Fic: Imprint
Title: Imprint
Author: discreetmath
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Explicit sex, rimming.
Word Count: 1850
Summary: After a one night stand he can't seem to remember, Dean can't bring himself to sleep with anyone else. And believe him, he's tried. The reason isn't at all what he was expecting.
A/N: Betaed by haughtymelodic. Written for this Blindfold_SPN prompt.
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Dean's first thought upon waking is that whoever left the curtains open is going to die a slow and painful death. He feels like someone spent the night traipsing around on his head, and the late morning sun isn't helping matters. Closely following that, he has the overwhelming feeling that he had some seriously life-changing sex last night. He can't seem to remember who it was with, but judging by the residual ache in his ass he can at least draw a conclusion or two. He's immensely grateful when he remembers having booked separate motel rooms the previous day.
He grudgingly rolls out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom. One long, hot shower later, and he's feeling slightly more equipped to face the outside world. He finds his phone on the nightstand and calls Sam, more than ready to get out of there.
---
A few nights later, they've stopped off at a roadside dive. Sam's in the corner on his laptop, and Dean's chatting up a well-endowed blonde at the bar. Things seem to be going pretty smoothly until she puts her hand on his thigh and leans in close.
"Ready to get out of here, baby?" she purrs in his ear.
Images flash before his eyes of this hot chick underneath him, spread out and naked, and Dean shudders unpleasantly. The woman, Amy or Angie or something, frowns in concern and slides her other hand up to the side of Dean's neck. He jerks backward out of her grasp, sliding out of his stool and backing away quickly.
"What the hell," she says, "What is your problem?"
Dean shakes his head quickly, mumbling an apology and heading back over to the table. Sam's giving him an inscrutable look, and he responds with a quelling glare. He's still feeling a bit nauseous, and he'd rather not think about why, thanks.
---
Unfortunately, this isn't a one-time incident. Over the next two weeks, he tries hooking up with three different women. Different types, different looks, different locations. Every time, when faced with the prospect of actually getting laid Dean can't feel anything but revulsion.
It's not like he's not horny, because fuck is he horny. He's been jerking off in the shower more than usual, but even that just doesn't seem to be taking the edge off of the weird, indefinable need he's been feeling.
Needless to say, at this point he's feeling pretty desperate. Remembering the last time he actually had sex, he figures he's going about this the wrong way. So even though he makes a point not to pick up dudes when Sam's around, tonight he sets his sights on a tall, dark-haired guy playing pool. He lays the groundwork, and it doesn't take long before he knows the guy is interested. He lets himself think that he's finally going to have sex tonight, and that's all it takes to ruin it. This guy is hot, objectively he knows that, but the prospect of fucking him is enough to make him gag.
He leaves the bar in a rush, leaving a pissed-off guy and a bewildered Sam in his wake.
---
By the time he gets back to the room he's at the end of his rope. It's not like he's never gone a few weeks without sex before, but the ever-present need niggling at the back of his mind is driving him crazy. He fishes a bottle of Jack out of his duffel, shrugs out of his jacket, and kicks off his boots before flopping down onto the bed. Drinking himself into a stupor feels like a promising idea at the moment.
A quiet rustling sound has him bolting upright, but he relaxes when he sees Castiel standing by the window. The angel is looking distinctly uncomfortable though. Fidgeting, which is pretty unsettling. Dean realizes with a start that he's rock hard in his jeans. He moves to adjust himself, and he sees Castiel's nostrils flare before he crosses the room to stand in front of the bed.
"I must apologize, Dean," he begins, and his voice is low and unsteady. "I was not aware of the repercussions of our coupling, but I fear the damage has been done."
"Wait, I'm sorry. Our coupling?" Dean racks his brain, trying to figure out what Cas could possibly be talking about, and oh. Oh shit. Cas was his mystery lay?
"I was not aware that the act of intercourse could affect the bond that already exists between my grace and your soul. I acted impulsively, and now we both face the consequences."
"What are you talking about, dude? What bond?" Dean is feeling more lost by the minute, and his pressing arousal isn't helping much.
Castiel slides gracefully to his knees before Dean. "This," he whispers, reaching up and gripping Dean's arm where the handprint scar shows under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Dean moans, he can't help it, that one touch is sending a bolt of heat straight to his cock and he thrusts up helplessly into the air.
"Cas," he whimpers, reaching forward before dropping his hand to his side. "What's going on?"
"When we were together, the bond between us was affected. Changed. We are now, for lack of a better term... mated."
Dean's mouth hangs open, disbelieving. "So, wait. Every time I've tried to have sex since then and couldn't, that's because you mated me?" He doesn't have time to realize his mistake before Cas is bearing him down on the bed, his eyes flashing.
"It is because you are mine," Cas growls, grabbing Dean's wrists and pinning them above his head. "You will not have sex with anyone else. No one else may touch you, do you understand?"
Some distant part of Dean knows that he should be indignant, but instead he's nodding frantically and straining upward, desperate for contact.
"Say it, Dean. Tell me to whom you belong."
"You," Dean whimpers. "Yours. Just, please. Touch me."
Castiel's face turns predatory as he releases Dean's wrists and reaches down to undo his belt. He unbuttons the fly and reaches inside, closing his long fingers around Dean's erection and stroking once. Dean throws his head back and groans in relief. Cas nods, apparently satisfied with this response, and lets go before turning his attention to stripping off their clothes. Dean lifts his hips and arms as necessary but is otherwise pliable, watching Castiel with lust-dark eyes. Before he can really comprehend what's happening, Dean is sprawled out naked on the bed underneath a fully-clothed Castiel. He feels exposed and slightly embarrassed, but his cock is flushed and full against his stomach and he's panting under the weight of Cas's sharp blue eyes.
"You must understand, Dean," Castiel says, his voice quavering slightly. "I've stayed away too long. I had hoped the effects would be temporary, but I cannot deny these needs any longer. I don'tt think that you can either," he finishes with a pointed look at Dean's painfully hard dick.
"I can't, I really can't," Dean gasps. He turns over on the bed and thrusts his ass upward, the overwhelming lust outweighing any shame he might feel at how he must look right now. He feels a small bit of satisfaction when Cas makes a choked noise behind him. The angel places his hands lightly on the curve of his ass before pulling his cheeks apart and fuck, he's licking at Dean's asshole, and Dean is moaning shamelessly. Cas teases around the rim for a few moments before licking one broad stripe across his entrance. He pulls back then, and Dean feels bereft at the loss of him.
"I hope you can appreciate the urgency I feel, Dean," Cas whispers before thrusting two slick fingers in to the first knuckle. Dean grunts in surprise, but it doesn't hurt. He knows it should, but it doesn't. As if reading his thoughts -- and hell, he probably is -- Cas continues. "I will alleviate the pain, but I cannot wait any longer."
Dean has a second to process that and the accompanying rustle of fabric before Cas removes his fingers and shoves his cock into Dean. They both cry out, and Cas pauses only briefly before he pulls out and begins thrusting into Dean. He has one hand on Dean's hip and one on the nape of his neck, and Dean knows there are going to be bruises. The thought just makes him harder. He shoves back to meet Cas once, twice, then stops, turning his head to look over his shoulder.
"Please, I want to see you. Let me look at you."
Cas narrows his eyes before pulling out and flipping Dean over without any visible effort. He grabs one leg, lifting it over his shoulder before sliding back into Dean. Dean slaps a hand over his own mouth as Cas's thrusts slide right across his prostate and he loses all coherence.
"No," Cas growls, dragging his hand away. "Let me hear you." Dean flushes, though how he can feel embarrassment at this point is beyond him. Another sharp thrust drags his attention back, and he loses control of his own mouth.
"Please, Cas, please. Fuck, wanted you so long, never thought I'd get you like this. Don't want anyone else now. No one else, I swear it. Just please, don't stop, ah-- right there, oh God." His words seem to set something loose in Cas, whose eyes grow impossibly darker as his thrusts become erratic. Dean sees shadows expand behind the angel's back, fuck, his wings, and that's it. He groans as he comes all over his own stomach.
Cas looks down between their bodies, his eyes widening in surprise. He slides a hand up to Dean's cheek, thumb skimming over his throat, and his hips stutter. Dean sees a light building behind his eyes, under his skin, and he moves to cover his own eyes.
"Don't," Cas gasps, and then he's coming too, white light that can only be his grace filling the room. It washes over Dean, and he feels a hundred things at once. Love, belonging, passion, even hints of possessiveness that make him shiver. Above all, an overwhelming sense of Castiel, and he basks in it. He might pass out, he doesn't know, but when he comes back to himself Cas is next to him, giving him a searching look. He smiles, a lazy post-orgasmic grin, and turns over to curl up to the angel.
Cas must have seen what he was looking for, because he reaches an arm around Dean and sighs with contentment. As he drifts off to sleep, the last thing he hears is Cas whispering in his ear.
"Mine," he murmurs, barely audible. Dean falls asleep with a smile on his face.
Author: discreetmath
Rating: NC-17
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: None.
Warnings: Explicit sex, rimming.
Word Count: 1850
Summary: After a one night stand he can't seem to remember, Dean can't bring himself to sleep with anyone else. And believe him, he's tried. The reason isn't at all what he was expecting.
A/N: Betaed by haughtymelodic. Written for this Blindfold_SPN prompt.
Disclaimer: Characters and anything else recognizable do not belong to me. I'm just borrowing them.
Dean's first thought upon waking is that whoever left the curtains open is going to die a slow and painful death. He feels like someone spent the night traipsing around on his head, and the late morning sun isn't helping matters. Closely following that, he has the overwhelming feeling that he had some seriously life-changing sex last night. He can't seem to remember who it was with, but judging by the residual ache in his ass he can at least draw a conclusion or two. He's immensely grateful when he remembers having booked separate motel rooms the previous day.
He grudgingly rolls out of bed and shuffles into the bathroom. One long, hot shower later, and he's feeling slightly more equipped to face the outside world. He finds his phone on the nightstand and calls Sam, more than ready to get out of there.
---
A few nights later, they've stopped off at a roadside dive. Sam's in the corner on his laptop, and Dean's chatting up a well-endowed blonde at the bar. Things seem to be going pretty smoothly until she puts her hand on his thigh and leans in close.
"Ready to get out of here, baby?" she purrs in his ear.
Images flash before his eyes of this hot chick underneath him, spread out and naked, and Dean shudders unpleasantly. The woman, Amy or Angie or something, frowns in concern and slides her other hand up to the side of Dean's neck. He jerks backward out of her grasp, sliding out of his stool and backing away quickly.
"What the hell," she says, "What is your problem?"
Dean shakes his head quickly, mumbling an apology and heading back over to the table. Sam's giving him an inscrutable look, and he responds with a quelling glare. He's still feeling a bit nauseous, and he'd rather not think about why, thanks.
---
Unfortunately, this isn't a one-time incident. Over the next two weeks, he tries hooking up with three different women. Different types, different looks, different locations. Every time, when faced with the prospect of actually getting laid Dean can't feel anything but revulsion.
It's not like he's not horny, because fuck is he horny. He's been jerking off in the shower more than usual, but even that just doesn't seem to be taking the edge off of the weird, indefinable need he's been feeling.
Needless to say, at this point he's feeling pretty desperate. Remembering the last time he actually had sex, he figures he's going about this the wrong way. So even though he makes a point not to pick up dudes when Sam's around, tonight he sets his sights on a tall, dark-haired guy playing pool. He lays the groundwork, and it doesn't take long before he knows the guy is interested. He lets himself think that he's finally going to have sex tonight, and that's all it takes to ruin it. This guy is hot, objectively he knows that, but the prospect of fucking him is enough to make him gag.
He leaves the bar in a rush, leaving a pissed-off guy and a bewildered Sam in his wake.
---
By the time he gets back to the room he's at the end of his rope. It's not like he's never gone a few weeks without sex before, but the ever-present need niggling at the back of his mind is driving him crazy. He fishes a bottle of Jack out of his duffel, shrugs out of his jacket, and kicks off his boots before flopping down onto the bed. Drinking himself into a stupor feels like a promising idea at the moment.
A quiet rustling sound has him bolting upright, but he relaxes when he sees Castiel standing by the window. The angel is looking distinctly uncomfortable though. Fidgeting, which is pretty unsettling. Dean realizes with a start that he's rock hard in his jeans. He moves to adjust himself, and he sees Castiel's nostrils flare before he crosses the room to stand in front of the bed.
"I must apologize, Dean," he begins, and his voice is low and unsteady. "I was not aware of the repercussions of our coupling, but I fear the damage has been done."
"Wait, I'm sorry. Our coupling?" Dean racks his brain, trying to figure out what Cas could possibly be talking about, and oh. Oh shit. Cas was his mystery lay?
"I was not aware that the act of intercourse could affect the bond that already exists between my grace and your soul. I acted impulsively, and now we both face the consequences."
"What are you talking about, dude? What bond?" Dean is feeling more lost by the minute, and his pressing arousal isn't helping much.
Castiel slides gracefully to his knees before Dean. "This," he whispers, reaching up and gripping Dean's arm where the handprint scar shows under the sleeve of his t-shirt. Dean moans, he can't help it, that one touch is sending a bolt of heat straight to his cock and he thrusts up helplessly into the air.
"Cas," he whimpers, reaching forward before dropping his hand to his side. "What's going on?"
"When we were together, the bond between us was affected. Changed. We are now, for lack of a better term... mated."
Dean's mouth hangs open, disbelieving. "So, wait. Every time I've tried to have sex since then and couldn't, that's because you mated me?" He doesn't have time to realize his mistake before Cas is bearing him down on the bed, his eyes flashing.
"It is because you are mine," Cas growls, grabbing Dean's wrists and pinning them above his head. "You will not have sex with anyone else. No one else may touch you, do you understand?"
Some distant part of Dean knows that he should be indignant, but instead he's nodding frantically and straining upward, desperate for contact.
"Say it, Dean. Tell me to whom you belong."
"You," Dean whimpers. "Yours. Just, please. Touch me."
Castiel's face turns predatory as he releases Dean's wrists and reaches down to undo his belt. He unbuttons the fly and reaches inside, closing his long fingers around Dean's erection and stroking once. Dean throws his head back and groans in relief. Cas nods, apparently satisfied with this response, and lets go before turning his attention to stripping off their clothes. Dean lifts his hips and arms as necessary but is otherwise pliable, watching Castiel with lust-dark eyes. Before he can really comprehend what's happening, Dean is sprawled out naked on the bed underneath a fully-clothed Castiel. He feels exposed and slightly embarrassed, but his cock is flushed and full against his stomach and he's panting under the weight of Cas's sharp blue eyes.
"You must understand, Dean," Castiel says, his voice quavering slightly. "I've stayed away too long. I had hoped the effects would be temporary, but I cannot deny these needs any longer. I don'tt think that you can either," he finishes with a pointed look at Dean's painfully hard dick.
"I can't, I really can't," Dean gasps. He turns over on the bed and thrusts his ass upward, the overwhelming lust outweighing any shame he might feel at how he must look right now. He feels a small bit of satisfaction when Cas makes a choked noise behind him. The angel places his hands lightly on the curve of his ass before pulling his cheeks apart and fuck, he's licking at Dean's asshole, and Dean is moaning shamelessly. Cas teases around the rim for a few moments before licking one broad stripe across his entrance. He pulls back then, and Dean feels bereft at the loss of him.
"I hope you can appreciate the urgency I feel, Dean," Cas whispers before thrusting two slick fingers in to the first knuckle. Dean grunts in surprise, but it doesn't hurt. He knows it should, but it doesn't. As if reading his thoughts -- and hell, he probably is -- Cas continues. "I will alleviate the pain, but I cannot wait any longer."
Dean has a second to process that and the accompanying rustle of fabric before Cas removes his fingers and shoves his cock into Dean. They both cry out, and Cas pauses only briefly before he pulls out and begins thrusting into Dean. He has one hand on Dean's hip and one on the nape of his neck, and Dean knows there are going to be bruises. The thought just makes him harder. He shoves back to meet Cas once, twice, then stops, turning his head to look over his shoulder.
"Please, I want to see you. Let me look at you."
Cas narrows his eyes before pulling out and flipping Dean over without any visible effort. He grabs one leg, lifting it over his shoulder before sliding back into Dean. Dean slaps a hand over his own mouth as Cas's thrusts slide right across his prostate and he loses all coherence.
"No," Cas growls, dragging his hand away. "Let me hear you." Dean flushes, though how he can feel embarrassment at this point is beyond him. Another sharp thrust drags his attention back, and he loses control of his own mouth.
"Please, Cas, please. Fuck, wanted you so long, never thought I'd get you like this. Don't want anyone else now. No one else, I swear it. Just please, don't stop, ah-- right there, oh God." His words seem to set something loose in Cas, whose eyes grow impossibly darker as his thrusts become erratic. Dean sees shadows expand behind the angel's back, fuck, his wings, and that's it. He groans as he comes all over his own stomach.
Cas looks down between their bodies, his eyes widening in surprise. He slides a hand up to Dean's cheek, thumb skimming over his throat, and his hips stutter. Dean sees a light building behind his eyes, under his skin, and he moves to cover his own eyes.
"Don't," Cas gasps, and then he's coming too, white light that can only be his grace filling the room. It washes over Dean, and he feels a hundred things at once. Love, belonging, passion, even hints of possessiveness that make him shiver. Above all, an overwhelming sense of Castiel, and he basks in it. He might pass out, he doesn't know, but when he comes back to himself Cas is next to him, giving him a searching look. He smiles, a lazy post-orgasmic grin, and turns over to curl up to the angel.
Cas must have seen what he was looking for, because he reaches an arm around Dean and sighs with contentment. As he drifts off to sleep, the last thing he hears is Cas whispering in his ear.
"Mine," he murmurs, barely audible. Dean falls asleep with a smile on his face.