FIC: Supernatural, Worst Timing Ever (NC17)
Fic title: Worst Timing Ever
Fandom: SPN
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word count: 1134
Rating: NC17
DISCLAIMER: Supernatural and its characters don't belong to me, and I'm not making any profit from any of these stories. Just for fun!
A/note: written for this prompt over at SPN Kink meme.
The demon - fucking bitch - slaps him hard enough that Dean slams into the ground in a way that’s going to leave him with some spectacular bruises tomorrow. His breath explodes out of his chest, and all he can do is lie there and struggle to get his lungs to work again.
She stands over him, crowing about the angels’ chosen one. Michael’s vessel. What she’s going to do to him, and where she’s going to send whatever’s left.
Dean pants as he rolls over enough to look past her, to where the rest of her demon buddies are getting up from their table, coming over to join in the fun. There are six of them in all, now, and he wishes he’d listened to Bobby. Wait, Bobby had told him. Wait for me and Sam to get there.
But Dean had only seen one demon go in here all day. One demon he should have been able to handle.
“Gonna fucking love this,” she smirks, and reaches down to fist her hand in his hair.
A scream from behind her brings everyone’s attention to the back of the room. A body falls, unconscious, and a plume of black smoke quickly evaporates. Castiel is standing there, face dark with fury. The demons charge him as one, and Dean yells a warning, but it’s pointless.
Castiel is outnumbered, Dean can’t get up to stand never mind fight. This is going only one way and it’s bad enough he got himself into this without dragging Cas down with him. There’s no way Cas can take out this many demons like this.
Except apparently no one told Castiel that.
The first demon to reach him lurches to a halt as Castiel raises a hand, sort of flicks his fingers at it in a dismissive gesture that sends it crashing into the wall across the room. The angel grabs the throat of the next demon, murmurs in Enochian, and then another cloud of black pools at his feet before slipping under the door.
Three down, three to go.
Dean watches as Castiel fights like he means to take every last one of them apart. Whatever they try, it doesn’t work. The angel blocks, parries, slices with a gleaming blade that appeared in his hand so suddenly Dean isn’t sure where it came from.
And then finally, it’s her turn, and she screams in rage as she flies at Castiel. She’s so angry she fights like a girl, nails going for the angel’s eyes. Castiel catches her wrists with insulting ease, shakes his head at her and then forces her out of the body she’s possessing with a look.
He lowers the unconscious woman to the floor, and steps over the other bodies to reach Dean.
“Are you alright?”
Dean’s finding it hard to breathe again, but not for the same reason as before. He stays on his side, top leg a little further forward, and hopes Castiel doesn’t try to help him up. He can’t explain this to himself, let alone to Cas, and Cas notices everything so he’s sure to ask, and Dean.... Dean has no idea how to explain why watching Castiel fight has just given him the hard on of his life.
It’s so bad that he wants to tell Castiel to go wait outside for Sam and Bobby so he can just drop his jeans and take care of it. And yeah, jerking off in the same room as unconscious and dead vessels is like the worst idea ever, but his body isn’t giving him a choice.
“Cas,” he starts, but Castiel reaches down and grabs his arms and pulls him onto his feet.
Dean stumbles a little at the suddenness of it, and oh yeah life surely has it in for him. He ends up hard - in more ways than one - against Cas and if the angel can’t feel that...can’t feel Dean’s erection poking him through trench coat and suit, he must have nerve damage or something.
There’s a long drawn out moment where no one says anything, and the only sound is the tick tick tick of a clock somewhere. Because Castiel doesn’t breathe, and right now Dean isn’t either.
“Dean,” Castiel says finally. “I think most human males are stimulated by adrenalin especially in dangerous or combat situations.”
Dean lets his mouth drop open. “I....” he starts, and them clamps his jaw shut, because there’s really nothing to say to that. Maybe most human males are, but only if the combat situation involves two chicks, really tiny bikinis and a lot of mud.
He’s pretty sure he’s the first guy ever to get a hard on from watching a male angel fight six demons to save him.
Castiel steps away, and Dean almost groans, because his body was seriously liking the angel’s proximity. Or maybe it was a good idea, because if Castiel had stood there a moment longer, Dean thinks his body was about to enter auto pilot mode and he’s not sure Castiel would be so understanding about Dean humping against him.
But that still leaves him with a massive problem.
The sound of Bobby’s truck pulling up outside draws Castiel’s attention to the door. Dean takes the opportunity, brief as it is, to rub roughly at himself through his jeans. Just a little bit of relief, he thinks, aware he’s silently pleading with his dick, you’ll get more later. Just please please please. He can’t drive the car like this, and he can’t sit in the truck with Sam or Bobby and spend the trip shifting around in the seat.
When Castiel turns back to face him, Dean knows his face is red. Castiel smirks a little at him. “Perhaps I should take you back to the motel room instead of Sam or Bobby driving you,” he suggests. “In case you have any physical problems that need attended to.”
Dean’s so desperate now, his brain feels ready to disengage. FML when his not-your-guardian-angel is offering to take him back to his room so he can masturbate. “What if it’s more than I can handle on my own?” And he did not just say that. He didn’t. He laughs almost hysterically because everything - everything is like fodder for his dick right now and he’s clearly gone nuts.
Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure I can give you whatever help you need.”
Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that. Maybe Castiel finally has a sense of humour or maybe he’s unconscious and this is some weird comatose fantasy. Or maybe, just maybe...
Bobby and Sam burst in, armed and ready to kill anything black eyed and evil.
Dean grins goofily at them. “Just gonna fly back,” he says, and then Castiel squeezes his shoulder and they’re gone.
Fandom: SPN
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Word count: 1134
Rating: NC17
DISCLAIMER: Supernatural and its characters don't belong to me, and I'm not making any profit from any of these stories. Just for fun!
A/note: written for this prompt over at SPN Kink meme.
The demon - fucking bitch - slaps him hard enough that Dean slams into the ground in a way that’s going to leave him with some spectacular bruises tomorrow. His breath explodes out of his chest, and all he can do is lie there and struggle to get his lungs to work again.
She stands over him, crowing about the angels’ chosen one. Michael’s vessel. What she’s going to do to him, and where she’s going to send whatever’s left.
Dean pants as he rolls over enough to look past her, to where the rest of her demon buddies are getting up from their table, coming over to join in the fun. There are six of them in all, now, and he wishes he’d listened to Bobby. Wait, Bobby had told him. Wait for me and Sam to get there.
But Dean had only seen one demon go in here all day. One demon he should have been able to handle.
“Gonna fucking love this,” she smirks, and reaches down to fist her hand in his hair.
A scream from behind her brings everyone’s attention to the back of the room. A body falls, unconscious, and a plume of black smoke quickly evaporates. Castiel is standing there, face dark with fury. The demons charge him as one, and Dean yells a warning, but it’s pointless.
Castiel is outnumbered, Dean can’t get up to stand never mind fight. This is going only one way and it’s bad enough he got himself into this without dragging Cas down with him. There’s no way Cas can take out this many demons like this.
Except apparently no one told Castiel that.
The first demon to reach him lurches to a halt as Castiel raises a hand, sort of flicks his fingers at it in a dismissive gesture that sends it crashing into the wall across the room. The angel grabs the throat of the next demon, murmurs in Enochian, and then another cloud of black pools at his feet before slipping under the door.
Three down, three to go.
Dean watches as Castiel fights like he means to take every last one of them apart. Whatever they try, it doesn’t work. The angel blocks, parries, slices with a gleaming blade that appeared in his hand so suddenly Dean isn’t sure where it came from.
And then finally, it’s her turn, and she screams in rage as she flies at Castiel. She’s so angry she fights like a girl, nails going for the angel’s eyes. Castiel catches her wrists with insulting ease, shakes his head at her and then forces her out of the body she’s possessing with a look.
He lowers the unconscious woman to the floor, and steps over the other bodies to reach Dean.
“Are you alright?”
Dean’s finding it hard to breathe again, but not for the same reason as before. He stays on his side, top leg a little further forward, and hopes Castiel doesn’t try to help him up. He can’t explain this to himself, let alone to Cas, and Cas notices everything so he’s sure to ask, and Dean.... Dean has no idea how to explain why watching Castiel fight has just given him the hard on of his life.
It’s so bad that he wants to tell Castiel to go wait outside for Sam and Bobby so he can just drop his jeans and take care of it. And yeah, jerking off in the same room as unconscious and dead vessels is like the worst idea ever, but his body isn’t giving him a choice.
“Cas,” he starts, but Castiel reaches down and grabs his arms and pulls him onto his feet.
Dean stumbles a little at the suddenness of it, and oh yeah life surely has it in for him. He ends up hard - in more ways than one - against Cas and if the angel can’t feel that...can’t feel Dean’s erection poking him through trench coat and suit, he must have nerve damage or something.
There’s a long drawn out moment where no one says anything, and the only sound is the tick tick tick of a clock somewhere. Because Castiel doesn’t breathe, and right now Dean isn’t either.
“Dean,” Castiel says finally. “I think most human males are stimulated by adrenalin especially in dangerous or combat situations.”
Dean lets his mouth drop open. “I....” he starts, and them clamps his jaw shut, because there’s really nothing to say to that. Maybe most human males are, but only if the combat situation involves two chicks, really tiny bikinis and a lot of mud.
He’s pretty sure he’s the first guy ever to get a hard on from watching a male angel fight six demons to save him.
Castiel steps away, and Dean almost groans, because his body was seriously liking the angel’s proximity. Or maybe it was a good idea, because if Castiel had stood there a moment longer, Dean thinks his body was about to enter auto pilot mode and he’s not sure Castiel would be so understanding about Dean humping against him.
But that still leaves him with a massive problem.
The sound of Bobby’s truck pulling up outside draws Castiel’s attention to the door. Dean takes the opportunity, brief as it is, to rub roughly at himself through his jeans. Just a little bit of relief, he thinks, aware he’s silently pleading with his dick, you’ll get more later. Just please please please. He can’t drive the car like this, and he can’t sit in the truck with Sam or Bobby and spend the trip shifting around in the seat.
When Castiel turns back to face him, Dean knows his face is red. Castiel smirks a little at him. “Perhaps I should take you back to the motel room instead of Sam or Bobby driving you,” he suggests. “In case you have any physical problems that need attended to.”
Dean’s so desperate now, his brain feels ready to disengage. FML when his not-your-guardian-angel is offering to take him back to his room so he can masturbate. “What if it’s more than I can handle on my own?” And he did not just say that. He didn’t. He laughs almost hysterically because everything - everything is like fodder for his dick right now and he’s clearly gone nuts.
Castiel puts a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure I can give you whatever help you need.”
Dean doesn’t have anything to say to that. Maybe Castiel finally has a sense of humour or maybe he’s unconscious and this is some weird comatose fantasy. Or maybe, just maybe...
Bobby and Sam burst in, armed and ready to kill anything black eyed and evil.
Dean grins goofily at them. “Just gonna fly back,” he says, and then Castiel squeezes his shoulder and they’re gone.