FIC: Pain, Sex, And Love A Kink_Meme Response
PAIN, SEX, AND LOVE: A Day In The Life of Dean Winchester.
Title: Pain, Sex, And Love: A Day In The Life Of Dean Winchester.
Author: rchginger
Genre: Slash. Dean/Castiel. Poor Sam that has to put up with it all.
Word Count: 4, 803
Warnings: M/M sex, Wing!Kink. TopCas! Because Cas in charge is a turn on. No beta-mistakes are all mine and I apologize for them in advance.
Disclaimer: Okay you caught me, I own Supernatural….Okay I don’t really but I girl can dream can’t she?
Spoilers? None, unless you’ve been living under a rock and don’t know who Castiel and Raphael is.
Notes? Prompt? Response to a prompt on the Dean/Cas S6 Kink-Meme. Prompted by
krystalicekitsu,
Summary: Prompt was: Dean/Castiel- Raphael pops back up and does something that nearly kills Dean. Cas has to make him better by giving him pieces of his grace. Dean gets wings…. And then they have sex.) Basically sums it up. Not sure if this was what you where wanting, but I hope you like.
PAIN, SEX, AND LOVE: A Day In The Life of Dean Winchester.
Dean knew pain.
He had an intimate relationship with the searing, spine twisting sensation. He knew how it felt to have a knife sliding through his flesh and muscle; cutting tendons and drawing rich, dark crimson. He also knew how it felt to deliver it onto another. To have someone scream and writhe beneath him, and beg for it to end while he worked them……He knew pain and right now Dean was hurting like hell.
Literally.
It was a pain that had only been matched in the pit with the dark orange flames licking at his flesh and the screams of the tormented damned echoing in his ears. The skin on his back felt like it had been split apart; torn open by whatever that fucking super bitch angel had done. His wrists were still bound behind his back, securing him to the rusty metal chair in the old warehouse that Raphael had chosen for their ‘talk’.
A twist of a wrist, a brush of too cold fingers on his forehead and Dean had woken to the damp, musty air with a scream ripping the lining of his throat to shreds. The archangel’s hand had been forearm deep in his chest, turning him inside out.
“Nothing personal, but he cares for you and if he’s too busy rescuing you he won’t be trying to find the weapons.”
As it turns out Raphael’s a chatty son of bitch when he’s soul torturing someone. Or maybe it was the new vessel. Of Asian descent and only reaching Dean’s shoulder the vessel was slighter than the last. And if the pain wasn’t making him sick Dean would feel sorry for the poor sack now being used as an angel condom to be tossed away after Raphael has soiled it beyond repair.
Struggling with his restraints, Dean risked a glance around the large empty space. The mighty mutant archangel had flapped off once Dean had started screaming and had been unable to stop. Dean didn’t give a fuck where he had gone to…but man would it have killed the fucker to have untied him first. He was beginning to hate angels even more than witches…and that was saying something.
A rustle behind him made him twitch; it was a sound he now knew all too well.
“Dean.”
Cas.
... And he so did not let out a sob of relief at the gruff voice speaking his name. Nor did his heart stutter at the sight of the newly minted archangel dressed in the usual trench coat and suit…He didn’t. Honestly. And if he did, which he didn’t, it was just because he was happy that he wouldn’t have to rub his wrists raw to get out of the rope.
“Dean.” Castiel said again and if Dean didn’t know him so well he would say that the angel sounded relieved.
“Hey Cas.” Dean tried for a smile and failed miserably. A wet cough followed the angel’s name off his tongue and sticky crimson dribbled down his chin.
Fuck…That couldn’t be good.
Dark spots swirled in his vision while his body shook as his lungs forced out more blood. The restraints loosened without being touched and Dean slumped forward into Castiel’s waiting arms.
“It’s okay Dean. I’ve got you.” Fingers combed through his hair. “I’m sorry.”
Dean had a moment to wonder what Cas had to be sorry about before his eyes slid shut and the darkness swallowed him. He welcomed the oblivion….at least then there would be no pain.
Ӂ
Guilt was a funny emotion. And one that Castiel had begun to know during his time as….as less than he was meant to be. He had felt guilty before. When he had to lie to Dean when they had first met. When he could not help the young man that had seen far too much of the violence of this world. Yes, Castiel now archangel angel of the Lord knew of the emotion called guilt.
The churning, sick feeling in his vessel’s stomach told him he was experiencing the less than pleasurable emotion at this moment. Jimmy Novak….no longer inhabited this body he wore like his own. Castiel had seen to the resting of the man’s soul a time ago when he had returned after Raphael’s attempt at ending his existence. So the sick sensation must be his alone…and he knew the cause of it.
He only hoped…prayed even…that Dean would forgive him.
The door to the ratty motel room the brother’s Winchester had taken residence in for the night opened with a tiny squeak of protest. Castiel didn’t look away from the small bed that Dean laid upon, already knowing that it was Sam returning from his search for his missing brother. Castiel thought now that he should have contacted Sam to let him know that he had found Dean. Yet at the time his focus had been entirely on Dean and caring for him, making sure the hunter lived passed the hour. He couldn’t be sorry for his actions, but he did regret the unnecessary worry Sam had felt.
“Cas?” Castiel could hear the confusion in the young Winchester’s voice…the man that had become his friend. “What…?” The questioned died off and Castiel assumed Sam had spotted his brother. “What the hell happened to him?”
Sam brushed past Castiel, their arms hitting as he made his way to Dean.
“I was not able to find him in time. Raphael….” Castiel didn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t want to finish it.
He never wanted to think about what Raphael had done to the bright, pure light that was Dean’s soul. He certainly never wanted to tell Sam nor Dean.
“Is he okay?” Sam was wringing his hands, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, and Castiel knew he wanted to check for himself. To feel and see that his brother was okay for himself.
“He shall be yes. But he needs to rest.”
“Did you…” Sam finally looked away from Dean and towards Castiel where he now stood by the single small window to the room. “Did you heal him?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks Cas.”
“You need not thank me Sam.”
“Yeah I do….but you really should have called me.” Castiel had been waiting for that. “I’m mean, shit. I was racing around this fucking town looking for him and he’s been here….”
“Forty-five minutes and thirty-nine seconds.” Castiel supplied.
“Nearly an hour and you didn’t think I needed to know that? That I wouldn’t want to know my brother was safe and not somewhere dying?”
“I was not thinking about you at all, my attentions had been focused on Dean.”
“I…” Sam paused, running a hand through his hair that was growing too long. “I get that…Thank you.” Castiel opened his mouth but Sam beat him to it. “I know, I know, I don’t have to thank you but I want to.”
“Then you are welcome, but I did not do it for you.”
A harsh bark of laughter escaped Sam. “Yeah, I know.”
Castiel turned his eyes to Dean. He would sleep through the night as his body made the necessary adjustments, Castiel wanted to be here when he awoke but he could feel his brothers and sisters clamoring in the back of his mind for his attention.
“I must go.” He told Sam, already unfurling his wings. The smooth dark feathers that could be soft to the touch or as deadly as a blade shifted through the heated air. Castiel enjoyed the sensation…having them tucked away was not comfortable.
“You’re coming back right? When he wakes?”
“I’ll try.”
“He’ll want to know what happened….want to see you.”
Castiel doubted Dean would want to see him once he knew what Castiel had to do to save his life. But it was nice to hear from Sam all the same.
“I shall be back, but I will try to be here when he wakes.”
Castiel didn’t wait for anymore arguments; letting his wings fling him from the room and through time and space and away from his charge. The guilt was still there; a heavy passenger during his flight. He only hoped that Dean could eventually forgive him for what he had needed to do.
Ӂ
Continued.....