Supernatural fic: All The Devils Are Here 4/4 (NC-17 bdsm AU)
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Title: All The Devils Are Here (4/4)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, minor Castiel/Meg, OCs
Genre: AU, bdsm, established relationship, smut, angst, emotional hurt/comfort
Warnings: sub!Dean, bottom!Dean, top!Cas, dom!Cas, minor Castiel/Meg, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and all the bdsm things ie bondage, spanking, whipping, flogging, toys, etc.
Word Count: 4.8k this part. 18.3 all up.
Summary: Castiel descends into the Pit.
Author's Notes: I'm dedicating this fic to my bdsm buddy wallmakerrelict (not as suss as it sounds), and to balder12 because I totally missed her birthday last month!!! And this kinda has post-Alastair/Dean H/C in it, even though it's AU... I'm sorry :s Belated happy birthday <3
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, and should never ever be. No infringement or offense intended.
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3]
~
"The path to paradise begins in hell."
-- Dante Alighieri
~
Of all the things Dean thought might happen when he came back to The Pit tonight, having Cas actually find him there? Never crossed his mind. And now, Dean’s scared. What will Cas think, when he sees Dean here like this? Naked? Tied up? So obviously the plaything of Meg’s twisted enjoyment? What will Cas say, when Dean can’t deny that he willingly submitted to this? Wanted this? Needed this? And how will Cas react, when he realizes how much Dean has been hiding from him?
It’s almost more than he can handle thinking about. If Dean had any sense left in him, he would get the hell out of there. As it is, he’s utterly frozen, trapped by fear far more binding than the heavy cuffs at his wrists and ankles.
Meg doesn’t even turn around when her little minion pulls the curtain open. She just gets right up in his face again, eating up every little nuance of his reaction as Castiel enters the room.
Dean can’t bring himself to look at first. Then he hears Cas stop, just a few feet away, and he can feel Cas’ eyes on him, taking in the whole damn scene. It's impossible to fight the pull any longer.
Dean recognises his own leather pants, slung low on Castiel’s hips, and what must be one of his own black t-shirts, a little loose on Castiel’s leaner frame. The fact that Castiel is wearing Dean’s clothes, and in public, makes him want to fall to his knees at Cas’ feet. Makes him want to scent Cas like a dog, whine at the thought of his own smell all over Cas’ skin. It’s like Cas is wearing Dean’s ownership, for everyone to see. The desire it provokes in Dean is so sharp, it shaves away some of the edge of his fear.
His reaction must be good enough for Meg to finally look for herself, and her eyes light up when she sees what’s come through the door.
“Well, well, Deano!” she croons appreciatively, slowly circling Castiel with an assessing gaze. “Not bad,” she leers. Dean strains against his bonds, clenching his fists and jaw against the curses threatening to spill from his mouth. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at Castiel, like she’s feeling him up with her eyes, imagining which parts she wants to play with first.
No one but Dean gets to look at Cas like that, ever.
“Face of an angel, this one,” Meg coos, grabbing Cas’ chin - and that’s it.
“Hey!” Dean barks, chains rattling as he struggles against his restraints. But before Dean can tell Meg to go fuck herself, Cas grabs her wrist, twisting her hand away from his face. He yanks her forward until she’s flush against his body, and then he’s kissing the hell out of her.
Dean’s jaw drops, too far jolted from shock to be angry at what’s happening, or even confused to begin with.
“What was that for?” Meg breaths when Cas lets her go, gasping for air and face flushed in a way Dean’s rarely ever seen.
“For taking care of him,” Cas replies, matter-of-factly. “Now it’s my turn,” he says, taking the riding crop from her now lax grip. She stumbles backwards without any argument, and that must’ve been some kiss, because Dean’s never known Meg to let anyone tell her what to do.
Then again, Dean knows exactly what Castiel’s kiss can do to someone.
Castiel steps towards the rack, and he’s so close Dean can almost smell him, but he can’t see him anymore. Cas is walking around him, behind him. Again Dean feels the tangible weight of Cas’ eyes on his skin, red with welted lines, criss-crossed all the way down his backside and legs.
Suddenly Dean’s having difficulty breathing. He can’t run. He can’t even hide. Bare and exposed and feeling more exposed than he has in a long time. Not even including the past hour.
Suddenly, Dean feels the crop again. Just a touch, but it’s Cas touching him, seeing him, and that alone makes him sob out loud. He clamps his mouth shut against the sound as soon as it escapes his throat, burying his face in his arm and trying to muffle it. But Cas doesn’t stop, tracing the lines of his welts with the end of the crop, and he can’t stop whimpering. It’s like Cas is inspecting him, discovering exactly what he’s let Meg do to him, every strike and taunt. By the time Cas circles all the way around, finally standing in front of him, Dean is a trembling mess.
He can’t bring himself to look Castiel in the eye, not even when he feels Cas’ fingers on his chin, raising his face.
“Please look at me, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, the slight tremor in his voice soft enough for only Dean to hear.
Dean takes a deep breath, and finally raises his eyes. There’s a weariness in Castiel’s gaze that Dean’s seen before, sadness. But this time it’s almost unbearable, because Dean is the one that caused it.
“How did you find me?” he rasps, his voice hoarse from abuse. Or maybe fear.
“Sam told me everything.”
Dean heart stops altogether. Because from the look on Castiel’s face when he says “everything”… he means everything.
Dean hears a rattling sound, distant and loud at the same time. He realises it’s coming from him, his chains, as he struggles against his bonds, trying to get away.
Then Cas swoops in close, and kisses him.
Dean goes still, completely taken by surprise.
And then he sinks into it, the realisation of how much he’d needed Cas to kiss him then washing over him. It reassures him more than anything Cas could say in that moment. But at the same time, he can sense how different Cas’ kiss feels, heavy with newfound knowledge and so many things still unresolved.
Cas pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, “I understand now, why it was so difficult for you to tell me,” he whispers, stroking Dean’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Dean croaks, feeling flayed open and ashamed of his weakness. “You still shouldn’t have to have heard it from Sam.”
“He had to tell me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known where to look for you. Or why,” Castiel explains. He pulls back, looking Dean in the eyes. “You can tell me yourself later,” he murmurs, giving Dean’s neck a gentle squeeze. “But now, I think I understand what you need,” he says, face hardening with resolve.
Castiel steps back then, disappearing from view altogether, and Dean’s stomach drops. He starts to panic slightly again, whatever endorphins Meg had coaxed out of his stinging flesh, long gone. Then he realises Castiel’s footsteps haven’t gone very far. He can hear Cas’s voice in low conversation nearby. And then he hears a familiar whirring sound, disturbing the air, the sound of a few testing thuds against a leather-clad thigh.
He doesn’t have to look to recognise the sound of a flogger, thick with leather straps, short enough to feel almost like a soft paddle. The longer, thinner ones sting much more sharply, each strap of leather like a whip on its own. But the longer ones require some distance to use. The shorter one means Cas can get as close as he wants.
Dean’s heart races. He can barely even process what’s happening. What’s about to happen.
The minutes are endless. Waiting.
And then he feels it. The first touch.
It’s not the sharp strike he was expecting. Merely a caress, licking across the still red welts on his ass, and the many cool tongues of leather against his heated skin make him shiver. And at the same time there’s something almost gentle in the way Castiel strokes his skin, as if trying to sooth away the pain, the very memory of it, and Dean finds himself moaning at the touch.
But Cas could’ve picked up a feather if that was all he wanted to do, so Dean knows this is all just a prelude to what’s coming.
Sure enough, before long, he feels the first testing strike against his skin. It’s barely enough to hurt, but knowing it’s the first time Cas has ever done anything like this is enough to provoke a reaction. He gasps, feeling the first twitch of arousal between his legs, and instantly craves more.
Instead of another strike though, Cas whips him softly, quickly, circling the flogger, all over. While Dean is a little disappointed, he knows what Cas is doing. He really is trying to erase what Meg’s done to him, using the span of the flogger’s contact to make his entire backside red and welted, effectively erasing the sharp lines left from the thin length of the crop before.
The contact is light, but Dean’s skin begins to throb with that strange combination of swelling warmth and stinging pain anyway. Eventually Cas is satisfied, all of Meg’s marks replaced with his own, fresh and red, and Dean receives another sharp strike on the flesh of his ass.
Dean gasps again, wriggling his hips, unable to stop himself from rubbing his growing erection into the padded bed of the rack.
“Stop that,” Cas commands, striking him again, and Dean whines in his throat as he tries to force himself still.
“You will not seek release until I let you, do you understand?” Castiel says. Dean nods, still overwhelmed at how fast his arousal is taking over him.
“I didn’t hear you.” Castiel hits him again.
“Yes!” Dean rasps, the impact pushing his erection into the bed again, and he practically shakes from the effort it takes to not rub into it like he wants to.
“I’m still very upset, Dean.” Castiel growls, striking him again. “You just disappeared,” Castiel huffs, and Dean can hear in his voice how worried he was.
Dean almost opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can Cas strikes him once again.
“From now on, you will talk to me,” Castiel orders, with yet another. For a moment, Dean has difficulty finding the breath to reply. And it’s not entirely from Castiel’s blows.
“…Yes!” he finally relents.
“You will trust me.” Another snap of leather. “As I have trusted you.” And another. “No more holding back.” Another.
“…Yes!” Dean sobs.
“And you will never, let, anyone, but ME, TOUCH you, like THIS, EVER, AGAIN!” Castiel orders, punctuating his words with strikes so hard and fast that Dean cries out with every one.
“Yes! Yes, Cas! Yes!” Dean screams at the end of it, shaking like the chains of his bonds, still rattling from the successive impact. He barely registers the sound of the flogger dropping to the floor, as in the next moment Cas is pressed up along his back, pressing frantic kisses all over his neck and shoulders, clutching and stroking at his body with possessive hands.
“You belong to me now. Understand?” Cas gasps into his ear.
“Yes!” Dean whimpers as he turns his head to meet Castiel’s lips. It’s a far cry from Castiel’s earlier kiss, now deep and hard and claiming every inch of his mouth, and all too soon it’s over. But then Castiel’s lips are back on his skin again, every kiss followed with whispers of “Mine!” or “Dean!”, covering his neck, spread across his shoulders, every one a claim of possession.
Slowly Castiel mouths down the knobs of his spine, until finally he has to drop to his knees to continue his worshipful trail. He grabs onto Dean’s hips, pulling them back and forcing Dean to jut out his backside, and Dean is half-grateful that the position pulls his cock away from the mattress. Castiel’s kisses are wet and sloppy against his stinging flesh, and Dean doesn’t think he could stop himself from rubbing up against the bed if he tried.
But then Cas reaches back to part his cheeks, and his lips begin to move inwards, and Dean’s knees begin to shake, his breaths coming in short gasps.
Finally Cas presses a soft, reverent kiss against his hole, and Dean stiffens, yanking himself away.
“Hellhound!” he gasps, trying to twist out of Cas’ grip. “Hellhound!”
Cas lets go of him as soon as he hears the safeword, rushing into Dean’s line of vision again.
“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks worriedly. “What is it?”
Dean shakes his head, hiding his face in his arm again, too overwhelmed for words.
He hasn’t been in this situation for so long - cuffed up in front of an eager crowd, about to get fucked. And it’s never been with someone he actually cares about. It’s never meant so much.
After a moment he feels Castiel’s fingers in his hair, combing through it with soothing strokes, tracing the line of his jaw in a familiar caress.
“Dean?” Castiel murmurs, his voice still filled with concern.
“Gimme a minute okay? It’s just… a lot,” he mumbles.
“Too much?” Cas asks quietly.
“… Maybe,” Dean admits. Castiel sighs, leaning in close enough for Dean to feel his breath against the shell of his ear.
“Dean, you’re doing so well,” Castiel murmurs, placing a soft kiss against his temple. “But if you want to stop, that’s alright,” Cas whispers, kissing him again. “Anything you want. Just tell me,” he takes a shaky breath. “I would do anything for you, Dean. I love you. Please let me in.”
Dean lifts his head, stunned. And what he sees in Castiel’s eyes… floors him.
“You’ve given me so much, Dean. Let me take care of you now,” Castiel murmurs, “Let me give you what you need.”
He nods, completely lacking the air to speak.
Castiel kisses him again, soft again, soothing him, but it’s also a promise, and thank you, and so many other things Dean can’t believe he didn’t know until now. He wants to stay there in that moment, just him and Cas, no one else, nowhere else… But it seems Cas is far from finished with him yet.
Cas pulls away, looking up at where Dean’s wrists are cuffed, one chain roped through a hook on the top bar of the rack, connecting both cuffs. Dean’s ankles are strapped separately, keeping his legs slightly spread, and it’s there Castiel goes next. Uncuffing them, he guides Dean around, strapping him in again so his back is laying against the bed of the rack.
The change of position disorients Dean for a moment, making him feel exposed again. He’d already gotten used to the view on the other side of the room, blurred out the watching faces until they didn’t exist anymore. Now there’s a whole new crowd of eyes on him, his erection standing up for their greedy inspection. But the endorphins rushing through his body again help him ease into it a lot faster this time, and when Castiel stands up to kiss him again he no longer cares about anything else.
Cas places one last peck on his lips before quickly turning away, as if removing his lips from Dean’s is becoming more difficult each time. It is for Dean, and he practically whines at the loss.
“Please,” Dean whimpers. Castiel’s back stiffens at the plea, his head turning back minutely towards Dean, but then he turns away again, his voice low in discussion with someone behind the tray of toys. A woman emerges from behind Cas, one of Meg’s cronies, walking around to the back of the rack. And then it’s moving, pulling Dean backwards.
After the initial jolt of surprise passes, he watches Cas for some indication of what’s about to happen, but still Cas doesn’t turn. Instead Cas lifts the hem of the shirt he’s wearing, pulling it over his head and off his arms, exposing the wings tattooed down back. Those same wings Dean had tied over with ropes only this afternoon.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
Dean can’t see how the viewers react as the rack pulls him further back into a horizontal position, but he hears the appreciative murmur that rises at the sight. He feels that possessive twinge in his stomach again, uncomfortable with other people looking at Castiel, but tells himself that those wings deserve the attention. The admiration, and respect. Probably more than one man can give.
As long as they don’t touch.
He doesn’t have much time to stew over it though, as the rack is finally locked into place, and his eyes are drawn to the ceiling. He knows what he’s going to see there, but it’s still a shock. The mirrors hide nothing. The liner around his eyes is smudged and streaked down his face, betraying tears he didn’t even know he’d let fall. Didn’t even know when. But his eyes are… glazed. Not distant, just… unashamed. His skin is flushed red, all over, chest heaving. His erection is still needy, bulging between his spread legs.
The minion from before unlocks his ankle cuffs from the bars around the bed, giving him more space to move, but there’s still chains attached to the cuffs, that clink and rattle as he stretches out his legs. It’s been so long since he’s been strapped down like this, he’s not used to it anymore.
He could get used to it again, though, if Castiel keeps looking at him the way he is now, like Dean is the only other person in the universe.
When he sees the way Cas is staring, he stops his restless fidgeting immediately. Entranced, he watches as Cas’ hands reach towards himself, finding his fly and unzipping. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Dean hisses in a sharp breath of want as Castiel pushes his pants down and his erection bobs free. Another excited murmur rises from the small crowd watching, but Dean barely cares. It’s only him and Cas now, alone in a space of their own creation, becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between them closes.
As he climbs onto the foot of the rack, Cas pushes Dean’s legs further apart, making more space for himself. Crawling forward, he leans down to plant butterfly kisses up the insides of Dean’s thighs. Dean can’t lift his head to see, arms chained above his head as they are, so instead he lets his head fall back, thankful for the mirror that allows him some kind of view.
He sees the back of Cas’ unruly head, inching ever upwards, the muscles under his wings straining and shifting as he moves. And further down, between Cas’ legs, Dean sees the plug he usually makes Cas use, keeping him open for whenever Dean wants him. Cas has had it inside him, all this time, another display of Dean’s ownership, and Dean whines at the thought of it, needing Cas’ lips on him more than ever.
“Please, Cas,” he begs, and Castiel must hear the need in his voice, finally pressing his lips to Dean’s erection. It’s only a kiss, open-mouthed and wet, but it’s so good Dean groans anyway, long and loud. More kisses follow, all over his length, down to his base, interspersed with small kitten-licks, lapping at his skin. His thighs fall open as far as they can go, needing ever more, but Cas pulls them up, pressing them back against his chest. Dean knows this position, what it’s for, but he still jolts when he feels Cas’ tongue lick across his hole.
Dean’s breath becomes rapid with panic. He knows it’s Cas, he can see that in the mirror, but he can’t help his reaction. He tries to force it down this time though, concentrate on Cas’ reflection and the way Cas’ hands stroke his thighs in that familiar, soothing manner. Eventually the pleasure begins to outweigh the panic.
It’s been a while since he’s let anyone do this to him, which makes him extra sensitive to begin with, but his nerves are still stinging with pain after the flogging he’d received, making him doubly sensitive. And Cas’ tongue is so wickedly long, and wet, flicking inside him and circling his rim with a fervour that makes Dean’s thighs shake.
By the time Cas presses his finger against Dean’s hole, Dean’s more than ready for it. He’s so wet, Cas’ finger slides in easy, regardless of how long it’s been. Cas is still careful with him though, watching him for any sign of pain or discomfort, but Dean gives him none. And when Cas presses a second finger against him, Dean nods, letting him in. Cas begins seriously prepping him then, stretching him slowly while still stimulating him enough to keep him aroused, and if Dean had any anxieties left over where this was going, they vanish the moment Cas leans over him, and presses their lips together again.
“Dean, I’m going to make love to you now,” Cas murmurs, “So everyone knows you belong to me.”
A small sound escapes Dean’s throat at that, like a sudden exhale of breath instead of the “Yes” he wants to say, so he can only nod his assent.
A minion rushes forward then, handing Castiel a bottle of lube, and for a second Dean wonders if she was able to hear what Castiel said because she’s just extremely attentive, or if it’s because the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Cas takes the lube, not even bothering to look at her, and then he’s stretching Dean out again, three-fingers wide, until Dean is pushing down for more.
“Please!” he manages to get out, and it’s enough for Cas. He removes his fingers carefully, positioning himself at Dean’s entrance, and soon Dean feels the head of Castiel’s cock breach his hole. It’s an agonizingly slow slide, before Cas is fully seated inside him, and even when they finally lock together, Cas waits impossibly long minutes, carefully watching Dean’s reactions.
Dean, on his part, is watching Castiel just as closely. How he shakes, breathes too hard, the flush on his pale skin all betraying the quiet calm he’s trying to exude. And all for Dean’s benefit. Dean leans up to kiss him, trying to tell Cas with his body how he needs, and finally Cas begins to move.
His thrusts are slow at first, still cautious. Dean’s had bigger inside him, but it’s been a long time, so he feels as tight as his first time. But he’s no virgin, so he knows how to relax himself, how to open himself up completely, and before long Castiel is thrusting deep and steady.
Dean groans, dropping his head back as heat starts pulsing through him, pleasure rising up through his body. He can see Castiel in the mirror, rocking into him, the wings tattooed on his back moving up and down in slow beats. He wishes he could touch, hold, but all he can do is try to meet Castiel’s thrusts with his own, and watch.
Maybe it’s only fair, since Castiel was similarly cuffed the first time Dean took him to bed. But that was just Dean’s standard mode of operation back then. Just the way he got his kicks. He hadn’t even known Cas’ name at the time. Even though he already knew he wanted more from him, looking back on it. He even remembers wanting to screw Cas right in front of his bathroom mirror, when he first saw Cas’ wings, so he could look at them and Castiel’s angel-face at the same time.
Castiel had no idea what he was in for then.
But this now, it’s entirely different. He knows Castiel now. And Castiel knows him. In a way he’s never let anyone know him before. And Castiel is claiming him. Every last bit of him. With his kisses, his hands, his body, the look in his eyes, like he’s seeing right through to Dean’s very soul… It’s overwhelming, and soon Dean’s vision becomes blurry with tears.
His voice cracks, as he moans Cas’ name. He has been for some time now, over and over again, soft and needy as Castiel drives into him, sure and strong. But he can barely hold himself together anymore, devastated by the devotion in Castiel’s eyes, utterly broken open by it.
“It’s alright, Dean, I’ve got you.” Castiel gasps, “You’re mine now, and I’m not going to let you go.”
Dean nods, trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill down his face.
“I need you to say it, Dean.” Cas breaths, “Say it for me, so everyone knows. Including you."
“Cas…” Dean chokes out.
“Trust me, Dean, I’m not going anywhere, ever. I belong to you too, you know.”
He does now.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours!”
“Yes!” Cas moans, “Let go! Now, Dean!”
“Cas!” he sobs. And then he’s coming, words of love and adoration poured back into his ears as Castiel holds onto him, releasing himself as well as Dean’s body climaxes and clenches, milking him dry. It's been so long since Dean’s come like this, from the inside out. And even then nothing has ever compared to how he feels right now, with Cas inside him, filling him up in ways he wasn’t aware he’d needed, finding every dark crack inside his soul and filling them all with light and hope and bliss until he’s bursting with it.
“I love you, Cas,” he gasps breathlessly in the aftermath, and Castiel smiles.
“Look how strong you are,” he murmurs, his eyes full of pride and love as he gazes down at Dean.
He reaches up to Dean’s cuffs, working to free his wrists with shaky arms. Or maybe it’s Dean who’s shaking, and the tremors are running all the way through Cas’ body. Either way, as soon as he’s free he grabs onto Castiel, holding on as tight as he can as he pulls Castiel down to kiss him. He barely notices the rapturous round of applause that rises around them, the appreciative murmuring as their audience begins to leave.
Afterwards Cas pulls away and just looks at him again, so he barely notices Cas squirming, manoeuvering himself, until he finally sees in the mirror that Cas has reached around behind himself to remove his plug. Dean's eyes fly wide when he feels it being pressed at his sensitive entrance, but when he realizes what Cas means to do he relaxes, letting Cas slide it inside him until it's seated securely.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cas says into his ear, and Dean nods, frantically, peppering Cas face with more kisses before letting go. Cas moves backwards to remove the cuffs from his ankles, and he pushes himself up, still a little shaky and still needing more breath than he has. Cas is with him every step of the way though, helping him off the rack onto wobbly legs, wiping him down with a towel provided by their attentive minion. Cas even stays close as they get dressed again, unable to stop touching him or kissing him, quick and soft, whenever possible.
“Well boys, that was quite a show! Hugs and puppies all around!” Meg’s voice cuts into their quiet bubble. Dean stiffens, turning to face her.
“Yeah, well, thanks for the use of your rack,” he replies. “And thanks for earlier,” he adds, because it’s just professional courtesy, even though the smile Meg gives him at that makes his skin crawl.
“Listen, Clarence,” Meg turns to Cas, “A sweet kid called Inias caught your little performance just now, and would like to invite you to one of the private rooms upstairs.”
“Um…” Cas blanches, “Tell him I’m very flattered, but I’m exclusive now,” he replies, reaching out to take Dean’s hand. Dean smiles, squeezing back.
“Ugh. Whatever,” Meg rolls her eyes. “Well, when you two decide you’re solid enough to come play again, you know where to find us,” she waves dismissively before breezing off.
Finally alone, Dean turns to Cas, kissing him again. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks quietly, “There’s some pretty good toys upstairs.”
A small, amused smile curls at the corner of Castiel’s lips, but he shakes his head. “The next time I chain you up, it’s going to be for days,” he replies, low, and sure, and full of heat.
Dean’s knees go weak, at the thought of what’s waiting for him, and the unspoken promises in Castiel’s eyes.
“You’ll be calling out my name for the rest of your life, Dean Winchester.”
~ fin
much, MUCH later… just because…
Castiel: You’ve been so good for me, so very obedient and trusting and so very patient with me as I’ve fumbled my way through this learning process. But while I have no doubt that by now you would do anything I ask of you, I feel I must, in good conscious, ask for your permission. Inias my pet, if I asked you to service Dean, would you consent?
Inias: I would gladly bring pleasure to the man my master loves.
me: … Maybe next Halloween X_X
.
Title: All The Devils Are Here (4/4)
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, minor Castiel/Meg, OCs
Genre: AU, bdsm, established relationship, smut, angst, emotional hurt/comfort
Warnings: sub!Dean, bottom!Dean, top!Cas, dom!Cas, minor Castiel/Meg, public sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism, and all the bdsm things ie bondage, spanking, whipping, flogging, toys, etc.
Word Count: 4.8k this part. 18.3 all up.
Summary: Castiel descends into the Pit.
Author's Notes: I'm dedicating this fic to my bdsm buddy wallmakerrelict (not as suss as it sounds), and to balder12 because I totally missed her birthday last month!!! And this kinda has post-Alastair/Dean H/C in it, even though it's AU... I'm sorry :s Belated happy birthday <3
Disclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, and should never ever be. No infringement or offense intended.
[ Chapter 1] [ Chapter 2] [ Chapter 3]
~
"The path to paradise begins in hell."
-- Dante Alighieri
~
Of all the things Dean thought might happen when he came back to The Pit tonight, having Cas actually find him there? Never crossed his mind. And now, Dean’s scared. What will Cas think, when he sees Dean here like this? Naked? Tied up? So obviously the plaything of Meg’s twisted enjoyment? What will Cas say, when Dean can’t deny that he willingly submitted to this? Wanted this? Needed this? And how will Cas react, when he realizes how much Dean has been hiding from him?
It’s almost more than he can handle thinking about. If Dean had any sense left in him, he would get the hell out of there. As it is, he’s utterly frozen, trapped by fear far more binding than the heavy cuffs at his wrists and ankles.
Meg doesn’t even turn around when her little minion pulls the curtain open. She just gets right up in his face again, eating up every little nuance of his reaction as Castiel enters the room.
Dean can’t bring himself to look at first. Then he hears Cas stop, just a few feet away, and he can feel Cas’ eyes on him, taking in the whole damn scene. It's impossible to fight the pull any longer.
Dean recognises his own leather pants, slung low on Castiel’s hips, and what must be one of his own black t-shirts, a little loose on Castiel’s leaner frame. The fact that Castiel is wearing Dean’s clothes, and in public, makes him want to fall to his knees at Cas’ feet. Makes him want to scent Cas like a dog, whine at the thought of his own smell all over Cas’ skin. It’s like Cas is wearing Dean’s ownership, for everyone to see. The desire it provokes in Dean is so sharp, it shaves away some of the edge of his fear.
His reaction must be good enough for Meg to finally look for herself, and her eyes light up when she sees what’s come through the door.
“Well, well, Deano!” she croons appreciatively, slowly circling Castiel with an assessing gaze. “Not bad,” she leers. Dean strains against his bonds, clenching his fists and jaw against the curses threatening to spill from his mouth. He doesn’t like the way she’s looking at Castiel, like she’s feeling him up with her eyes, imagining which parts she wants to play with first.
No one but Dean gets to look at Cas like that, ever.
“Face of an angel, this one,” Meg coos, grabbing Cas’ chin - and that’s it.
“Hey!” Dean barks, chains rattling as he struggles against his restraints. But before Dean can tell Meg to go fuck herself, Cas grabs her wrist, twisting her hand away from his face. He yanks her forward until she’s flush against his body, and then he’s kissing the hell out of her.
Dean’s jaw drops, too far jolted from shock to be angry at what’s happening, or even confused to begin with.
“What was that for?” Meg breaths when Cas lets her go, gasping for air and face flushed in a way Dean’s rarely ever seen.
“For taking care of him,” Cas replies, matter-of-factly. “Now it’s my turn,” he says, taking the riding crop from her now lax grip. She stumbles backwards without any argument, and that must’ve been some kiss, because Dean’s never known Meg to let anyone tell her what to do.
Then again, Dean knows exactly what Castiel’s kiss can do to someone.
Castiel steps towards the rack, and he’s so close Dean can almost smell him, but he can’t see him anymore. Cas is walking around him, behind him. Again Dean feels the tangible weight of Cas’ eyes on his skin, red with welted lines, criss-crossed all the way down his backside and legs.
Suddenly Dean’s having difficulty breathing. He can’t run. He can’t even hide. Bare and exposed and feeling more exposed than he has in a long time. Not even including the past hour.
Suddenly, Dean feels the crop again. Just a touch, but it’s Cas touching him, seeing him, and that alone makes him sob out loud. He clamps his mouth shut against the sound as soon as it escapes his throat, burying his face in his arm and trying to muffle it. But Cas doesn’t stop, tracing the lines of his welts with the end of the crop, and he can’t stop whimpering. It’s like Cas is inspecting him, discovering exactly what he’s let Meg do to him, every strike and taunt. By the time Cas circles all the way around, finally standing in front of him, Dean is a trembling mess.
He can’t bring himself to look Castiel in the eye, not even when he feels Cas’ fingers on his chin, raising his face.
“Please look at me, Dean,” Castiel murmurs, the slight tremor in his voice soft enough for only Dean to hear.
Dean takes a deep breath, and finally raises his eyes. There’s a weariness in Castiel’s gaze that Dean’s seen before, sadness. But this time it’s almost unbearable, because Dean is the one that caused it.
“How did you find me?” he rasps, his voice hoarse from abuse. Or maybe fear.
“Sam told me everything.”
Dean heart stops altogether. Because from the look on Castiel’s face when he says “everything”… he means everything.
Dean hears a rattling sound, distant and loud at the same time. He realises it’s coming from him, his chains, as he struggles against his bonds, trying to get away.
Then Cas swoops in close, and kisses him.
Dean goes still, completely taken by surprise.
And then he sinks into it, the realisation of how much he’d needed Cas to kiss him then washing over him. It reassures him more than anything Cas could say in that moment. But at the same time, he can sense how different Cas’ kiss feels, heavy with newfound knowledge and so many things still unresolved.
Cas pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, “I understand now, why it was so difficult for you to tell me,” he whispers, stroking Dean’s face.
“I’m sorry,” Dean croaks, feeling flayed open and ashamed of his weakness. “You still shouldn’t have to have heard it from Sam.”
“He had to tell me. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known where to look for you. Or why,” Castiel explains. He pulls back, looking Dean in the eyes. “You can tell me yourself later,” he murmurs, giving Dean’s neck a gentle squeeze. “But now, I think I understand what you need,” he says, face hardening with resolve.
Castiel steps back then, disappearing from view altogether, and Dean’s stomach drops. He starts to panic slightly again, whatever endorphins Meg had coaxed out of his stinging flesh, long gone. Then he realises Castiel’s footsteps haven’t gone very far. He can hear Cas’s voice in low conversation nearby. And then he hears a familiar whirring sound, disturbing the air, the sound of a few testing thuds against a leather-clad thigh.
He doesn’t have to look to recognise the sound of a flogger, thick with leather straps, short enough to feel almost like a soft paddle. The longer, thinner ones sting much more sharply, each strap of leather like a whip on its own. But the longer ones require some distance to use. The shorter one means Cas can get as close as he wants.
Dean’s heart races. He can barely even process what’s happening. What’s about to happen.
The minutes are endless. Waiting.
And then he feels it. The first touch.
It’s not the sharp strike he was expecting. Merely a caress, licking across the still red welts on his ass, and the many cool tongues of leather against his heated skin make him shiver. And at the same time there’s something almost gentle in the way Castiel strokes his skin, as if trying to sooth away the pain, the very memory of it, and Dean finds himself moaning at the touch.
But Cas could’ve picked up a feather if that was all he wanted to do, so Dean knows this is all just a prelude to what’s coming.
Sure enough, before long, he feels the first testing strike against his skin. It’s barely enough to hurt, but knowing it’s the first time Cas has ever done anything like this is enough to provoke a reaction. He gasps, feeling the first twitch of arousal between his legs, and instantly craves more.
Instead of another strike though, Cas whips him softly, quickly, circling the flogger, all over. While Dean is a little disappointed, he knows what Cas is doing. He really is trying to erase what Meg’s done to him, using the span of the flogger’s contact to make his entire backside red and welted, effectively erasing the sharp lines left from the thin length of the crop before.
The contact is light, but Dean’s skin begins to throb with that strange combination of swelling warmth and stinging pain anyway. Eventually Cas is satisfied, all of Meg’s marks replaced with his own, fresh and red, and Dean receives another sharp strike on the flesh of his ass.
Dean gasps again, wriggling his hips, unable to stop himself from rubbing his growing erection into the padded bed of the rack.
“Stop that,” Cas commands, striking him again, and Dean whines in his throat as he tries to force himself still.
“You will not seek release until I let you, do you understand?” Castiel says. Dean nods, still overwhelmed at how fast his arousal is taking over him.
“I didn’t hear you.” Castiel hits him again.
“Yes!” Dean rasps, the impact pushing his erection into the bed again, and he practically shakes from the effort it takes to not rub into it like he wants to.
“I’m still very upset, Dean.” Castiel growls, striking him again. “You just disappeared,” Castiel huffs, and Dean can hear in his voice how worried he was.
Dean almost opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can Cas strikes him once again.
“From now on, you will talk to me,” Castiel orders, with yet another. For a moment, Dean has difficulty finding the breath to reply. And it’s not entirely from Castiel’s blows.
“…Yes!” he finally relents.
“You will trust me.” Another snap of leather. “As I have trusted you.” And another. “No more holding back.” Another.
“…Yes!” Dean sobs.
“And you will never, let, anyone, but ME, TOUCH you, like THIS, EVER, AGAIN!” Castiel orders, punctuating his words with strikes so hard and fast that Dean cries out with every one.
“Yes! Yes, Cas! Yes!” Dean screams at the end of it, shaking like the chains of his bonds, still rattling from the successive impact. He barely registers the sound of the flogger dropping to the floor, as in the next moment Cas is pressed up along his back, pressing frantic kisses all over his neck and shoulders, clutching and stroking at his body with possessive hands.
“You belong to me now. Understand?” Cas gasps into his ear.
“Yes!” Dean whimpers as he turns his head to meet Castiel’s lips. It’s a far cry from Castiel’s earlier kiss, now deep and hard and claiming every inch of his mouth, and all too soon it’s over. But then Castiel’s lips are back on his skin again, every kiss followed with whispers of “Mine!” or “Dean!”, covering his neck, spread across his shoulders, every one a claim of possession.
Slowly Castiel mouths down the knobs of his spine, until finally he has to drop to his knees to continue his worshipful trail. He grabs onto Dean’s hips, pulling them back and forcing Dean to jut out his backside, and Dean is half-grateful that the position pulls his cock away from the mattress. Castiel’s kisses are wet and sloppy against his stinging flesh, and Dean doesn’t think he could stop himself from rubbing up against the bed if he tried.
But then Cas reaches back to part his cheeks, and his lips begin to move inwards, and Dean’s knees begin to shake, his breaths coming in short gasps.
Finally Cas presses a soft, reverent kiss against his hole, and Dean stiffens, yanking himself away.
“Hellhound!” he gasps, trying to twist out of Cas’ grip. “Hellhound!”
Cas lets go of him as soon as he hears the safeword, rushing into Dean’s line of vision again.
“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asks worriedly. “What is it?”
Dean shakes his head, hiding his face in his arm again, too overwhelmed for words.
He hasn’t been in this situation for so long - cuffed up in front of an eager crowd, about to get fucked. And it’s never been with someone he actually cares about. It’s never meant so much.
After a moment he feels Castiel’s fingers in his hair, combing through it with soothing strokes, tracing the line of his jaw in a familiar caress.
“Dean?” Castiel murmurs, his voice still filled with concern.
“Gimme a minute okay? It’s just… a lot,” he mumbles.
“Too much?” Cas asks quietly.
“… Maybe,” Dean admits. Castiel sighs, leaning in close enough for Dean to feel his breath against the shell of his ear.
“Dean, you’re doing so well,” Castiel murmurs, placing a soft kiss against his temple. “But if you want to stop, that’s alright,” Cas whispers, kissing him again. “Anything you want. Just tell me,” he takes a shaky breath. “I would do anything for you, Dean. I love you. Please let me in.”
Dean lifts his head, stunned. And what he sees in Castiel’s eyes… floors him.
“You’ve given me so much, Dean. Let me take care of you now,” Castiel murmurs, “Let me give you what you need.”
He nods, completely lacking the air to speak.
Castiel kisses him again, soft again, soothing him, but it’s also a promise, and thank you, and so many other things Dean can’t believe he didn’t know until now. He wants to stay there in that moment, just him and Cas, no one else, nowhere else… But it seems Cas is far from finished with him yet.
Cas pulls away, looking up at where Dean’s wrists are cuffed, one chain roped through a hook on the top bar of the rack, connecting both cuffs. Dean’s ankles are strapped separately, keeping his legs slightly spread, and it’s there Castiel goes next. Uncuffing them, he guides Dean around, strapping him in again so his back is laying against the bed of the rack.
The change of position disorients Dean for a moment, making him feel exposed again. He’d already gotten used to the view on the other side of the room, blurred out the watching faces until they didn’t exist anymore. Now there’s a whole new crowd of eyes on him, his erection standing up for their greedy inspection. But the endorphins rushing through his body again help him ease into it a lot faster this time, and when Castiel stands up to kiss him again he no longer cares about anything else.
Cas places one last peck on his lips before quickly turning away, as if removing his lips from Dean’s is becoming more difficult each time. It is for Dean, and he practically whines at the loss.
“Please,” Dean whimpers. Castiel’s back stiffens at the plea, his head turning back minutely towards Dean, but then he turns away again, his voice low in discussion with someone behind the tray of toys. A woman emerges from behind Cas, one of Meg’s cronies, walking around to the back of the rack. And then it’s moving, pulling Dean backwards.
After the initial jolt of surprise passes, he watches Cas for some indication of what’s about to happen, but still Cas doesn’t turn. Instead Cas lifts the hem of the shirt he’s wearing, pulling it over his head and off his arms, exposing the wings tattooed down back. Those same wings Dean had tied over with ropes only this afternoon.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
Dean can’t see how the viewers react as the rack pulls him further back into a horizontal position, but he hears the appreciative murmur that rises at the sight. He feels that possessive twinge in his stomach again, uncomfortable with other people looking at Castiel, but tells himself that those wings deserve the attention. The admiration, and respect. Probably more than one man can give.
As long as they don’t touch.
He doesn’t have much time to stew over it though, as the rack is finally locked into place, and his eyes are drawn to the ceiling. He knows what he’s going to see there, but it’s still a shock. The mirrors hide nothing. The liner around his eyes is smudged and streaked down his face, betraying tears he didn’t even know he’d let fall. Didn’t even know when. But his eyes are… glazed. Not distant, just… unashamed. His skin is flushed red, all over, chest heaving. His erection is still needy, bulging between his spread legs.
The minion from before unlocks his ankle cuffs from the bars around the bed, giving him more space to move, but there’s still chains attached to the cuffs, that clink and rattle as he stretches out his legs. It’s been so long since he’s been strapped down like this, he’s not used to it anymore.
He could get used to it again, though, if Castiel keeps looking at him the way he is now, like Dean is the only other person in the universe.
When he sees the way Cas is staring, he stops his restless fidgeting immediately. Entranced, he watches as Cas’ hands reach towards himself, finding his fly and unzipping. He’s not wearing anything underneath, and Dean hisses in a sharp breath of want as Castiel pushes his pants down and his erection bobs free. Another excited murmur rises from the small crowd watching, but Dean barely cares. It’s only him and Cas now, alone in a space of their own creation, becoming smaller and smaller as the distance between them closes.
As he climbs onto the foot of the rack, Cas pushes Dean’s legs further apart, making more space for himself. Crawling forward, he leans down to plant butterfly kisses up the insides of Dean’s thighs. Dean can’t lift his head to see, arms chained above his head as they are, so instead he lets his head fall back, thankful for the mirror that allows him some kind of view.
He sees the back of Cas’ unruly head, inching ever upwards, the muscles under his wings straining and shifting as he moves. And further down, between Cas’ legs, Dean sees the plug he usually makes Cas use, keeping him open for whenever Dean wants him. Cas has had it inside him, all this time, another display of Dean’s ownership, and Dean whines at the thought of it, needing Cas’ lips on him more than ever.
“Please, Cas,” he begs, and Castiel must hear the need in his voice, finally pressing his lips to Dean’s erection. It’s only a kiss, open-mouthed and wet, but it’s so good Dean groans anyway, long and loud. More kisses follow, all over his length, down to his base, interspersed with small kitten-licks, lapping at his skin. His thighs fall open as far as they can go, needing ever more, but Cas pulls them up, pressing them back against his chest. Dean knows this position, what it’s for, but he still jolts when he feels Cas’ tongue lick across his hole.
Dean’s breath becomes rapid with panic. He knows it’s Cas, he can see that in the mirror, but he can’t help his reaction. He tries to force it down this time though, concentrate on Cas’ reflection and the way Cas’ hands stroke his thighs in that familiar, soothing manner. Eventually the pleasure begins to outweigh the panic.
It’s been a while since he’s let anyone do this to him, which makes him extra sensitive to begin with, but his nerves are still stinging with pain after the flogging he’d received, making him doubly sensitive. And Cas’ tongue is so wickedly long, and wet, flicking inside him and circling his rim with a fervour that makes Dean’s thighs shake.
By the time Cas presses his finger against Dean’s hole, Dean’s more than ready for it. He’s so wet, Cas’ finger slides in easy, regardless of how long it’s been. Cas is still careful with him though, watching him for any sign of pain or discomfort, but Dean gives him none. And when Cas presses a second finger against him, Dean nods, letting him in. Cas begins seriously prepping him then, stretching him slowly while still stimulating him enough to keep him aroused, and if Dean had any anxieties left over where this was going, they vanish the moment Cas leans over him, and presses their lips together again.
“Dean, I’m going to make love to you now,” Cas murmurs, “So everyone knows you belong to me.”
A small sound escapes Dean’s throat at that, like a sudden exhale of breath instead of the “Yes” he wants to say, so he can only nod his assent.
A minion rushes forward then, handing Castiel a bottle of lube, and for a second Dean wonders if she was able to hear what Castiel said because she’s just extremely attentive, or if it’s because the room is so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Cas takes the lube, not even bothering to look at her, and then he’s stretching Dean out again, three-fingers wide, until Dean is pushing down for more.
“Please!” he manages to get out, and it’s enough for Cas. He removes his fingers carefully, positioning himself at Dean’s entrance, and soon Dean feels the head of Castiel’s cock breach his hole. It’s an agonizingly slow slide, before Cas is fully seated inside him, and even when they finally lock together, Cas waits impossibly long minutes, carefully watching Dean’s reactions.
Dean, on his part, is watching Castiel just as closely. How he shakes, breathes too hard, the flush on his pale skin all betraying the quiet calm he’s trying to exude. And all for Dean’s benefit. Dean leans up to kiss him, trying to tell Cas with his body how he needs, and finally Cas begins to move.
His thrusts are slow at first, still cautious. Dean’s had bigger inside him, but it’s been a long time, so he feels as tight as his first time. But he’s no virgin, so he knows how to relax himself, how to open himself up completely, and before long Castiel is thrusting deep and steady.
Dean groans, dropping his head back as heat starts pulsing through him, pleasure rising up through his body. He can see Castiel in the mirror, rocking into him, the wings tattooed on his back moving up and down in slow beats. He wishes he could touch, hold, but all he can do is try to meet Castiel’s thrusts with his own, and watch.
Maybe it’s only fair, since Castiel was similarly cuffed the first time Dean took him to bed. But that was just Dean’s standard mode of operation back then. Just the way he got his kicks. He hadn’t even known Cas’ name at the time. Even though he already knew he wanted more from him, looking back on it. He even remembers wanting to screw Cas right in front of his bathroom mirror, when he first saw Cas’ wings, so he could look at them and Castiel’s angel-face at the same time.
Castiel had no idea what he was in for then.
But this now, it’s entirely different. He knows Castiel now. And Castiel knows him. In a way he’s never let anyone know him before. And Castiel is claiming him. Every last bit of him. With his kisses, his hands, his body, the look in his eyes, like he’s seeing right through to Dean’s very soul… It’s overwhelming, and soon Dean’s vision becomes blurry with tears.
His voice cracks, as he moans Cas’ name. He has been for some time now, over and over again, soft and needy as Castiel drives into him, sure and strong. But he can barely hold himself together anymore, devastated by the devotion in Castiel’s eyes, utterly broken open by it.
“It’s alright, Dean, I’ve got you.” Castiel gasps, “You’re mine now, and I’m not going to let you go.”
Dean nods, trying to blink away the tears threatening to spill down his face.
“I need you to say it, Dean.” Cas breaths, “Say it for me, so everyone knows. Including you."
“Cas…” Dean chokes out.
“Trust me, Dean, I’m not going anywhere, ever. I belong to you too, you know.”
He does now.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours!”
“Yes!” Cas moans, “Let go! Now, Dean!”
“Cas!” he sobs. And then he’s coming, words of love and adoration poured back into his ears as Castiel holds onto him, releasing himself as well as Dean’s body climaxes and clenches, milking him dry. It's been so long since Dean’s come like this, from the inside out. And even then nothing has ever compared to how he feels right now, with Cas inside him, filling him up in ways he wasn’t aware he’d needed, finding every dark crack inside his soul and filling them all with light and hope and bliss until he’s bursting with it.
“I love you, Cas,” he gasps breathlessly in the aftermath, and Castiel smiles.
“Look how strong you are,” he murmurs, his eyes full of pride and love as he gazes down at Dean.
He reaches up to Dean’s cuffs, working to free his wrists with shaky arms. Or maybe it’s Dean who’s shaking, and the tremors are running all the way through Cas’ body. Either way, as soon as he’s free he grabs onto Castiel, holding on as tight as he can as he pulls Castiel down to kiss him. He barely notices the rapturous round of applause that rises around them, the appreciative murmuring as their audience begins to leave.
Afterwards Cas pulls away and just looks at him again, so he barely notices Cas squirming, manoeuvering himself, until he finally sees in the mirror that Cas has reached around behind himself to remove his plug. Dean's eyes fly wide when he feels it being pressed at his sensitive entrance, but when he realizes what Cas means to do he relaxes, letting Cas slide it inside him until it's seated securely.
“Let’s get out of here,” Cas says into his ear, and Dean nods, frantically, peppering Cas face with more kisses before letting go. Cas moves backwards to remove the cuffs from his ankles, and he pushes himself up, still a little shaky and still needing more breath than he has. Cas is with him every step of the way though, helping him off the rack onto wobbly legs, wiping him down with a towel provided by their attentive minion. Cas even stays close as they get dressed again, unable to stop touching him or kissing him, quick and soft, whenever possible.
“Well boys, that was quite a show! Hugs and puppies all around!” Meg’s voice cuts into their quiet bubble. Dean stiffens, turning to face her.
“Yeah, well, thanks for the use of your rack,” he replies. “And thanks for earlier,” he adds, because it’s just professional courtesy, even though the smile Meg gives him at that makes his skin crawl.
“Listen, Clarence,” Meg turns to Cas, “A sweet kid called Inias caught your little performance just now, and would like to invite you to one of the private rooms upstairs.”
“Um…” Cas blanches, “Tell him I’m very flattered, but I’m exclusive now,” he replies, reaching out to take Dean’s hand. Dean smiles, squeezing back.
“Ugh. Whatever,” Meg rolls her eyes. “Well, when you two decide you’re solid enough to come play again, you know where to find us,” she waves dismissively before breezing off.
Finally alone, Dean turns to Cas, kissing him again. “Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” he asks quietly, “There’s some pretty good toys upstairs.”
A small, amused smile curls at the corner of Castiel’s lips, but he shakes his head. “The next time I chain you up, it’s going to be for days,” he replies, low, and sure, and full of heat.
Dean’s knees go weak, at the thought of what’s waiting for him, and the unspoken promises in Castiel’s eyes.
“You’ll be calling out my name for the rest of your life, Dean Winchester.”
~ fin
much, MUCH later… just because…
Castiel: You’ve been so good for me, so very obedient and trusting and so very patient with me as I’ve fumbled my way through this learning process. But while I have no doubt that by now you would do anything I ask of you, I feel I must, in good conscious, ask for your permission. Inias my pet, if I asked you to service Dean, would you consent?
Inias: I would gladly bring pleasure to the man my master loves.
me: … Maybe next Halloween X_X
.