Fic: I Broke Apart My Insides, I've Got No Soul To Sell - Part Two
Title: I Broke Apart My Insides, I’ve Got No Soul To Sell - Part Two
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 15,000
A/N: This is set right after ‘My Heart Will Go On’ (with spoilers for all of season six), and was written for dc_dystopia. Also, the title comes from ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails.
Warnings: Blood play, knife play, rimming, rough fingering, asphyxiation, potential dubcon (Dean’s lack of soul, and Castiel’s state of mind), bondage, spanking, general physical violence, rough sex, graphic memories of torture (Hell), brief allusion to past non-con (Hell).
Summary: Two years after Sam Winchester goes to Hell, with the world once again hanging in balance and Castiel hating himself for the decisions he’s been forced into making, Dean Winchester agrees to loan out his soul to power up one of Heaven’s weapons. It’s an alright plan except for the fact that, with Dean’s soul out of the picture - and with Castiel exhausted from the war, and overwhelmed by the pressure of never once letting himself be anything but the perfect little solider - Dean and Castiel seem to be heading towards something that Castiel’s not sure either of them can come back from.
Amazing artwork by rednarcissism can be found here. Please go shower her with praise for being awesome! ♥
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Prologue - Part One
Castiel hears the words even as he struggles to breathe around the fingers on his tongue, and then suddenly the fingers are yanked from his mouth, and there are hands pressed into his hipbones, keeping his body still as Dean just stares at him, something hard etched into the dangerous lines of his face. His mind still spinning from the force of Dean’s palm against his cheek, his body an aching mess of bloody skin, Castiel finds himself struggling to get his thoughts together, and the first thing that sweeps through him is an overwhelming wave of betrayal, because Dean had promised him that he wouldn’t have to think about anything.
“You said you could make me forget.”
He hates how weak his own voice sounds, and Dean’s response is to slide a hand down the side of his thigh, casually resting his fingers above the bloody mess on Castiel’s leg. Castiel feels his entire body twitch away from the contact, knowing how painful it’s going to be if Dean decides to dig his fingers into that wound, but then there’s a dangerous smirk curling around the edges of Dean’s lips.
“Not good enough, Cas. I just cut you up, did my best to drive you away, and yet, you’re still here. Why?”
Castiel spits out a new mess of blood and closes his eyes, a wave of panic sweeping over him as he tries to find some answer that will satisfy Dean, something that will get Dean away from this line of thought. He doesn’t want to think, and here Dean is, hurting him and then taking that away, making him think again, and Castiel almost believes that having that knife back on his skin would be preferable to Dean tearing apart his reasons for subjecting himself to this.
“Is it me? Are you just doing this for me?”
Dean has cupped a hand around his jaw again, bloodstained fingers pressing hard into the bruise that Castiel can already feel forming on his face, and Castiel desperately wishes for Dean’s lips on his own. He pushes his face into the contact, feels a bolt of lust shoot through him as he darts out a tongue to lick the blood from Dean’s fingers, and even over the pain clouding his mind he still hears the hitch of breath as his tongue slides across Dean’s palm.
Then, Dean steps back with a dangerous sound and spins Castiel around, crossing his arms painfully above his head and shoving him into the wall, pressing his body up against Castiel’s back. The sudden movement sends a wave of adrenaline that blanks Castiel’s mind for a second, and then his entire body jolts as a single finger slides across the entrance to his body.
“Talk to me, Cas.”
Dean’s voice is low against his hear, and Castiel can’t stop the whimper that falls from his lips as he struggles in his chains, unsure of whether he wants to twist into or away from that finger. The decision is taken from him when a hand slaps down hard against his ass, sending a wash of pain across his entire lower body, and he finds himself instinctively arching into the painful contact.
“Well, look at that. Kinky little angel.”
The hand comes down again, and again, until Castiel is twisting so hard he thinks he’s going to snap his wrists above him, and his mouth is making pained noises without his consent. It hurts, but Castiel can’t seem to stop craving exactly what Dean is doing now, his awareness narrowing down to nothing except the sensations screaming across his body, and no matter how much this hurts, he never wants it to end.
When it does stop, finally, Castiel finds himself panting for breath, damp streaks down his face, and then Dean presses himself full length against his body again, a hand snaking around his body to wrap around his hardening penis, making him jolt forward into the contact, a sudden wave of need spiking across his entire body.
“Looks like someone’s got a little spanking kink.”
Castiel has a brief, almost hysterical moment of wondering how he ever get himself into this position, and then his mind wipes clean as Dean’s fingers stroke down the length of his penis, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, as though Dean hasn’t forgotten a single thing about Castiel’s body, despite the years they’ve been apart.
“Come on, Cas. You put up with more shit from me than any sane person would. Why are you still here?”
Castiel doesn’t even have time to figure out a way to evade the question before Dean is uncurling his fingers and spinning him around again, untwisting his arms above him so quickly the returning blood flow is painful, and then there’s the sharp edge of a knife pressed against his chest again. Castiel feels his throat move as he chokes down a new wave of fear, but when fingers curl around his penis again, Castiel can’t help but arch into the unexpected touch, and then he hisses and jerks back again as the tip of the knife catches sharp against his skin, the sweeping wave of pain enough to make his stomach turn over.
“Shit, sweetheart - what did I tell you about hurting yourself?”
And then Dean makes a noise that sounds almost disapproving as he drops the knife and slides to his knees on the dirty floor, leaving Castiel whimpering - and hating himself for it - as strong hands press his legs apart until it hurts, the sudden burn on his ass and his leg enough to stop the oxygen in his lungs, as his cock hovers in front of Dean’s face, a thin trail of warm blood seeping down Castiel’s stomach.
Then, Dean is leaning in to nuzzle his face against an unbroken patch of skin on Castiel’s stomach, kneeling on the floor with his fingers still curled into the skin of Castiel’s legs, and Castiel is pretty sure that the only thing that keeps him upright are the chains wrapped around his wrist. He bucks forward when Dean presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of his cock, one hand sliding across the front of his body to curl around the base.
“And I told you I could do this without destroying us. You trust me, don’t ya?”
Castiel is afraid to even try to answer, overwhelmed by the image of Dean shirtless and on his knees, something that Castiel hasn’t seen for two long years - and then Dean’s lips are sucking gently on the blood that has smeared across Castiel’s stomach, the red liquid smearing across the front of Dean’s mouth, and Castiel’s entire mind seems to wash white with the sensation, the splash of pain tearing a yelp from somewhere deep inside him. As he just begins to come back down, it’s to the unexpected warmth of Dean’s mouth suddenly stretched around his cock, and the shock of sensation is more than enough to draw another cry from his throat.
“Dean -”
“Shut up.”
Castiel manages to bite off his words as he squeezes his eyes shut and bucks forward into the hands holding his hips back against the wall, his breathing already coming ragged as his body jolts from pure pain to pure pleasure, the switch happening so abruptly it barely falls on the good side of too much. Castiel can feel the way his legs are trembling as Dean’s tongue flicks across his sensitive skin, the way his penis is swelling back to hardness at the wetness of Dean’s mouth around him, the way his fingers are digging into the manacles above him as Castiel’s body starts to shake apart with almost disconcerting speed - and then Dean is pulling away to leave Castiel’s cock standing drenched and upright in the cool air of the panic room, his gaze flicking up along Castiel’s body to lock onto his eyes.
“That’s more like it.” Dean grins up at him, nothing at all human in the almost feral curl of his lips, but Castiel still feels a shock of pure lust lance through him at the sight. “Can’t be just me having all the fun, can it?”
Castiel swallows around the gratitude in his throat, and then Dean picks up the knife from the ground and slides back to his feet, running his gaze along the length of Castiel’s body, any hint of pleased fondness slipping from his face as his eyes flicker from the bloody mess he’s made of Castiel’s leg, to the smears of red across his stomach, to the white lines etched out across his chest.
“Well, don’t you make a pretty picture. Ready to go again?”
As the sharpness of the blade presses down against his collarbone, and Dean’s eyes rake along his skin as though he wants to carve a place for himself inside, Castiel simply closes his eyes and does his best to steady himself for the next shock of pain - and then there are gentle lips pressed against his own, and Dean is kissing him so gently it’s almost enough to bring tears to Castiel’s eyes.
“Relax, sweetheart. If I want to prove I’m not just the monster Alistair carved me into, I’d best find something else to do with you.”
The words might be meant as reassurance, but as Deans steps back and leaves Castiel to hang naked against the cold wall, Castiel can’t help but hear only a veiled threat - the fact that, if he didn’t have something to prove to himself, then there would be very little keeping Dean from slipping back into that love he had for slicing people up.
Then, he gets distracted - his stupid, frail, lustful human vessel - as Dean throws the knife to the side and slides his jeans and underwear to the floor, kicking them to the side and standing naked in the middle of the room. Castiel isn’t surprised to find that Dean’s cock is hard, pressed up against his stomach, and he feels his entire body lurch with sudden need as Dean crosses back to him, his body moving with a careless abandon that Castiel knows he would never been able to match.
“Dean,” he manages, his mouth actually watering as he flicks his eyes up and down Dean’s body, the pain in his leg momentarily dulling as his body begins to ache from the inside out with the need to touch, “Dean, you -”
“Two goddamn years, Cas, and you never once came to me. You left me to die slowly, day by day, as though we had never meant anything to each other -”
“It was what you wanted,” Castiel manages to choke out, guilt making the sentence stick in his throat, Dean’s words slicing through him as surely as his knife had done. “You wanted a life. Sam wanted you to have a life. There was no place for me -”
“You really thought I wanted fucking white picket fences when I could have had this?”
Dean slaps him, harder than he had the first two times, and Castiel has barely finished swaying from side to side before Dean is pressed full-length up against him, Castiel’s penis sliding damp against the muscle of Dean’s leg, and Castiel could almost cry from how could it feels to finally have Dean’s body back against his - but then he looks into Dean’s eyes, and he can almost feel the blood run icy in his vessel’s veins.
“You really thought, for a moment, that me playing house was going to fix all the shit that’s happened to me?”
Castiel is torn between pushing himself back against the cold wall and pushing himself closer to Dean’s warm body, but either way, he wants somewhere to look at that isn’t Dean, because he can’t remember the last time he saw this particular kind of emotionless cruelty spread across Dean’s face.
“You left me when I needed you most. And now you’re going to pay for that.”
Castiel sucks in a sharp breath as his body is spun around again, arms once again crossed over his head, and he arches his backside out enough to keep his penis from rubbing against the cold wall. The position sends a flush of heat across his face, despite everything that’s already happened tonight, and as Dean crosses the room to Bobby’s desk again, Castiel presses his forehead against the wall and tries to breathe through the guilt that’s making his stomach turn over.
Because Dean is right. Because standing invisible inside Lisa’s house and watching Dean, keeping an eye on him, making sure he was as alright as he could be, given the circumstances - none of that was even close to what Dean had needed. And, maybe, if Castiel had returned to Dean after raising Sam out of Hell, and had actually told him that his brother was free - then, maybe, none of this would be happening.
“Guess you’re out of luck, sweetheart. I can’t find anything down here that could pass for lube.”
As the words slip through the haze of pain that’s still making it difficult to think clearly, Castiel can only close his eyes helplessly, suddenly and acutely aware of the cool air of the panic room, of the way he’s got his back arched out in a manner that makes his body all too available to the man who’s come to stand behind him again.
“And look at you, ass all stuck out like that. Gagging for it anyway, even though you know it’ll hurt.”
Castiel still doesn’t move from his position against the wall, his forehead still pressed against the cool iron, and his arms aching from being stretched above his head for so long. When warm fingers slide down to cup his ass, already digging in with enough pressure to bruise, he simply swallows hard and bucks back into the touch.
“Do whatever you want to me, Dean. If this will help you, then do it.”
There’s a disconcerting silence for a moment, and then Dean’s lips are pressed against his neck, right underneath his ear, breath moving softly across the sensitive skin. Castiel shudders and leans into the touch, only to twist uneasily in his chains as one of Dean’s fingers slides to press against the entrance to his body.
“You can still leave, you know. The only thing keeping you here is you.”
And you, Castiel wants to say, wants to give voice to the fact that he would do anything for Dean, but Dean seems to know that already, and all Castiel does is bow is head and bite down on his lip as the tip of one spit-slick finger slides into his body.
“This will hurt.”
Castiel barely has time to breathe before that finger slides all the way inside him, his muscles protesting the intrusion as they try to force Dean out, and Castiel is dimly aware that he’s making some kind of pained noise, twisting away from the touch and breathing harshly when he remembers that there’s nowhere to go. It’s not nearly enough time before a second finger traces along the rim of his anus, a silent threat that has Castiel biting down a whimper and fighting harder against his chains.
“Said I’d take care of you, Cas.” The words are panted against his ear, and he can feel the hardness of Dean’s penis rubbing its slickness against his leg. “Said I could do this without destroying us. Still trust me enough to do that?”
Castiel barely processes the question before there’s a second finger inside him, not nearly enough spit to ease the way, and Castiel fights with every bit of his power to not reach for his Grace, fighting down the urge to unfurl his wings and escape from this room, from the pain that’s being done to him.
Then, Dean starts to suck kisses along the wings of his shoulders, his fingers stilling inside Castiel as his lips start to explore whatever skin they can reach, and Castiel can’t help but arch into the press of Dean’s mouth, needing the splash of pleasure to keep him protected from the dull ache that’s spreading out from where Dean’s fingers are inside him. It’s only when a hand slides around his body to wrap around his penis that Castiel thinks he might be able to get through this, the sudden rush of pleasure somehow making the pressure inside him into less pain, sending a wave of heat rushing through him, and making him want to be filled up in ways he hasn’t been in years.
“Jesus, I don’t even need a binding spell, do I? You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”
Dean spreads his fingers a little wider inside him, his teeth dragging a thin line down Castiel’s back, and Castiel realizes that he’s suddenly almost sobbing for breath, twisting both into and away from the touch, pain streaking through him even as Dean’s fingers curl upwards inside him and leave Castiel shouting for air.
“You look good like this, Cas.”
Castiel has just begun to get some air back when Dean forces another finger inside his body, too much, way too much all at once, and all pleasure flees Castiel’s body at being stretched too far without being properly prepared for it. He bites down hard against a yell as he arches forward into the wall, but Dean just follows him and pushes in harder, his teeth sinking into Castiel’s neck until Castiel can feel blood begin to trickle across his skin.
Then, the hand around his penis begins to stroke again, but it’s not enough of a distraction from the pain spreading across his insides, and Dean makes an almost annoyed sound when it becomes obvious that Castiel’s penis isn’t going to get any harder in his hand. When he pulls his hand free, it’s to clamp down hard against Castiel’s thigh, as he pulls his fingers free with such suddenness it drags another groan from Castiel’s throat.
“Whatever. I tried.”
He can hear Dean’s hand slide down the length of his own cock, presumes that Dean is slicking himself up with saliva, and then Dean’s there, blunt pressure against the entrance to his already aching body, and Castiel has a fleeting moment of wondering whether this will really help Dean, or whether he will simply hate himself more later - because he had promised to do this without destroying them, without breaking Castiel into something that can’t be put back together again, and what he’s doing, right now, seems the very opposite of that.
It comes to Castiel fleetingly, maddeningly, that for all he knows Dean Winchester, knows him inside and out, knows the numerous and destructive ways in which he does his best to cling to his humanity, he still does not know how humans are meant to deal with trauma, and Castiel suddenly and fiercely hates the limitations that are preventing him from assessing just how much damage Dean is about to do to both of them.
“Dean - Dean, wait, you shouldn’t -”
“Having second thoughts, sweetheart?”
A second hand clamps down against his other hipbone, his body held firmly in place and his arms still strung above his head, and Castiel frantically tries to breathe over all the sensations, the pain that’s been done to so much of his body - tries to find some way to ask if this is actually what Dean wants, or whether this is just going to destroy them.
“You - you said this would be helpful for you - you wanted to see if you were more than that monster -”
“Then leave, Cas.” Fingernails dig hard into his hip, a new splash of pain among all the other injuries. “This will help me - let me get some closure for Hell - but if you need to wimp out, think you don’t deserve this kind of pain for all the angels you’ve slaughtered -”
The wave of shame is overwhelming to the point of being painful, and Castiel cuts off the rough words by twisting his head to awkwardly press his lips against Dean’s, the first thing he’s done all night that wasn’t dictated by someone else, his whole body jerking when Dean’s teeth sink down hard into his lip.
“That a yes, sweetheart?”
Fighting the blinding urge to unfurl his wings and escape, Castiel closes his eyes and manages a curt nod, tasting blood from where Dean had bit him, and then drops his head back to the front as he curls his fingers into the manacles above him, bracing himself for the push of Dean inside him.
“Whatever you need, Dean. If this will help you - then, yes.”
He can hear the resignation in his own voice, the sound of finally giving up on fighting for once, and he sucks in his breath as Dean shifts behind him, digging his fingers in a little tighter as he moves just a little bit closer, and Castiel barely holds back a whimper, his entire body tensing -
A few seconds drag by, and then a few others. Castiel barely dares to breathe, his mind still blanking out as he waits for a new surge of pain - so when Dean finally steps back without a sound, leaving Castiel’s back once again vulnerable to the cool air of the room, Castiel doesn’t quite manage to muffle a rasp of confusion, expecting some new kind of torment before Dean finally makes use of his body.
“Dean?”
His voice wavers dangerously in the otherwise silent room, and he doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t dare to even look back at Dean, the silence just as unnerving as anything else had been.
“Jesus, Cas. There is something seriously wrong with you.”
Unsure of where this is going, and trying to breathe through the sharp ache left behind by Dean’s fingers inside him, Castiel keeps his head bowed as he hears the soft sound of Dean’s bare feet padding across the room. He realizes his entire vessel is shaking - adrenaline, he thinks distantly - and then Dean is back again, his fingers curling hard into the skin of Castiel’s thigh, leaving Castiel trying to figure out whether he wants to press into or away from the touch -
And then the realization hits him like a physical blow. Dean’s fingers are slippery, as though he does indeed have something that could make this about more than just pain for Castiel, and the relieved realization all but steals the air from his lungs.
“You -” Castiel seems to be having issues with finding his voice, and he licks across his bloody lips as his vocal chords try to make sound work. “But I thought -”
“I said I could do this without destroying us. You said that I could have anything I wanted from you. Pretty sure we both just proved our points.”
The words seem to burn him up from the inside out, and Castiel closes his eyes helplessly as Dean’s damp mouth begins to slide down the length of his back, his hands dragging sticky lines down Castiel’s legs as he goes, and his teeth leaving a line of bright pain down Castiel’s spine.
“I may not be feeling much of anything right now, but I know I want you in my life when tonight is over. Lucky for you, that knowledge seems to win out over the fact that I’d still like to fuck my cock into you until you scream at me to stop.”
Castiel can’t stop the full body shudder that runs through his body at the casual emotionless of Dean’s voice, and then there are teeth biting into his skin even as fingers dig into the mess on his thigh, and Castiel can’t help but shout and try to twist away from the sudden flare of pain. He doesn’t get far, though, because Dean simply tightens his grip on Castiel’s leg, and Castiel bites out a whimper as he makes himself hold still, his entire body trembling against the urge to pull away.
“Much better. Now don’t move.”
Castiel tenses as Dean’s fingers flex ever so slightly against the cut on his thigh, but instead of a new wave of blinding pain, he gets a scratch of teeth down the skin of his ass, followed by a tongue sliding across the opening to his body. The flash of heat that burns across his entire vessel leaves him gasping, and when Dean’s tongue begins to slide in damp circles against the sensitive skin, Castiel distantly hears himself let out something that sounds dangerously close to a whine.
“Mmm. Much better.”
There’s a moment of intense pressure against the injury on his thigh, stealing whatever had been left of Castiel’s breath, and then Castiel nearly sobs in relief when Dean’s fingers slide away from his legs to spread him open instead, leaving him exposed and squirming and clinging to the manacles above him to keep him upright. For all that pain is still radiating out across his skin, the slide of Dean’s tongue across the most intimate part of his human body seems to overpower most of the discomfort from all the damage that’s been done to him, and when Dean’s tongue slides fully inside him, slipping against skin that’s already been worked raw by Dean’s fingers, it takes Castiel a long moment to realize that the keening noise in the room is coming from him.
Time seems to slide away after that. Castiel knows that he’s making noises that sound desperate, can distantly feel the Dean’s low laugh rumble against his skin, but all he’s aware of is the heat and wetness inside him, that incendiary touch sending sensation screaming across every nerve of his body, and when three fingers are forced inside his body alongside Dean’s tongue, Castiel can’t help but twist into the touch, even as the sharp ache from the new stretch inside him leaves him squirming helplessly against the chains that hold him tight.
“Dean - Dean, Dean, Dean -”
He can hear himself pleading, can hear Dean laughing, but he can’t think past all the white noise in his head - and then Dean’s tongue and fingers are pulling free abruptly, and Castiel feels himself arching backwards in an attempt to keep the touch, the sudden sensation of emptiness enough to draw a new cry from his throat.
“No -”
“S’okay, sweetheart. I’m not done with you yet.”
Three fingers are shoved back inside him, slick with something more than just spit this time, and Castiel is twisting into the touch before he even realizes it, gratitude burning him up as surely as the feeling of Dean’s fingers inside his body - and then he cries out sharply when Dean’s fingers curl roughly upwards, spreading him open while sending a new wave of need across his body.
“Dean -”
“Yeah, alright. I’m sick of waiting.”
Castiel’s world seems to tilt a little as the fingers leave him, and then Dean is sliding up the length of his back, digging his fingers into the curve of Castiel’s hipbones, and pressing his penis into the slippery mess at the entrance to his body, even as teeth dig into the side of Castiel’s neck - and Castiel barely has time to open his mouth at the bite of pain before Dean slowly begins to push inside him, and then Castiel’s mind wipes out from the sudden pressure and stretch against his oversensitive skin.
“Breathe.”
The word is low against his ear, and with a sharp buck of his hips Dean is inside him, past the original resistance and pushing in hard, and Castiel can hear himself gasping as he twists away from the sudden burn, his fingers scrabbling uselessly for purchase against the cold manacles around his wrists - until a hand comes down to curl around his penis, a long and solid stroke of Dean’s slippery fingers that sends a wave of heat across his entire body, and Castiel can hear himself making a noise that sounds the very opposite of pain, even as he feels Dean continue his relentless slide into Castiel’s body.
“Dean -”
His voice sounds absolutely wrecked to his own ears, a hoarse disaster of the already low voice that normally comes through his throat, and when Dean chooses that moment to scrape his teeth along the sensitive curve of Castiel’s neck, whatever Castiel was going to say is lost under the low groan that slides free. Distantly, even through the sharp ache inside him and the sparks of pleasure spiking out from where Dean’s hand is wrapped around him, he can feel the pleased smirk against his neck as Dean slides even further inside him, and then Castiel is left panting for air as he feels Dean seat himself deep inside him, his hand around Castiel’s penis still stroking softly.
“And you were gonna let me fuck you dry. Masochistic little angel.”
Castiel gets a small amount of gratification from the tightness in Dean’s voice - from the way Dean is finally sounding anything but perfectly composed for the first time since this entire thing started - but that satisfaction is short-lived, because Dean is already beginning to rock against him, gentle movements that nevertheless give Castiel little time to adjust, and Castiel squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to relax his muscles and convince his body to open up around Dean.
“Best keep your ass stuck out like that, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to rub your dick raw against the wall.”
Dean is already shifting behind him as he speaks, and Castiel bites down against a wave of panic as he struggles to brace himself, his arms twisting uselessly above him as he arches his body and tries to find purchase on the cold floor beneath his bare feet. There’s a slow burn as Dean pulls almost completely out of him, and then the hand around his penis is gone, and Dean is gripping tight to both sides of his body, fingers curled in hard against the arches of his hipbones. Castiel barely has time to realize that Dean is bracing him before there’s a sharp thrust inside him, and when the only thing that stops Castiel from slamming into the wall is the tight grip that Dean has on his hips, the pained gasp that rips from his lips is matched by a noise of annoyance from behind him.
“Fuck this.”
There’s a new shock of pain as Dean pulls his penis out of Castiel’s tired body, leaving him empty and aching and hanging limply against the wall, and then Castiel hears a muttered curse and the sounds of Dean fumbling with something - and then Dean is back again, hard and hot against Castiel’s back, reaching above him to where his wrists are chained to the wall -
A sharp clicking noise fills the room, and Castiel’s world washes white as his arms come sliding down, the sudden rush of blood like a dose of fire through his veins. The only thing that keeps him upright is Dean’s arms around him, catching him as he pitches forward and starts to slide down the wall, and then Castiel is being pushed to his hands and knees on the cold iron floor, his trembling limbs barely holding him upright as Dean curls up around him from behind.
“There. Now I can fuck you properly.”
Dean is pushing back inside his body before Castiel even has a chance to brace himself, and then Castiel’s left scrambling to find purchase on the cold floor as Dean starts to move immediately, pull back roughly and shoving in hard again, his teeth never straying far from where they’ve latched back on to the curve of Castiel’s neck. Castiel can hear himself making helpless noises, the sharp movements forcing his body open whether it wants it or not, and then he’s arching desperately when a hand curls around his penis, stroking him rough and fast and leaving him shuddering for more.
“Dean -”
“You always were a good fuck, Cas.”
The words make him ache more than anything else does, twisting inside him and drawing a hurt sound from his throat, but his vision is starting to blur around the edges as Dean keeps up the movement of his hand, his fingers and palm taking Castiel apart in ways that show he hasn’t forgotten anything over the last two years, and Castiel distantly realizes that he might be able to get through this without breaking apart completely.
Then, a sweat-stained palm comes to rest over his aching stomach, curling over the mess Dean had made when he cut him open earlier, and Castiel doesn’t realize he’s trying to pull away until Dean goes still behind him, his breath coming hot and fast against Castiel’s ear.
“You said you’d give me anything, sweetheart.”
The fingers on his stomach press down slightly, a sudden shock of sensation, and it takes everything Castiel has to remain where he is, his lips pressed tightly together and his skin almost vibrating with the effort of holding still.
“Dean -”
His voice is a barely there thing, trailing off completely as Dean begins to draw bloody circles against the untouched skin of his stomach, and then Dean grins against his neck, a flash of lips and teeth that Castiel can feel across his entire body.
“You really are a sucker for me, aren’t you.”
And then Dean is moving again, thrusting hard against him and jerking his hand around Castiel’s penis, and Castiel closes his eyes as he spreads his palm out on the cold floor and tries to brace himself, doing his best to ignore the pain coming from the fingers trailing across his stomach. He focuses instead on the pain of Dean stretching him apart, the discomfort of the floor beneath his knees and palms, the sound of his own shattered voice over the noises of their ragged breathing - because this, here, even with all the pain, is still better than the nothing he’s had for years, and he’s going to cling to every second of Dean’s body pressed up against his.
Then, a change in angle has him shouting, and Dean is laughing against his ear, driving hard into him and scraping across the spot that sends waves of heat across his skin, leaving him torn between pushing back against Dean and pulling away from the hand on his stomach, his body ricocheting back and forth between too many sensations. Somewhere along the way, somewhere in between the combination of pain and pleasure, Castiel’s mind starts to fog over, his body finally reaching the point of too much, and the release that slams through him steals away what was left of his voice, colouring his vision and sucking all the air out of the room as he slumps forward, his elbows hitting the floor hard and his eyes blurring from the force of his orgasm.
He’s distantly aware of Dean muttering something against his neck, the sharp movements of his penis inside Castiel never stopping as Castiel shakes through his orgasm, Dean pushing his body past the point of oversensitivity as Castiel squirms desperately against the cold floor - but when Dean finally breaks apart behind him, thrusting in hard and holding Castiel tight against his body, groaning low against his neck and releasing deep inside him, Castiel still hears himself whimpering as he pushes back even further into the contact, desperately trying to make the moment last as long as possible.
There’s a long moment of silence, then, as Dean slumps damp and heavy against his back, one hand still pressed across the bloody mess of his stomach, and the other digging in hard against his hip, as Castiel struggles to make his muscles hold their bodies off the floor. Dean is panting softly against his ear, a gentle movement of air that sends chill across Castiel’s burning skin, and then an arm is wrapping solidly around his chest, nearly crushing the remaining air out of his lungs as Dean squeezes down hard, pushing their bodies even closer together as Dean presses his damp mouth to Castiel’s neck.
“You feel good against me like this, sweetheart.”
Covered in blood and semen and aching from the inside out, feeling wrecked in every possible way and still shaking from the sensation of Dean buried inside him, Castiel knows that the words have nothing to do with any kind of emotional connection, that Dean is simply just enjoying the base sensation of Castiel’s body pressed against his - and after two long years of fighting alone to keep the world from burning down, the sound of Dean’s voice whispered in his ear like that is enough to make Castiel’s eyes begin to burn from something that has absolutely nothing to do with physical pain.
“Dean.”
There’s an unimpressed huff against his skin, and then Dean is scraping his teeth along the side of his neck, adding to the collection of marks already there and drawing a flinch from Castiel’s body, even as Dean’s arm around him holds him firmly in place.
“Yeah?”
“I want you back.”
There’s silence for another long moment, broken only by the soft movement of the fan above them, oddly loud now that that the room is no longer filled with the sounds of their voices and bodies coming together - and when Dean doesn’t pull away like Castiel had expected him to, something deep inside of him starts to feel shattered in a good way, and he sucks in an almost panicked breath as he gets the words out.
“I don’t want this to be the only time we do this. I want - I need you back in my life. I need to know that I don’t have to fight this war alone, that you’ll let me help you with more than just following leads, that you and I -”
“Shut the fuck up, Cas. You’re ruining my afterglow.”
It’s akin to those times when an angel’s blade has made contact with his skin, and Castiel can’t stop the punched out hurt noise that slides free of his lungs, can’t stop his stomach from seizing up and his skin from flashing hot as he finds himself suddenly bucking hard against Dean, the unexpected movement sending the hunter scrambling to keep hold of Castiel’s body. There’s a bitten out curse from behind him, and then Dean is sliding his spent penis free of Castiel’s body, a rough drag that sends a flash of pain across Castiel’s entire lower half - and then that pain is forgotten when Dean digs hard hands into his shoulders and turns him over, pressing him down hard against the cold floor and splaying a rough hand out across his chest.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Castiel tries to speak, tries to convey the multitude of emotions that are washing across his battered body, but his throat is itching and his eyes are burning and everything inside him hurts and why did he ever think this was a good idea -
“Fucking hell, Cas.”
He doesn’t realize he’s breathing out something that sounds like a sob until soft lips are pressed against his own, swallowing up the sound and turning him inside out all over again, as the gentle touch screams through him in sharp contrast to everything else Dean has done to him tonight, leaving Castiel shaking against Dean and blinking hard against the moisture in his eyes. Then, breaking the kiss with only the tiniest hint of teeth, Dean climbs to his feet and stares down at him for a long moment, naked and covered in blood and without a single flicker of human expression behind his eyes, despite the gentle way his lips had just been moving against Castiel’s.
“Don’t fucking ask me to talk feelings, Cas. Not when I’m like this. Come to me when I’m back in one soulful piece, and maybe then you’ll get the answer you want.”
And as Dean turns to walk away from him - as he crosses the room to where his clothes are, leaving Castiel to lie naked and aching on the cold iron floor, his eyes still burning and his lips still tingling from the shock of Dean’s mouth against his own - Castiel closes his eyes, a moment of desperate hope flaring up inside him - because despite the world of pain that has been done to him tonight, a promise to talk when this is all over is still better than anything Castiel has gotten from Dean in years, and that promise alone makes every smear of blood across his skin worth it.
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 15,000
A/N: This is set right after ‘My Heart Will Go On’ (with spoilers for all of season six), and was written for dc_dystopia. Also, the title comes from ‘Closer’ by Nine Inch Nails.
Warnings: Blood play, knife play, rimming, rough fingering, asphyxiation, potential dubcon (Dean’s lack of soul, and Castiel’s state of mind), bondage, spanking, general physical violence, rough sex, graphic memories of torture (Hell), brief allusion to past non-con (Hell).
Summary: Two years after Sam Winchester goes to Hell, with the world once again hanging in balance and Castiel hating himself for the decisions he’s been forced into making, Dean Winchester agrees to loan out his soul to power up one of Heaven’s weapons. It’s an alright plan except for the fact that, with Dean’s soul out of the picture - and with Castiel exhausted from the war, and overwhelmed by the pressure of never once letting himself be anything but the perfect little solider - Dean and Castiel seem to be heading towards something that Castiel’s not sure either of them can come back from.
Amazing artwork by rednarcissism can be found here. Please go shower her with praise for being awesome! ♥
- - -
Prologue - Part One
Castiel hears the words even as he struggles to breathe around the fingers on his tongue, and then suddenly the fingers are yanked from his mouth, and there are hands pressed into his hipbones, keeping his body still as Dean just stares at him, something hard etched into the dangerous lines of his face. His mind still spinning from the force of Dean’s palm against his cheek, his body an aching mess of bloody skin, Castiel finds himself struggling to get his thoughts together, and the first thing that sweeps through him is an overwhelming wave of betrayal, because Dean had promised him that he wouldn’t have to think about anything.
“You said you could make me forget.”
He hates how weak his own voice sounds, and Dean’s response is to slide a hand down the side of his thigh, casually resting his fingers above the bloody mess on Castiel’s leg. Castiel feels his entire body twitch away from the contact, knowing how painful it’s going to be if Dean decides to dig his fingers into that wound, but then there’s a dangerous smirk curling around the edges of Dean’s lips.
“Not good enough, Cas. I just cut you up, did my best to drive you away, and yet, you’re still here. Why?”
Castiel spits out a new mess of blood and closes his eyes, a wave of panic sweeping over him as he tries to find some answer that will satisfy Dean, something that will get Dean away from this line of thought. He doesn’t want to think, and here Dean is, hurting him and then taking that away, making him think again, and Castiel almost believes that having that knife back on his skin would be preferable to Dean tearing apart his reasons for subjecting himself to this.
“Is it me? Are you just doing this for me?”
Dean has cupped a hand around his jaw again, bloodstained fingers pressing hard into the bruise that Castiel can already feel forming on his face, and Castiel desperately wishes for Dean’s lips on his own. He pushes his face into the contact, feels a bolt of lust shoot through him as he darts out a tongue to lick the blood from Dean’s fingers, and even over the pain clouding his mind he still hears the hitch of breath as his tongue slides across Dean’s palm.
Then, Dean steps back with a dangerous sound and spins Castiel around, crossing his arms painfully above his head and shoving him into the wall, pressing his body up against Castiel’s back. The sudden movement sends a wave of adrenaline that blanks Castiel’s mind for a second, and then his entire body jolts as a single finger slides across the entrance to his body.
“Talk to me, Cas.”
Dean’s voice is low against his hear, and Castiel can’t stop the whimper that falls from his lips as he struggles in his chains, unsure of whether he wants to twist into or away from that finger. The decision is taken from him when a hand slaps down hard against his ass, sending a wash of pain across his entire lower body, and he finds himself instinctively arching into the painful contact.
“Well, look at that. Kinky little angel.”
The hand comes down again, and again, until Castiel is twisting so hard he thinks he’s going to snap his wrists above him, and his mouth is making pained noises without his consent. It hurts, but Castiel can’t seem to stop craving exactly what Dean is doing now, his awareness narrowing down to nothing except the sensations screaming across his body, and no matter how much this hurts, he never wants it to end.
When it does stop, finally, Castiel finds himself panting for breath, damp streaks down his face, and then Dean presses himself full length against his body again, a hand snaking around his body to wrap around his hardening penis, making him jolt forward into the contact, a sudden wave of need spiking across his entire body.
“Looks like someone’s got a little spanking kink.”
Castiel has a brief, almost hysterical moment of wondering how he ever get himself into this position, and then his mind wipes clean as Dean’s fingers stroke down the length of his penis, pressing with just the right amount of pressure, as though Dean hasn’t forgotten a single thing about Castiel’s body, despite the years they’ve been apart.
“Come on, Cas. You put up with more shit from me than any sane person would. Why are you still here?”
Castiel doesn’t even have time to figure out a way to evade the question before Dean is uncurling his fingers and spinning him around again, untwisting his arms above him so quickly the returning blood flow is painful, and then there’s the sharp edge of a knife pressed against his chest again. Castiel feels his throat move as he chokes down a new wave of fear, but when fingers curl around his penis again, Castiel can’t help but arch into the unexpected touch, and then he hisses and jerks back again as the tip of the knife catches sharp against his skin, the sweeping wave of pain enough to make his stomach turn over.
“Shit, sweetheart - what did I tell you about hurting yourself?”
And then Dean makes a noise that sounds almost disapproving as he drops the knife and slides to his knees on the dirty floor, leaving Castiel whimpering - and hating himself for it - as strong hands press his legs apart until it hurts, the sudden burn on his ass and his leg enough to stop the oxygen in his lungs, as his cock hovers in front of Dean’s face, a thin trail of warm blood seeping down Castiel’s stomach.
Then, Dean is leaning in to nuzzle his face against an unbroken patch of skin on Castiel’s stomach, kneeling on the floor with his fingers still curled into the skin of Castiel’s legs, and Castiel is pretty sure that the only thing that keeps him upright are the chains wrapped around his wrist. He bucks forward when Dean presses a kiss to the sensitive skin of his cock, one hand sliding across the front of his body to curl around the base.
“And I told you I could do this without destroying us. You trust me, don’t ya?”
Castiel is afraid to even try to answer, overwhelmed by the image of Dean shirtless and on his knees, something that Castiel hasn’t seen for two long years - and then Dean’s lips are sucking gently on the blood that has smeared across Castiel’s stomach, the red liquid smearing across the front of Dean’s mouth, and Castiel’s entire mind seems to wash white with the sensation, the splash of pain tearing a yelp from somewhere deep inside him. As he just begins to come back down, it’s to the unexpected warmth of Dean’s mouth suddenly stretched around his cock, and the shock of sensation is more than enough to draw another cry from his throat.
“Dean -”
“Shut up.”
Castiel manages to bite off his words as he squeezes his eyes shut and bucks forward into the hands holding his hips back against the wall, his breathing already coming ragged as his body jolts from pure pain to pure pleasure, the switch happening so abruptly it barely falls on the good side of too much. Castiel can feel the way his legs are trembling as Dean’s tongue flicks across his sensitive skin, the way his penis is swelling back to hardness at the wetness of Dean’s mouth around him, the way his fingers are digging into the manacles above him as Castiel’s body starts to shake apart with almost disconcerting speed - and then Dean is pulling away to leave Castiel’s cock standing drenched and upright in the cool air of the panic room, his gaze flicking up along Castiel’s body to lock onto his eyes.
“That’s more like it.” Dean grins up at him, nothing at all human in the almost feral curl of his lips, but Castiel still feels a shock of pure lust lance through him at the sight. “Can’t be just me having all the fun, can it?”
Castiel swallows around the gratitude in his throat, and then Dean picks up the knife from the ground and slides back to his feet, running his gaze along the length of Castiel’s body, any hint of pleased fondness slipping from his face as his eyes flicker from the bloody mess he’s made of Castiel’s leg, to the smears of red across his stomach, to the white lines etched out across his chest.
“Well, don’t you make a pretty picture. Ready to go again?”
As the sharpness of the blade presses down against his collarbone, and Dean’s eyes rake along his skin as though he wants to carve a place for himself inside, Castiel simply closes his eyes and does his best to steady himself for the next shock of pain - and then there are gentle lips pressed against his own, and Dean is kissing him so gently it’s almost enough to bring tears to Castiel’s eyes.
“Relax, sweetheart. If I want to prove I’m not just the monster Alistair carved me into, I’d best find something else to do with you.”
The words might be meant as reassurance, but as Deans steps back and leaves Castiel to hang naked against the cold wall, Castiel can’t help but hear only a veiled threat - the fact that, if he didn’t have something to prove to himself, then there would be very little keeping Dean from slipping back into that love he had for slicing people up.
Then, he gets distracted - his stupid, frail, lustful human vessel - as Dean throws the knife to the side and slides his jeans and underwear to the floor, kicking them to the side and standing naked in the middle of the room. Castiel isn’t surprised to find that Dean’s cock is hard, pressed up against his stomach, and he feels his entire body lurch with sudden need as Dean crosses back to him, his body moving with a careless abandon that Castiel knows he would never been able to match.
“Dean,” he manages, his mouth actually watering as he flicks his eyes up and down Dean’s body, the pain in his leg momentarily dulling as his body begins to ache from the inside out with the need to touch, “Dean, you -”
“Two goddamn years, Cas, and you never once came to me. You left me to die slowly, day by day, as though we had never meant anything to each other -”
“It was what you wanted,” Castiel manages to choke out, guilt making the sentence stick in his throat, Dean’s words slicing through him as surely as his knife had done. “You wanted a life. Sam wanted you to have a life. There was no place for me -”
“You really thought I wanted fucking white picket fences when I could have had this?”
Dean slaps him, harder than he had the first two times, and Castiel has barely finished swaying from side to side before Dean is pressed full-length up against him, Castiel’s penis sliding damp against the muscle of Dean’s leg, and Castiel could almost cry from how could it feels to finally have Dean’s body back against his - but then he looks into Dean’s eyes, and he can almost feel the blood run icy in his vessel’s veins.
“You really thought, for a moment, that me playing house was going to fix all the shit that’s happened to me?”
Castiel is torn between pushing himself back against the cold wall and pushing himself closer to Dean’s warm body, but either way, he wants somewhere to look at that isn’t Dean, because he can’t remember the last time he saw this particular kind of emotionless cruelty spread across Dean’s face.
“You left me when I needed you most. And now you’re going to pay for that.”
Castiel sucks in a sharp breath as his body is spun around again, arms once again crossed over his head, and he arches his backside out enough to keep his penis from rubbing against the cold wall. The position sends a flush of heat across his face, despite everything that’s already happened tonight, and as Dean crosses the room to Bobby’s desk again, Castiel presses his forehead against the wall and tries to breathe through the guilt that’s making his stomach turn over.
Because Dean is right. Because standing invisible inside Lisa’s house and watching Dean, keeping an eye on him, making sure he was as alright as he could be, given the circumstances - none of that was even close to what Dean had needed. And, maybe, if Castiel had returned to Dean after raising Sam out of Hell, and had actually told him that his brother was free - then, maybe, none of this would be happening.
“Guess you’re out of luck, sweetheart. I can’t find anything down here that could pass for lube.”
As the words slip through the haze of pain that’s still making it difficult to think clearly, Castiel can only close his eyes helplessly, suddenly and acutely aware of the cool air of the panic room, of the way he’s got his back arched out in a manner that makes his body all too available to the man who’s come to stand behind him again.
“And look at you, ass all stuck out like that. Gagging for it anyway, even though you know it’ll hurt.”
Castiel still doesn’t move from his position against the wall, his forehead still pressed against the cool iron, and his arms aching from being stretched above his head for so long. When warm fingers slide down to cup his ass, already digging in with enough pressure to bruise, he simply swallows hard and bucks back into the touch.
“Do whatever you want to me, Dean. If this will help you, then do it.”
There’s a disconcerting silence for a moment, and then Dean’s lips are pressed against his neck, right underneath his ear, breath moving softly across the sensitive skin. Castiel shudders and leans into the touch, only to twist uneasily in his chains as one of Dean’s fingers slides to press against the entrance to his body.
“You can still leave, you know. The only thing keeping you here is you.”
And you, Castiel wants to say, wants to give voice to the fact that he would do anything for Dean, but Dean seems to know that already, and all Castiel does is bow is head and bite down on his lip as the tip of one spit-slick finger slides into his body.
“This will hurt.”
Castiel barely has time to breathe before that finger slides all the way inside him, his muscles protesting the intrusion as they try to force Dean out, and Castiel is dimly aware that he’s making some kind of pained noise, twisting away from the touch and breathing harshly when he remembers that there’s nowhere to go. It’s not nearly enough time before a second finger traces along the rim of his anus, a silent threat that has Castiel biting down a whimper and fighting harder against his chains.
“Said I’d take care of you, Cas.” The words are panted against his ear, and he can feel the hardness of Dean’s penis rubbing its slickness against his leg. “Said I could do this without destroying us. Still trust me enough to do that?”
Castiel barely processes the question before there’s a second finger inside him, not nearly enough spit to ease the way, and Castiel fights with every bit of his power to not reach for his Grace, fighting down the urge to unfurl his wings and escape from this room, from the pain that’s being done to him.
Then, Dean starts to suck kisses along the wings of his shoulders, his fingers stilling inside Castiel as his lips start to explore whatever skin they can reach, and Castiel can’t help but arch into the press of Dean’s mouth, needing the splash of pleasure to keep him protected from the dull ache that’s spreading out from where Dean’s fingers are inside him. It’s only when a hand slides around his body to wrap around his penis that Castiel thinks he might be able to get through this, the sudden rush of pleasure somehow making the pressure inside him into less pain, sending a wave of heat rushing through him, and making him want to be filled up in ways he hasn’t been in years.
“Jesus, I don’t even need a binding spell, do I? You’d let me do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”
Dean spreads his fingers a little wider inside him, his teeth dragging a thin line down Castiel’s back, and Castiel realizes that he’s suddenly almost sobbing for breath, twisting both into and away from the touch, pain streaking through him even as Dean’s fingers curl upwards inside him and leave Castiel shouting for air.
“You look good like this, Cas.”
Castiel has just begun to get some air back when Dean forces another finger inside his body, too much, way too much all at once, and all pleasure flees Castiel’s body at being stretched too far without being properly prepared for it. He bites down hard against a yell as he arches forward into the wall, but Dean just follows him and pushes in harder, his teeth sinking into Castiel’s neck until Castiel can feel blood begin to trickle across his skin.
Then, the hand around his penis begins to stroke again, but it’s not enough of a distraction from the pain spreading across his insides, and Dean makes an almost annoyed sound when it becomes obvious that Castiel’s penis isn’t going to get any harder in his hand. When he pulls his hand free, it’s to clamp down hard against Castiel’s thigh, as he pulls his fingers free with such suddenness it drags another groan from Castiel’s throat.
“Whatever. I tried.”
He can hear Dean’s hand slide down the length of his own cock, presumes that Dean is slicking himself up with saliva, and then Dean’s there, blunt pressure against the entrance to his already aching body, and Castiel has a fleeting moment of wondering whether this will really help Dean, or whether he will simply hate himself more later - because he had promised to do this without destroying them, without breaking Castiel into something that can’t be put back together again, and what he’s doing, right now, seems the very opposite of that.
It comes to Castiel fleetingly, maddeningly, that for all he knows Dean Winchester, knows him inside and out, knows the numerous and destructive ways in which he does his best to cling to his humanity, he still does not know how humans are meant to deal with trauma, and Castiel suddenly and fiercely hates the limitations that are preventing him from assessing just how much damage Dean is about to do to both of them.
“Dean - Dean, wait, you shouldn’t -”
“Having second thoughts, sweetheart?”
A second hand clamps down against his other hipbone, his body held firmly in place and his arms still strung above his head, and Castiel frantically tries to breathe over all the sensations, the pain that’s been done to so much of his body - tries to find some way to ask if this is actually what Dean wants, or whether this is just going to destroy them.
“You - you said this would be helpful for you - you wanted to see if you were more than that monster -”
“Then leave, Cas.” Fingernails dig hard into his hip, a new splash of pain among all the other injuries. “This will help me - let me get some closure for Hell - but if you need to wimp out, think you don’t deserve this kind of pain for all the angels you’ve slaughtered -”
The wave of shame is overwhelming to the point of being painful, and Castiel cuts off the rough words by twisting his head to awkwardly press his lips against Dean’s, the first thing he’s done all night that wasn’t dictated by someone else, his whole body jerking when Dean’s teeth sink down hard into his lip.
“That a yes, sweetheart?”
Fighting the blinding urge to unfurl his wings and escape, Castiel closes his eyes and manages a curt nod, tasting blood from where Dean had bit him, and then drops his head back to the front as he curls his fingers into the manacles above him, bracing himself for the push of Dean inside him.
“Whatever you need, Dean. If this will help you - then, yes.”
He can hear the resignation in his own voice, the sound of finally giving up on fighting for once, and he sucks in his breath as Dean shifts behind him, digging his fingers in a little tighter as he moves just a little bit closer, and Castiel barely holds back a whimper, his entire body tensing -
A few seconds drag by, and then a few others. Castiel barely dares to breathe, his mind still blanking out as he waits for a new surge of pain - so when Dean finally steps back without a sound, leaving Castiel’s back once again vulnerable to the cool air of the room, Castiel doesn’t quite manage to muffle a rasp of confusion, expecting some new kind of torment before Dean finally makes use of his body.
“Dean?”
His voice wavers dangerously in the otherwise silent room, and he doesn’t dare to move, doesn’t dare to even look back at Dean, the silence just as unnerving as anything else had been.
“Jesus, Cas. There is something seriously wrong with you.”
Unsure of where this is going, and trying to breathe through the sharp ache left behind by Dean’s fingers inside him, Castiel keeps his head bowed as he hears the soft sound of Dean’s bare feet padding across the room. He realizes his entire vessel is shaking - adrenaline, he thinks distantly - and then Dean is back again, his fingers curling hard into the skin of Castiel’s thigh, leaving Castiel trying to figure out whether he wants to press into or away from the touch -
And then the realization hits him like a physical blow. Dean’s fingers are slippery, as though he does indeed have something that could make this about more than just pain for Castiel, and the relieved realization all but steals the air from his lungs.
“You -” Castiel seems to be having issues with finding his voice, and he licks across his bloody lips as his vocal chords try to make sound work. “But I thought -”
“I said I could do this without destroying us. You said that I could have anything I wanted from you. Pretty sure we both just proved our points.”
The words seem to burn him up from the inside out, and Castiel closes his eyes helplessly as Dean’s damp mouth begins to slide down the length of his back, his hands dragging sticky lines down Castiel’s legs as he goes, and his teeth leaving a line of bright pain down Castiel’s spine.
“I may not be feeling much of anything right now, but I know I want you in my life when tonight is over. Lucky for you, that knowledge seems to win out over the fact that I’d still like to fuck my cock into you until you scream at me to stop.”
Castiel can’t stop the full body shudder that runs through his body at the casual emotionless of Dean’s voice, and then there are teeth biting into his skin even as fingers dig into the mess on his thigh, and Castiel can’t help but shout and try to twist away from the sudden flare of pain. He doesn’t get far, though, because Dean simply tightens his grip on Castiel’s leg, and Castiel bites out a whimper as he makes himself hold still, his entire body trembling against the urge to pull away.
“Much better. Now don’t move.”
Castiel tenses as Dean’s fingers flex ever so slightly against the cut on his thigh, but instead of a new wave of blinding pain, he gets a scratch of teeth down the skin of his ass, followed by a tongue sliding across the opening to his body. The flash of heat that burns across his entire vessel leaves him gasping, and when Dean’s tongue begins to slide in damp circles against the sensitive skin, Castiel distantly hears himself let out something that sounds dangerously close to a whine.
“Mmm. Much better.”
There’s a moment of intense pressure against the injury on his thigh, stealing whatever had been left of Castiel’s breath, and then Castiel nearly sobs in relief when Dean’s fingers slide away from his legs to spread him open instead, leaving him exposed and squirming and clinging to the manacles above him to keep him upright. For all that pain is still radiating out across his skin, the slide of Dean’s tongue across the most intimate part of his human body seems to overpower most of the discomfort from all the damage that’s been done to him, and when Dean’s tongue slides fully inside him, slipping against skin that’s already been worked raw by Dean’s fingers, it takes Castiel a long moment to realize that the keening noise in the room is coming from him.
Time seems to slide away after that. Castiel knows that he’s making noises that sound desperate, can distantly feel the Dean’s low laugh rumble against his skin, but all he’s aware of is the heat and wetness inside him, that incendiary touch sending sensation screaming across every nerve of his body, and when three fingers are forced inside his body alongside Dean’s tongue, Castiel can’t help but twist into the touch, even as the sharp ache from the new stretch inside him leaves him squirming helplessly against the chains that hold him tight.
“Dean - Dean, Dean, Dean -”
He can hear himself pleading, can hear Dean laughing, but he can’t think past all the white noise in his head - and then Dean’s tongue and fingers are pulling free abruptly, and Castiel feels himself arching backwards in an attempt to keep the touch, the sudden sensation of emptiness enough to draw a new cry from his throat.
“No -”
“S’okay, sweetheart. I’m not done with you yet.”
Three fingers are shoved back inside him, slick with something more than just spit this time, and Castiel is twisting into the touch before he even realizes it, gratitude burning him up as surely as the feeling of Dean’s fingers inside his body - and then he cries out sharply when Dean’s fingers curl roughly upwards, spreading him open while sending a new wave of need across his body.
“Dean -”
“Yeah, alright. I’m sick of waiting.”
Castiel’s world seems to tilt a little as the fingers leave him, and then Dean is sliding up the length of his back, digging his fingers into the curve of Castiel’s hipbones, and pressing his penis into the slippery mess at the entrance to his body, even as teeth dig into the side of Castiel’s neck - and Castiel barely has time to open his mouth at the bite of pain before Dean slowly begins to push inside him, and then Castiel’s mind wipes out from the sudden pressure and stretch against his oversensitive skin.
“Breathe.”
The word is low against his ear, and with a sharp buck of his hips Dean is inside him, past the original resistance and pushing in hard, and Castiel can hear himself gasping as he twists away from the sudden burn, his fingers scrabbling uselessly for purchase against the cold manacles around his wrists - until a hand comes down to curl around his penis, a long and solid stroke of Dean’s slippery fingers that sends a wave of heat across his entire body, and Castiel can hear himself making a noise that sounds the very opposite of pain, even as he feels Dean continue his relentless slide into Castiel’s body.
“Dean -”
His voice sounds absolutely wrecked to his own ears, a hoarse disaster of the already low voice that normally comes through his throat, and when Dean chooses that moment to scrape his teeth along the sensitive curve of Castiel’s neck, whatever Castiel was going to say is lost under the low groan that slides free. Distantly, even through the sharp ache inside him and the sparks of pleasure spiking out from where Dean’s hand is wrapped around him, he can feel the pleased smirk against his neck as Dean slides even further inside him, and then Castiel is left panting for air as he feels Dean seat himself deep inside him, his hand around Castiel’s penis still stroking softly.
“And you were gonna let me fuck you dry. Masochistic little angel.”
Castiel gets a small amount of gratification from the tightness in Dean’s voice - from the way Dean is finally sounding anything but perfectly composed for the first time since this entire thing started - but that satisfaction is short-lived, because Dean is already beginning to rock against him, gentle movements that nevertheless give Castiel little time to adjust, and Castiel squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to relax his muscles and convince his body to open up around Dean.
“Best keep your ass stuck out like that, sweetheart. Wouldn’t want to rub your dick raw against the wall.”
Dean is already shifting behind him as he speaks, and Castiel bites down against a wave of panic as he struggles to brace himself, his arms twisting uselessly above him as he arches his body and tries to find purchase on the cold floor beneath his bare feet. There’s a slow burn as Dean pulls almost completely out of him, and then the hand around his penis is gone, and Dean is gripping tight to both sides of his body, fingers curled in hard against the arches of his hipbones. Castiel barely has time to realize that Dean is bracing him before there’s a sharp thrust inside him, and when the only thing that stops Castiel from slamming into the wall is the tight grip that Dean has on his hips, the pained gasp that rips from his lips is matched by a noise of annoyance from behind him.
“Fuck this.”
There’s a new shock of pain as Dean pulls his penis out of Castiel’s tired body, leaving him empty and aching and hanging limply against the wall, and then Castiel hears a muttered curse and the sounds of Dean fumbling with something - and then Dean is back again, hard and hot against Castiel’s back, reaching above him to where his wrists are chained to the wall -
A sharp clicking noise fills the room, and Castiel’s world washes white as his arms come sliding down, the sudden rush of blood like a dose of fire through his veins. The only thing that keeps him upright is Dean’s arms around him, catching him as he pitches forward and starts to slide down the wall, and then Castiel is being pushed to his hands and knees on the cold iron floor, his trembling limbs barely holding him upright as Dean curls up around him from behind.
“There. Now I can fuck you properly.”
Dean is pushing back inside his body before Castiel even has a chance to brace himself, and then Castiel’s left scrambling to find purchase on the cold floor as Dean starts to move immediately, pull back roughly and shoving in hard again, his teeth never straying far from where they’ve latched back on to the curve of Castiel’s neck. Castiel can hear himself making helpless noises, the sharp movements forcing his body open whether it wants it or not, and then he’s arching desperately when a hand curls around his penis, stroking him rough and fast and leaving him shuddering for more.
“Dean -”
“You always were a good fuck, Cas.”
The words make him ache more than anything else does, twisting inside him and drawing a hurt sound from his throat, but his vision is starting to blur around the edges as Dean keeps up the movement of his hand, his fingers and palm taking Castiel apart in ways that show he hasn’t forgotten anything over the last two years, and Castiel distantly realizes that he might be able to get through this without breaking apart completely.
Then, a sweat-stained palm comes to rest over his aching stomach, curling over the mess Dean had made when he cut him open earlier, and Castiel doesn’t realize he’s trying to pull away until Dean goes still behind him, his breath coming hot and fast against Castiel’s ear.
“You said you’d give me anything, sweetheart.”
The fingers on his stomach press down slightly, a sudden shock of sensation, and it takes everything Castiel has to remain where he is, his lips pressed tightly together and his skin almost vibrating with the effort of holding still.
“Dean -”
His voice is a barely there thing, trailing off completely as Dean begins to draw bloody circles against the untouched skin of his stomach, and then Dean grins against his neck, a flash of lips and teeth that Castiel can feel across his entire body.
“You really are a sucker for me, aren’t you.”
And then Dean is moving again, thrusting hard against him and jerking his hand around Castiel’s penis, and Castiel closes his eyes as he spreads his palm out on the cold floor and tries to brace himself, doing his best to ignore the pain coming from the fingers trailing across his stomach. He focuses instead on the pain of Dean stretching him apart, the discomfort of the floor beneath his knees and palms, the sound of his own shattered voice over the noises of their ragged breathing - because this, here, even with all the pain, is still better than the nothing he’s had for years, and he’s going to cling to every second of Dean’s body pressed up against his.
Then, a change in angle has him shouting, and Dean is laughing against his ear, driving hard into him and scraping across the spot that sends waves of heat across his skin, leaving him torn between pushing back against Dean and pulling away from the hand on his stomach, his body ricocheting back and forth between too many sensations. Somewhere along the way, somewhere in between the combination of pain and pleasure, Castiel’s mind starts to fog over, his body finally reaching the point of too much, and the release that slams through him steals away what was left of his voice, colouring his vision and sucking all the air out of the room as he slumps forward, his elbows hitting the floor hard and his eyes blurring from the force of his orgasm.
He’s distantly aware of Dean muttering something against his neck, the sharp movements of his penis inside Castiel never stopping as Castiel shakes through his orgasm, Dean pushing his body past the point of oversensitivity as Castiel squirms desperately against the cold floor - but when Dean finally breaks apart behind him, thrusting in hard and holding Castiel tight against his body, groaning low against his neck and releasing deep inside him, Castiel still hears himself whimpering as he pushes back even further into the contact, desperately trying to make the moment last as long as possible.
There’s a long moment of silence, then, as Dean slumps damp and heavy against his back, one hand still pressed across the bloody mess of his stomach, and the other digging in hard against his hip, as Castiel struggles to make his muscles hold their bodies off the floor. Dean is panting softly against his ear, a gentle movement of air that sends chill across Castiel’s burning skin, and then an arm is wrapping solidly around his chest, nearly crushing the remaining air out of his lungs as Dean squeezes down hard, pushing their bodies even closer together as Dean presses his damp mouth to Castiel’s neck.
“You feel good against me like this, sweetheart.”
Covered in blood and semen and aching from the inside out, feeling wrecked in every possible way and still shaking from the sensation of Dean buried inside him, Castiel knows that the words have nothing to do with any kind of emotional connection, that Dean is simply just enjoying the base sensation of Castiel’s body pressed against his - and after two long years of fighting alone to keep the world from burning down, the sound of Dean’s voice whispered in his ear like that is enough to make Castiel’s eyes begin to burn from something that has absolutely nothing to do with physical pain.
“Dean.”
There’s an unimpressed huff against his skin, and then Dean is scraping his teeth along the side of his neck, adding to the collection of marks already there and drawing a flinch from Castiel’s body, even as Dean’s arm around him holds him firmly in place.
“Yeah?”
“I want you back.”
There’s silence for another long moment, broken only by the soft movement of the fan above them, oddly loud now that that the room is no longer filled with the sounds of their voices and bodies coming together - and when Dean doesn’t pull away like Castiel had expected him to, something deep inside of him starts to feel shattered in a good way, and he sucks in an almost panicked breath as he gets the words out.
“I don’t want this to be the only time we do this. I want - I need you back in my life. I need to know that I don’t have to fight this war alone, that you’ll let me help you with more than just following leads, that you and I -”
“Shut the fuck up, Cas. You’re ruining my afterglow.”
It’s akin to those times when an angel’s blade has made contact with his skin, and Castiel can’t stop the punched out hurt noise that slides free of his lungs, can’t stop his stomach from seizing up and his skin from flashing hot as he finds himself suddenly bucking hard against Dean, the unexpected movement sending the hunter scrambling to keep hold of Castiel’s body. There’s a bitten out curse from behind him, and then Dean is sliding his spent penis free of Castiel’s body, a rough drag that sends a flash of pain across Castiel’s entire lower half - and then that pain is forgotten when Dean digs hard hands into his shoulders and turns him over, pressing him down hard against the cold floor and splaying a rough hand out across his chest.
“What the fuck is your problem?”
Castiel tries to speak, tries to convey the multitude of emotions that are washing across his battered body, but his throat is itching and his eyes are burning and everything inside him hurts and why did he ever think this was a good idea -
“Fucking hell, Cas.”
He doesn’t realize he’s breathing out something that sounds like a sob until soft lips are pressed against his own, swallowing up the sound and turning him inside out all over again, as the gentle touch screams through him in sharp contrast to everything else Dean has done to him tonight, leaving Castiel shaking against Dean and blinking hard against the moisture in his eyes. Then, breaking the kiss with only the tiniest hint of teeth, Dean climbs to his feet and stares down at him for a long moment, naked and covered in blood and without a single flicker of human expression behind his eyes, despite the gentle way his lips had just been moving against Castiel’s.
“Don’t fucking ask me to talk feelings, Cas. Not when I’m like this. Come to me when I’m back in one soulful piece, and maybe then you’ll get the answer you want.”
And as Dean turns to walk away from him - as he crosses the room to where his clothes are, leaving Castiel to lie naked and aching on the cold iron floor, his eyes still burning and his lips still tingling from the shock of Dean’s mouth against his own - Castiel closes his eyes, a moment of desperate hope flaring up inside him - because despite the world of pain that has been done to him tonight, a promise to talk when this is all over is still better than anything Castiel has gotten from Dean in years, and that promise alone makes every smear of blood across his skin worth it.