"lead me not into temptation," Castiel/Dean, NC-17.
Title: lead me not into temptation.
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating: Low NC-17.
Word count: 532
note: repost from my old fic journal. originally posted 06/19/09.
In retrospect, Castiel should have known. Jimmy was a good man, a moral man, a religious man-but in the end, Jimmy was just a man. Jimmy was no celibate monk; Jimmy hadn't subsisted on bread and water and spent his days kneeling in honest, admirable prayer. Jimmy hadn't strived to become as pure and holy as possible, to become the perfect vessel for an angel of the Lord. Instead, Jimmy had indulged in all-too-human transgressions: he had slothed, had envied, and most importantly, Jimmy had lusted.
This hadn't bothered Castiel, at first. It wasn't a frenzied, vaguely sinful lust like Castiel had observed in Dean as he tangled in bed with nameless strangers (or, more often, pushed them against the walls of back alleys and cheap motel rooms, the taste of alcohol intermingling on their tongues); Jimmy's lust was deceptively slow and stable. It would ease into focus each time he saw his wife's smile, his wife's skin wet after a shower, and Jimmy was content to let these sparks of lust slowly build until the nights he'd interlace his fingers with his wife's on their feather-soft mattress, pressing his lips to her temple as she shivered beneath him.
But Jimmy had lusted, and Castiel's mistake was to assume that when he inhabited Jimmy's body, the hunger of the flesh would subside along with the hunger of the stomach. Jimmy's hunger never left, only coiled deep into his stomach and waited; latched onto Dean's every movement and left Castiel's skin tight, his breaths shallow, his gaze drawn to Dean and his body inching nearer unconsciously, aching to be closer.
Left alone, away from the prying eyes and ears of his brethren, Castiel allowed his thoughts to linger on Dean. Castiel who had known no sin, Castiel who had had his every thought inspected by his superiors and found clean, this same Castiel would imagine Dean's body, all sinew and muscle, spread out like some heavenly offering before him. He'd imagine Dean's full lips parted as he moaned, bucking hard into Castiel's hand, eyes closed, head rolling back. The Dean in Castiel's imagination, he'd breathe, "Jesus Christ, Cas," and out of habit Castiel would turn his eyes to the Lord and cross himself. Castiel, silently praying to his Father for forgiveness, Castiel would imagine his cock thrusting into the tight heat of Dean’s ass, Dean hissing in pleasure and rocking back wantonly, clenching, until Castiel's wings unleashed of their own accord and beat into the air before he could stop himself. Castiel would squeeze his own eyes shut, convince himself for a split second that what he imagined was real, and he'd pant out half-bitterly, "heavenly father, forgive my disobedience," as Jimmy's seed spilled into his hands.
And later, when the real Dean stepped just too close, leaving Castiel's heart racing, Castiel's throat dry-when Dean leaned his head closer still and said, "Look, I think we both know what you want. Why don't you take it already, huh?"-Castiel steeled himself and did not meet Dean's lips with his own; he simply met Dean's gaze with his, hard, relentlessly.
Castiel said, voice even, "I cannot let myself be tempted."
Pairing: Castiel/Dean
Rating: Low NC-17.
Word count: 532
note: repost from my old fic journal. originally posted 06/19/09.
In retrospect, Castiel should have known. Jimmy was a good man, a moral man, a religious man-but in the end, Jimmy was just a man. Jimmy was no celibate monk; Jimmy hadn't subsisted on bread and water and spent his days kneeling in honest, admirable prayer. Jimmy hadn't strived to become as pure and holy as possible, to become the perfect vessel for an angel of the Lord. Instead, Jimmy had indulged in all-too-human transgressions: he had slothed, had envied, and most importantly, Jimmy had lusted.
This hadn't bothered Castiel, at first. It wasn't a frenzied, vaguely sinful lust like Castiel had observed in Dean as he tangled in bed with nameless strangers (or, more often, pushed them against the walls of back alleys and cheap motel rooms, the taste of alcohol intermingling on their tongues); Jimmy's lust was deceptively slow and stable. It would ease into focus each time he saw his wife's smile, his wife's skin wet after a shower, and Jimmy was content to let these sparks of lust slowly build until the nights he'd interlace his fingers with his wife's on their feather-soft mattress, pressing his lips to her temple as she shivered beneath him.
But Jimmy had lusted, and Castiel's mistake was to assume that when he inhabited Jimmy's body, the hunger of the flesh would subside along with the hunger of the stomach. Jimmy's hunger never left, only coiled deep into his stomach and waited; latched onto Dean's every movement and left Castiel's skin tight, his breaths shallow, his gaze drawn to Dean and his body inching nearer unconsciously, aching to be closer.
Left alone, away from the prying eyes and ears of his brethren, Castiel allowed his thoughts to linger on Dean. Castiel who had known no sin, Castiel who had had his every thought inspected by his superiors and found clean, this same Castiel would imagine Dean's body, all sinew and muscle, spread out like some heavenly offering before him. He'd imagine Dean's full lips parted as he moaned, bucking hard into Castiel's hand, eyes closed, head rolling back. The Dean in Castiel's imagination, he'd breathe, "Jesus Christ, Cas," and out of habit Castiel would turn his eyes to the Lord and cross himself. Castiel, silently praying to his Father for forgiveness, Castiel would imagine his cock thrusting into the tight heat of Dean’s ass, Dean hissing in pleasure and rocking back wantonly, clenching, until Castiel's wings unleashed of their own accord and beat into the air before he could stop himself. Castiel would squeeze his own eyes shut, convince himself for a split second that what he imagined was real, and he'd pant out half-bitterly, "heavenly father, forgive my disobedience," as Jimmy's seed spilled into his hands.
And later, when the real Dean stepped just too close, leaving Castiel's heart racing, Castiel's throat dry-when Dean leaned his head closer still and said, "Look, I think we both know what you want. Why don't you take it already, huh?"-Castiel steeled himself and did not meet Dean's lips with his own; he simply met Dean's gaze with his, hard, relentlessly.
Castiel said, voice even, "I cannot let myself be tempted."