all he holds good in the world. It is literally the worst, the despair he feels watching people give in to all the blackness, all the awful and bad inside them, is nearly as shitty as that alternative 2014 with the Croatoan virus.
But Cas is whole, here. He's keeping Dean centered, from going off the deep end. He doesn't know how, what exactly it was that changed his angel this much (being "god"? being human? Meg? Purgatory? Dean becoming a demon?) but he's absurdly grateful.
What's really surprising is the lack of shit he gets about it from Sam. It's just after one night when they're particularly loud (lost the gag somewhere) that makes Sam shoot him worried looks all morning before following him into the truck stop bathroom during a coffee run. Dean's washing his hands, admiring the thin purple lines of bruises on his throat—he'd unbuttoned his collar to look—when Sam comes up behind him, shuffling and coughing nervously.
"Dean—" he meets his eyes in the mirror, then they dart down to the bruises and Dean buttons his shirt back up.
"Cas doesn't... hurt you, does he?"
Dean blushes, but tries for a shit-eating grin. "Not in any way I don't want him to, Sammy."
"O-oh. OK. so it's like that." Sam shuffles some more.
"Yeah." Dean straightens the shoulders of his shirt.
"I didn't know." Sam can barely look at him, is giving him the side-eye.
Dean pops his collar and pauses to clap Sam on the back. "Yeah, well, not the kind of thing you're s'posed to. Don't worry about it, and for the love of all that's holy—"Sam snorts—"do not mention it. Really."
Sam turns to look at him. "But what if I have—questions?"
"Oh gross. Figures." Dean puts a hand on the cold metal plate of the bathroom door.
"I can, I can ask Cas, right?" Sam's eyes flutter to his brother's collar and then up to his eyes again.
"Yeah, if he says so. And if you can deal with the—" Dean coughs and rakes a hand through his hair—"the implications. A-anyway, getting the hell out of here. Gotta' vamp nest to slaughter and all." Dean shoves the door open and books it.
Cas is stirring coffee when he gets back to the Impala, and the drag of his tongue on the wooden stir-stick as he pulls it out is enough to make fun things happen in his pants, despite the ball-shriveling conversation he'd just had.
"Dean... you seem flustered. Did something happen with Sam?" Cas's head is tilted, but his gaze is level as he regards his lover.
Dean rubs the back of his neck. "It's nothin' Cas—"
Cas takes a sip out of his cup and then holds Dean's gaze. Dean takes the cue and steps forward, ducking his head a little to take a sip of his own. He feels the angel's greedy gaze on the circlet of bruises as he exposes his neck and flushes bright red. Oh. It's going to be one of those days. He swallows and straightens back up, as Cas runs a thumb along his lower lip.
"Sammy, he, uh, might have some questions. Some dom type questions. Uh, if you feel like answering them." Dean's tongue darts out, chasing coffee and salt from Cas's digit.
"Certainly." Castiel smiles one of his small lop-sided smiles; just a fleeting quirk of the right side of his mouth that nonetheless crinkles both the corners of his eyes.
Dean kisses Cas's thumb and the angel drops his hand. "It's hard, you know? a lot of doms, they feel like freaks. Like they're evil for what they like, you know, control and maybe hurting people? Especially people they care about."
"It's alright," to Dean's unspoken question, Cas smiles, broader than a moment ago. "All I want to do is give you what you need, Dean. And the pleasure—it's, well, dizzying. Intoxicating."
Dean lights up and kisses his angel. "Yeah. Wonder what's keeping Sammy?"
Sam exits the gas station, with slushies for all three of them somehow contained in his huge hands.
"Thanks, Sammy. Not gonna' do much for keeping my girlish figure, but it's been awhile."
Sam shrugs and Castiel chimes in, "Yes Sam, very thoughtful. Thank-you."
"Figured I'd give you guys a minute to talk. And heck, it's summer with a long drive ahead."
"Well, good thinking." They all climb into the Impala, and settle in for the long haul to Vicksburg.
***
One successful, albeit disgustingly messy clearing out of a vampire nest later...
Dean, who got the worst of the mess on him, kicked off his boots carelessly and practically ran for the shower. Cas and Sam are alone, the faded and peeling wallpaper of their motel room the only witness as they share a comfortable silence, removing their shoes.
Sam's eyes dart over to Castiel, looking up at his face and away again. He swallows, takes a stuttering breath and gathers his nerve. A big gulp of air later, he's unzipping his jacket. The sound of the zipper breaks the silence for him, and he finds his resolve. "So, Cas.... um, is it OK if I ask you some stuff?"
Castiel straightens from unlacing his shoes and kicks them off. He checks the pockets of his coat and pulls out sundries, putting them on the dresser as he answers. "The dearth of knowledge I have available is yours to readily access, you need only ask. However, I worry you may grow bored, so please be specific in your requests." The angel starts peeling off his sullied trench coat.
Sam turns a little red, the apples of his cheeks going rosy. "This um, this is about uhh, being a dom. Can you talk about that with me?" He looks down at his feet as he unbuttons his shirt.
Out of the corner of his eye, Castiel regards him cooly, then does one of those slow blinks, coat in hand. "Certainly. Be forewarned, my experience with this is admittedly quite limited in scope."
"So, so Dean is your..." Sam can't make himself finish the sentence. He peels off his plaid shirt.
Castiel tilts his head, then nods. He folds his coat and puts it in their dirty laundry bag. "Yes." He starts working on his socks, stork-like, still standing while he balances on one leg at a time. Sam follows suit, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his.
"When you love someone you... you want to protect them, right? How do you... how do you reconcile that with— with hurting them? On purpose? And... and kind of finding it hot?" He knots his hands together and studies the angel's face carefully, earnestness and curiosity winning out over the little knot of hot shame in his stomach.
"Submission is beautiful. Bringing it out of someone, especially someone strong-willed, there is an art to it. A delicate dance, a fine balance... it is really more about what he needs, and finding the best way to give it to him. That is what I find... "hot", as it were." Castiel favours Sam with a crooked smile as he starts unbuttoning his shirt.
"That makes sense. But how do you tell? How do you tell when it's too much, or too little?" Sam hauls his shirt off over his head, noting with displeasure how it'd tried to stick to him. He notes a bruise forming over his ribs with a wince.
Castiel unbuttons his shirt sleeve and looks at the ichor staining the cuff with distaste.
"I suspect I have a decided advantage, there. It requires a lot of trust, and a lot of communication." He takes off his shirt and folds it, putting it in the laundry bag and then starting in on his undershirt. "Dean is not the best at articulating his feelings, but his heart is not occluded to me the way it would be to another human." He hauls the undershirt off as well and tucks it into the bag, too.
Sam bites his lip and looks away. "Oh... yeah, that makes sense." He scratches at the back of his neck for a moment and sighs. "It's... it's not the kind of thing you can get with a one-night stand, huh? I'd have to really have a connection with someone..." He unbuttons his jeans, noting the new hole in the knee with a frown.
"I do not know much about this sort of thing, Sam, but I believe you may be surprised by how advanced some dating sites have gotten. At the very least, you can have some very "toppy" sex with someone you may not know that well."
Sam laughs a little. "Yeah, sure. Thanks, Cas. Seriously though, you wouldn't miss it, miss uh, "domination" if all Dean wanted was normal stuff?" He pushes his jeans off and waits there on the bed in his boxers; contemplates crawling in under the covers while he waits what's probably going to be a long time.
"I believe I would. There is a certain satisfaction to be gained from having the upper hand on Dean so thoroughly. I enjoy crossing his barriers, breaking him down, having him raw and reduced to his baser instincts. Vulnerable to his deepest, most locked away desires..." Cas's eyes look stormy, something struggling to come to the surface. "Telling him he is good. Telling him he is beautiful." His expression softens into something fond and slightly sad. "He will not accept such sentiments at any other time. He just deflects them and gets embarrassed, if not outright angry."
"Yeah," Sam shuffles a little. "I know he'll swear he isn't until he's blue in the face, but Dean is the touchy-feely type. I guess I shouldn't be shocked that he can only accept praise when he feels like he's, um, earning it, right?"
"Yes. There is a little more to it than that, but in general you have the right of it." Castiel unbuttons his slacks and pushes them off, then folds them as carefully as all of his other clothing that will later need ironing and puts them away. His eyes flash with mirth. "Now if you'll excuse me, I believe I need to clean myself of this filth and press your brother into some cold tile." His grin is positively wicked, and Sam laughs, wrinkling his nose.
"Eww. Whatever. Just spare a thought and some hot water for me, ok?"
Castiel smiles at the younger Winchester fondly. "Of course."
***
It's later. They've made it back to the bunker, and to the privacy of Dean’s room.
"Dean," Cas growls, low and urgent. His hands are buried in the hunter's hair, rubbing the lines of his skull like a worry-stone.
Dean pulls off of Cas's cock, licks the tip gently while looking up at him through his eyelashes. "Yes, sir?"
"I'm going to fuck you now." Castiel's gaze is dark and stormy, Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he holds Dean's gaze.
"'K." Dean sits back on his heels and waits. A bare instant later, Castiel is positioning him like a doll, beautiful well-formed hands pulling him this way and that, pushing down on the small of his back, the vulnerable gap between his shoulder blades. It makes Dean so hard his dick leaks, and he feels an ache in his teeth from clenching his jaw, biting down on embarrassing noises that try to escape his lips.
"Cas," he whines, and gets a hard slap across the meaty flesh of his ass for his trouble. Dean groans, hips thrusting into thin air, and Cas follows up by stroking the dimple of his left cheek with his thumb. Dean whines again, and Cas slaps him again, harder. "Cas, Cas please—"
"So greedy," his angel murmurs, sinking down to kiss and lick the dimple of his right cheek before skimming his lips up over the thin skin of his hip bones.
"Be patient and be a good boy for me, Dean. I know you can be." Cas drags his teeth over the curve of his hip and slaps him just to the left of the prior blow. Dean's hips stutter and he pants, wanting, needing to please his lover.
"Such a good boy, Dean. Yes, you're being so good for me." Cas slaps him on the right side, and now his ass is on fire, blood having risen all across the surface.
"So beautiful. You're so beautiful, Dean." Cas reaches between his spread legs and presses his thumb to his entrance. His tongue licks a hot stripe down Dean's tailbone.
Dean gasps. "Cas, Christ, I'm, I'm gonna' die if you don't—"
Cas slaps him hard on his left ass-cheek, and he hisses, feeling the bruise forming. Cas reaches around, puts his thumb into Dean's mouth; he hooks it in, under the tongue, and gives his head a little shake. Dean whimpers in arousal. Cas presses a kiss to the base of his skull before settling back onto his knees and ordering: "Suck."He moves his thumb up over the top of Dean's tongue, and the hunter complies; greedily licking, sucking, swirling his tongue around in mimicry of how he'd just been worshiping his lover's penis.
"Good boy, Dean, very good." Cas smooths a hand over the inflamed, reddened skin on Dean's ass, causing him to arch his back and groan. "Mm. Get sloppy, get it nice and wet for me."
Dean obeys, nodding his head forward so Cas's thumb prods at his gag reflex, causing thicker and slimier spit to come up. Tears in his eyes, he taps on Cas's wrist to get his attention as a thin stream of drool trickles out of the corner of Dean's mouth.
"Good, very good. Excellent." Cas withdraws his thumb, and drops a kiss in-between his shoulder blades as he presses his finger to Dean's entrance. The hunter whimpers and spread his legs wider, earning him another slap to the right. Dean rocks forward with the blow and curses himself.
"Oh, Dean... and you were doing so well. Now I'm going to have to draw this out even longer." Cas presses in his thumb, then re-arranges himself until he's underneath his lover; his dick is sticking up, at an angle from his abdomen and nearly in Dean's face. Dean drools down onto it, feverish with lust, wanting oh so bad to have Cas in his mouth again.
"Be still," Cas orders. So instead, Dean clenches his fists into the sheets as his angel licks around where his thumb is sunk into his asshole.
"Cas, Cas, please, please, I'll be good, just God, please fuck me."
Cas tsks, hits him on the right again, layering the blow to encourage bruising. "You'll be good, what?"
"I'll be good, Sir."
Cas chuckles. "It would not do well to encourage such disobedience." He removes his thumb. "Shut up and take it," he growls, then shoves his tongue straight into Dean's too empty opening. Dean jolts like he's been struck with a live wire, like that time back in his first year with Sammy and his heart had stopped, that would've killed him for the first time. He whines as he struggles to stay silent and bitterly misses the lost gag. Cas fucks him relentlessly with his tongue, and Dean fights with every fibre of his being not to fuck back, not to bend the scant inches it would take to get Cas's beautiful thick cock—rosy and heavy where it curves on top of its small nest of curls— back into his mouth. Dean is falling apart, is zoning out, and then Cas is sliding a finger in alongside his tongue, jabbing his prostate and Dean gasps, jaw falling open as he arches in pleasure.
The blow comes from the left—a huge harsh slap that rocks his body so hard Dean's head nearly hits the wall—then the sore, red flesh left in its wake is being rubbed, making his breath hitch. "Naughty. You will never finish training at this rate. But that is what I've always loved most about you, Dean, your blatant defiance of doing what you're told in favour of what feels right."
Castiel pushes three lubed up fingers into Dean, and the hunter swears.
This strike is from the right, mostly palm and it hurts. Knowing he'll feel the for-sure multiple bruises every time he sits down for the next week as his lover presses in on that so sensitive bundle of nerves is nearly enough to make Dean blow his load right then and there.
Cas gets out from under him and Dean whimpers high in his throat, reedy and desperate as those magical pianist fingers are removed. He hooks two fingers inside of Dean's mouth, leading him by the jaw; the hunter follows in his wake, twisting around until he's kneeling the other way, facing the foot of the bed. Kneeling on his heels before him, Castiel's blue eyes are dark, pupils blown wide. He licks his lips slowly, then grabs his lover's hair in his fist, bringing him down in a clash of mouths that clacks their teeth together. After a long moment of this where they chase each-other's tongues, the slide of their lips softens into something sweeter but no less hot. Dean climbs down a bit from his near delirious levels of arousal and they break apart, panting.
His angel smiles at him, filthy, loose-lipped and showing teeth, hair even messier than usual. He turns sideways to sit on the edge of the bed, then grabs the lube from where it fell on the comforter and spurts it into his hand. Dean watches him in profile, entranced, still crouched on all fours. The angel lubes up his dick, then pats his thighs. Dean swallows, but stays still and waits, hands sweating into the sheets in his white-knuckled grip.
Cas's dick is all slick and shiny, glistening in the backlight of the lone bulb over the sink and mirror.
"Come sit on daddy's lap, Dean."
Dean groans and his dick spasms. It hits his thigh as he scrambles forward to comply. "Yes, sir." He turns to face Castiel, straddling his thighs. He's flushed hot, and it's hard to look him in the eye, so freaking hard to be vulnerable and open.
"Good boy, beautiful boy." Castiel smiles, intense, showing all of his teeth. Dean swallows and darts a glance up as he hovers above Cas's lap, lines himself up while the angel holds his dick in place. "Come. Sink right down onto that hard-on that's weeping for you, beloved."
Dean bites down on his lip as he lowers himself, and Cas presses up. He groans at the breach. "Cas."
Castiel places a steadying hand on his shoulder, right over where his mark used to be; he groans, the first of many desperate noises the elder Winchester hopes to wring out of his angel. "Dean, oh Dean, so good, so beautiful..." Dean keeps pushing and then he's flush to the angel's lap, as much of him as he can get inside once Cas draws his hand away. He brings it up to cradle the base of Dean's skull and pushes their foreheads together. They share breaths, gasping.
"Oh Cas, oh I fucking love you, Castiel."
"I know." A weak laugh escapes Dean and he kisses the angel's cheek. They hold each-other and exchange slow, open-mouthed kisses as Dean grinds on Castiel's lap, hands on his shoulders for leverage.
"You—you are—you're the only good thing that's ever happened to me," Dean gasps out, hands lacing together behind his angel's neck.
"Shh.... I know, baby, I know." Castiel kisses him soft and tender. "In all of God's creation it is you I most love. Nearly blasphemously." Cas's hand skims down his back, stroking down his spine, then digs into his ass. "You may fuck me, Dean."
The hunter shudders and gasps, then puts his thighs to work, riding Cas in long, slow strokes. Cas reaches between them, sucking a bruise under Dean's jaw as he takes his lover in hand. Dean cries out, pumps his hips and thighs frantically, feels them burning alongside his ass—which is on fire as they rut furiously.
"Dean. Oh God Dean, you feel so good. So good around me and hard in my hand. You're leaking, did you know that? I can feel it, feel you throbbing in my hand and around me, see all your nerves alight and hear the rush of blood, the pounding of your heart, all of it in syncopated rhythm with the thrusts we make."
Dean is only capable of making pathetic animalistic noises as he feels the push and pull of flesh, feels Cas's heartbeat through his dick, through where it pulses at his neck, under his laced hands, the thrum of his grace close to the surface, a vibration like the Impala tearing down the highway . "Please, please sir, can I come?"
"Yes, beloved, yes."
Dean bites down hard on his lip to choke off a scream as he orgasms, thick lines of ejaculate running all over Cas's fist and painting their chests. Cas bites down on his shoulder, muffling a blasphemy as he shoots off his load into Dean's ass.
"So good for me. Such a good boy, Dean." Cas kisses up his face and Dean breaks his grip; they sit for awhile, just clinging onto each other fiercely. Cas cups the side of Dean's face and kisses him so slow and tender it makes his chest ache. "Come what may, I will forever remain by your side."
The hunter surges forward, bumping Cas's nose with his own in his haste. He gets a hand in the angel's hair and tugs, adjusting the angle to kiss him passionately. When they break for air, Dean whispers, "Forever?"
"Always." Cas smiles and grips him tight.
***
A little while later, Dean is drifting near the edge of sleep, warm and safe in Castiel’s arms when he remembers. “Hey Cas, how’d it go with Sammy?” The hunter yawns hugely. Castiel cups the side of his face and drops a kiss on his forehead. His hands still smell like tiger balm he'd rubbed into Dean's sore behind.
“It went smoothly. As you said, he was having some difficulty coming to grips with arousal borne of inflicting pain on someone you care for.”
Dean scrunches his eyes shut and files that info away into a little box in his head that says Do not open. Keep locked and inside a bigger box. With chains. Then he pictures that. “So, what’d you tell him, then?”
“That it was more about being turned on by what turns you on. That having you vulnerable is…immensely satisfying.”
With a scowl, Dean turns his head and bites down on the meaty flesh on the side of Castiel’s hand. “Dude!”
Castiel gives him a long-suffering sigh, and flicks him in the nose. Dean flinches and sighs. “Yeah I know. I said this might happen, yada yada. Whatever. Still embarrassing as hell.”
“There is really no reason to be ashamed.” Castiel pulls Dean’s hand up to his mouth, and kisses across the backs of his knuckles lightly.
The elder Winchester squirms,"Dude, it’s Sam. You think he really needs more dirt on me?”
“He will love you regardless, Dean. It is who Sam is,” the angel sucks and nips at the pad of his lover’s index finger.
“Nah, man, I mean… he’s got so much damn ammo to make fun of me, now. I’m still waiting for the freaking hammer to drop.” Dean frowns, eyes seeking the familiar curves of the weapons up on his walls.
“I highly doubt that is going to happen.” Castiel traces the frown with his thumb.
“Why?”
“You sincerely think Sam will begrudge you anything that brings you happiness? Especially now?” He strokes his thumb along Dean’s jaw line, to the back of his neck.
“It’s not that. It’s just, I don’t know... “ Dean leans into the touch, tilting his head to the side for better access.
Castiel gently rubs his thumb in small circles up and down the base of his lover’s neck. “Sam willingly drank demon blood and had sex with a demon. Repeatedly. Somehow, I believe he thinks your sexual “quirks” pale in comparison.”
“Speaking of sex with a demon,” Dean takes a deep breath, “Did you and Meg ever… you know? Make the beast with two backs? The horizontal tango? Play hide the salami—” Cas bites down on Dean’s finger and the latter yelps. He laves the bite with a slow sweep of his tongue and then lets the finger out of his mouth.
“No. She— pleasured me, sometimes, but I could not stay aroused. She was very beautiful, and became very dear to me, during—” Castiel swallows thickly before continuing—“During that terrible time in the hospital. But that place and time were wrong, and she was unwilling to push me further while I was in that state of mind.”
Dean winces and jokes, “She didn’t, you know, slip you a little blue pill, now and then?”
“No… she was quite fond of me in her own way. The…the very last time I saw her, I believe she propositioned me on condition of her return, and I said yes. Whether it was yes I understood, or yes, I accept, I do not know, even now…” Castiel’s voice has gone tight with grief, and Dean twists around to drop gentle kisses on both of his cheeks and chin.
“Shh… it’s ok, Baby. She went where Crowley couldn’t hurt her anymore.”
“What happened, Dean? You never really said…” The angel continues kneading at the base of Dean’s skull, restless.
Dean sighs and turns onto his back, stares up at the ceiling. “She held Crowley off for us. We were in the car and there was no way to do a damn thing. She stayed behind so we could get away. It was really goddamn shitty.” I gotta’ try and do something, I hate it when he feels this way. Guilty. Sad. It freaking sucks. It’s already so damn hard for him to crack a smile, as-is. “It’s just as well. I’m not the sharing type.” The hunter climbs on top of the angel, straddling him, bodies flush hip to chest, and kisses him sloppily, with lots of tongue.
Castiel huffs a little laugh into the kiss, and just takes it, pressing back with his lips and nothing else.
“I believe Meg wished to give to me, what I give to you. She stayed by my side for months, tending to me. It wasn’t just that I kept her safe from other demons…”
Dean’s skin prickles, his hair standing on end. Meg, topping Cas? Why is that… why is that kinda’ hot? Goosebumps break out all over his skin, and he represses the urge to scratch at them. Heebs. This is just givin’ me the ol’ heebie-jeebies.
“She watched me in my self-induced punishment. She saw it all. I know she wanted me to forget… well, everything. I think she wanted to take me apart and put me back together again… I—Well, I understand that feeling, now.” Cas smiles up at him, that smile that’s only just for Dean, and his heart thunders beneath his ribs.
Dean swallows thickly and kisses Cas gently. “Yeah, I bet you do.” His jaw cracks around a huge yawn. “G’night, Cas.” I love you. And really, there’s nothing weird about it at all. The way Dean slides back down and slots into Castiel’s side, head on his shoulder. The way they curl around each-other, keeping warmth between them and the darkness at bay. The way Dean feels, and the way Castiel just knows.
Right on the edge of sleep, the last thing Dean hears before he drops into the void: “I love you, too.”