!!!-CLOSED TO NEW PROMPTS-!!! SPN & Other Character Prompting Post // October 1st - October 15th

[alycat]

This is a post for ANY AND ALL FICTIONAL CHARACTERS, this includes pairings such as Sam/Dean, Dean/Cas, Anna/Jo, Bobby/Ellen, Clay/Tom, Priestly/Alec etc, etc. All prompts with pairings of people under the age of 18 should be posted to the underage section.

A few reminders:1. Use your subject lines! Please start with either REQUEST or FILLED also

Comments

Re: FILL: Keep Looking for Water - D/C, spanking, praisekink

[anonymous]

"It's very good," Castiel said anyway, settling on his haunches next to Dean, with his knees slightly under the arch of Dean's body. He rested his other hand between Dean's shoulders, just lightly for a moment, then ran it slow and firm down Dean's back. Dean pressed up into the touch, shivering, ready, but Castiel swept his hand back up instead of continuing south. This time it detoured away from Dean's spine, first to trace the scar where Dean had nearly taken a knife to the kidney a few years ago, then to linger on the patch of pebbly, insensate skin where chasing a perp on foot across a half-dozen rooftops had left Dean with, in addition to a dozen bruises and a sprained ankle, four inches of road rash. Dean froze. He'd been in his boxers the other day, when Castiel had watched him with Charlie, but these things weren't always visible from a distance, in Stripes' moody lighting.

Castiel gripped Dean suddenly by the hair, not painfully, but hard enough to command his full attention. "No," he said, smoothing his hand down Dean's back again. "Your body is a marvel. I'm honored to touch you."

Dean was at a loss, but he figured the spanking was about to commence and no comment from him was necessary. The hand moving toward his ass skipped it altogether, though; it touched the back of his thigh instead, so unexpectedly that Dean twitched as though Castiel had struck him after all. Castiel stroked him there with light fingers, along the insides of his thighs and up the backs, close enough to his ass and balls to make his stomach clench with anticipation. At the same time he scraped the nails of his other hand gently through Dean's hair. That was all, for a while; it was such a tease, and it left Dean achingly hard, but to his surprise the slow rhythm and undemanding pleasure of it also soothed some of the tension in his shoulders and back.

"I'm about to begin," Castiel said eventually.

Even with that warning, the first strike of his hand was a surprise, like between the last time and this one Dean had somehow forgotten how pain felt. He jerked against the bed, gripping handfuls of Castiel's dark sheets, and jerked again, gasping, when Castiel's hand descended on him a second time. Castiel worked Dean over with metronomic regularity and unanticipated force, until every inch of Dean's ass was hot and stinging; when it stopped he panted into the sheets, floored by the pain, waiting with combined dread and desire to see if there would be more.

There was. Castiel just stroked Dean's ass and played with his hair for a little while, but the strokes became little flicks of his fingers along the tops of Dean's thighs, then light swats that almost playfully woke the subsiding pain from the first round, and eventually uncompromising blows from the shoulder that shook through Dean's whole body, faster and faster until he was writhing in place and Castiel had to hold him still by the hair. It broke off abruptly, and Dean gulped in a few deep breaths and tried to draw himself neatly back up into his starting position.

"Good," Castiel said, absently, as though to himself, but that one word made Dean feel hot and loose and happy; his ragged breathing hitched, and he bowed his body eagerly. Castiel was still for a moment, and then his hand was on Dean's ass again, kneading first one cheek and then the other, firmly enough to make Dean squirm against his grip. "You're doing beautifully," he said, in a slow, thoughtful voice Dean felt all down his spine. "I couldn't have chosen better than you." Dean opened his mouth to say he knew not what, to thank him maybe, but another hard slap of Castiel's hand drove the words from his head.

He was never aware of going under. He could have pointed out the moment when the pain stopped being shocking and enormous and turned sweet, but not the moment when it ceased to be pain at all and became simply sensation, intensity. It was all of a piece with the desperate throbbing of his cock and the irregular sounds of flesh striking flesh: Castiel's hands and what they were doing to him, Castiel's will worked upon him. Dean gave himself up to it, trembled and flexed with it, wept his acceptance of it into the bedclothes.