Story: Have To
Title: Have To
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Words: 697
Rating: NC-17
Warnings/Enticements: marking, mild D/s
Summary: Dean doesn't want to do it. He has to do it.
He tells himself it's not because he wants to. It's because he has to.
"Hey, Cas?"
Castiel pauses at the door, what used to be the door to a meat locker, in an old butchers shop in the backwoods of Oregon. Red light flickers from underneath it; this is the place where youth come to dance and sweat and writhe. This is the place the demon has gone, this is where Castiel can smell it's sulfur.
God must be testing Dean.
"Yes, Dean?" That voice, so low and rumbling, Castiel's version of whispering. It does nothing to help Dean.
"C-Come here for a second." He falters on the word, because it reminds him of things he'd rather not think about, not here, not with what he has to do (because he doesn't want to).
Castiel's hand drops from the door handle, and he moves over to Dean without any questions. He trusts Dean so completely, and the thought makes Dean shiver. He knows Castiel can't just walk into this place looking like he does, looking so damn innocent, with his slack mouth and wide blue eyes, because Dean knows things Castiel doesn't, and this is the place you go when you're looking for a master... or a slave.
Dean takes Cas by the shoulders, which seem so slim and bony compared to his own. He turns Cas towards the table he'd been leaning on, then moves behind him. "Dean, what - ?" Cas finally asks.
Dean presses his chest against Castiel's back. He needs to explain, to at least tell him something. His hand runs through Cas's hair as he says, "The place we're going into -" He stops. His voice is so deep and husky, like he's talking someone into bed. Clearing his throat, he continues, "The place we're going into isn't a normal night club. One of us has to look... submissive."
"And that person has to be me?"
Dean almost smiled. "Just trust me, Cas, okay?"
"I do, Dean."
Dean shuddered again. He tilted Cas's head slightly back and to the side, exposing the angel's pale, slim throat. Dean took a deep breath, then placed his mouth on the skin below Castiel's ear.
Castiel gasped. "Dean, what - ?" he repeated.
Dean just held on, sucking the cool, salty skin into his mouth, tongue working, doing his best to leave a mark that would be visible for most of the night. "Dean, I...oh." So softly, as if Castiel had discovered some great secret.
Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist, and walked them the last step forward, till Cas's thighs hit the table, and Dean's cock (which was not hard because he did not want to do this) was nestled against Cas's surprisingly firm ass. Castiel's breathing sped up, and Dean felt the angel's hips shift slightly, like he was trying to hold them back, and he wondered what Cas was feeling. Dean nipped at the skin in his mouth, and Cas's head tilted back until it hit Dean's shoulder.
Dean held on, teeth worrying at the flesh, his own hips now rocking forward of their own accord. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel's hand moving, stroking himself on top of his slacks, as if he didn't know that what he was trying to get to was inside, that he could just unzip them and the pleasure would be right there. Dean couldn't help it. And it didn't take long.
When their orgasms hit, it was almost simultaneous, and they both slumped forward over the table, Dean's arm still around Cas, but his mouth coming off his neck with an obscene pop.
Dean took a step back, watched Castiel brace himself on the table, shoulders heaving as he panted, head hanging. Remembering suddenly why he'd had to do this, Dean stepped forward and wrenched Castiel's head up by the hair.
There it was, a small but brilliantly red mark, dark and vulgar. Dean took a deep breath, steadying himself. "Come on, Cas." He turned and headed for the door, knowing that the angel would follow.
And he wondered when would be the next time he would have to do something.
Link to sequel, Forced To: http://janekrahe.livejournal.com/3796.html#cutid1