Fic: Sins of the Flesh
Title: Sins of the Flesh
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Spoilers: 5x03
Warnings: Very vague references to past non-con
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Dean had taught him how to kiss like he meant it, and he didn't regret that, not one bit.
AN: Coda to 5x03, written for comment_fic .
This won't change anything.
Dean decides as much, staring into the bathroom mirror. Oh he's not stupid enough that he thinks they can pretend it didn't happen. But he can make it exactly what it was. Something Cas deserved, something Dean could give him. Rather him than someone else after all. Someone that didn't know what Cas was, didn't know how unique his situation was, and sure it sounds messed up like that but it's a pretty big freakin' excuse. It's not like Cas is just some confused guy off the bus.
Dean knows damn well it was the combination of amusement, alcohol and genuine need to keep his promise that had made him offer. Before he even thought about it all that hard. Made him offer himself, like that was good enough, like he was good enough. But he's damned if that isn't his whole life in a nutshell right there. One crazy instance of 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' after another.
One kiss, one careful question and a hand left a little too long and a little too close to the curve of Castiel's neck. That's all it had taken, and Castiel had looked at him in that stunned unfathomable way he had, and then he'd stepped into his space. Like nothing Dean suggested could ever end badly.
Like there was no way he could possibly say no.
Dean can't remember if he tried-
He leans in, wipes condensation off of the mirror with one hand, and stares at the water running in lines across his own reflection. He doesn't look like the sort of person any angel should put that much trust in.
Dean had taught him how to kiss like he meant it, and he didn't regret that, not one bit. Though he'd been honestly surprised by the hunger underneath it, by how much Cas had wanted it. Once Dean had shown him the way.
He knows what Cas feels like now, in all the ways he probably shouldn't. He knows that he's slim and soft and warm out of his clothes. He knows how heavy he is, body real enough that it knew when to press him down, when and where to push.
Dean doesn't- he stares at the bruises painted over his skin, dark and tender where his hips become his waist and he's fairly sure down his thighs too. Yeah, so he doesn't usually do that, but it's no big deal. It's not like Castiel hurt him. No more than Dean expected, no more than he was prepared for.
It had been mostly stunned desperation, all inexperienced, greedy pushes. But Dean can forgive him that. You should be allowed to be a little bit greedy your first time.
There'd been so many words, falling broken against his throat, his mouth, the leather of his coat thrown over the dusty mattress of the old bed. Formless and reverent at the same time, and he hadn't understood a single one of them. So he'd just murmured quiet encouragement, soft words and hard obscene words, he thinks it was the obscene words that gave him bruises over his thighs. The long slow ache inside that, for once, he doesn't have to feel angry about. That he doesn't have to feel ashamed of.
Castiel had breathed his name like a prayer and said 'I love you-'
But it won't change anything.
Because Dean can't let it, can't let it be that when everything in his life is over the edge, falling without any kind of safety net.
It was just one drunken decision, not something he owed but something Castiel deserved, someone who knew how terrifying this could be.
It wasn't that, not for him, it was just-
He thinks maybe for Castiel it was a hell of a lot more.
Can opened, worms all over the damn place.
The way Castiel looks at him now, like he knows how to want.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R
Spoilers: 5x03
Warnings: Very vague references to past non-con
Disclaimer: In no way mine, or anything to do with me, I own nothing.
Summary: Dean had taught him how to kiss like he meant it, and he didn't regret that, not one bit.
AN: Coda to 5x03, written for comment_fic .
This won't change anything.
Dean decides as much, staring into the bathroom mirror. Oh he's not stupid enough that he thinks they can pretend it didn't happen. But he can make it exactly what it was. Something Cas deserved, something Dean could give him. Rather him than someone else after all. Someone that didn't know what Cas was, didn't know how unique his situation was, and sure it sounds messed up like that but it's a pretty big freakin' excuse. It's not like Cas is just some confused guy off the bus.
Dean knows damn well it was the combination of amusement, alcohol and genuine need to keep his promise that had made him offer. Before he even thought about it all that hard. Made him offer himself, like that was good enough, like he was good enough. But he's damned if that isn't his whole life in a nutshell right there. One crazy instance of 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' after another.
One kiss, one careful question and a hand left a little too long and a little too close to the curve of Castiel's neck. That's all it had taken, and Castiel had looked at him in that stunned unfathomable way he had, and then he'd stepped into his space. Like nothing Dean suggested could ever end badly.
Like there was no way he could possibly say no.
Dean can't remember if he tried-
He leans in, wipes condensation off of the mirror with one hand, and stares at the water running in lines across his own reflection. He doesn't look like the sort of person any angel should put that much trust in.
Dean had taught him how to kiss like he meant it, and he didn't regret that, not one bit. Though he'd been honestly surprised by the hunger underneath it, by how much Cas had wanted it. Once Dean had shown him the way.
He knows what Cas feels like now, in all the ways he probably shouldn't. He knows that he's slim and soft and warm out of his clothes. He knows how heavy he is, body real enough that it knew when to press him down, when and where to push.
Dean doesn't- he stares at the bruises painted over his skin, dark and tender where his hips become his waist and he's fairly sure down his thighs too. Yeah, so he doesn't usually do that, but it's no big deal. It's not like Castiel hurt him. No more than Dean expected, no more than he was prepared for.
It had been mostly stunned desperation, all inexperienced, greedy pushes. But Dean can forgive him that. You should be allowed to be a little bit greedy your first time.
There'd been so many words, falling broken against his throat, his mouth, the leather of his coat thrown over the dusty mattress of the old bed. Formless and reverent at the same time, and he hadn't understood a single one of them. So he'd just murmured quiet encouragement, soft words and hard obscene words, he thinks it was the obscene words that gave him bruises over his thighs. The long slow ache inside that, for once, he doesn't have to feel angry about. That he doesn't have to feel ashamed of.
Castiel had breathed his name like a prayer and said 'I love you-'
But it won't change anything.
Because Dean can't let it, can't let it be that when everything in his life is over the edge, falling without any kind of safety net.
It was just one drunken decision, not something he owed but something Castiel deserved, someone who knew how terrifying this could be.
It wasn't that, not for him, it was just-
He thinks maybe for Castiel it was a hell of a lot more.
Can opened, worms all over the damn place.
The way Castiel looks at him now, like he knows how to want.