A Love Full of Landmines (Dean/Cas NC17)

[wallmakerrelict]

Summary: Castiel invents a spell that will lock his powers away temporarily so that he can experience sex as a human. But once it's activated, he finds himself feeling more vulnerable than he'd anticipated. There are terrible memories waiting to ambush him, and he needs to rely on Dean to pull him through. (WC~5000)

Warning: explicit sex, blood and needles (as kink), PTSD, references to past torture

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"You sure about this, Cas?"

He asked it once more, even though Castiel had lost count of how many times he'd reassured him, even though the tourniquet was already on his arm and Dean was kneeling over him with a hypodermic needle in his hand. Even then, Dean stopped and asked.

"I'm sure," said Castiel.

Dean opened his mouth to say something else, but then he closed it again. Castiel clenched his hand once, pumping more blood into the vein that swelled at the crook of his elbow. Dean scrunched his nose.

"Are you sure?" Castiel had to ask.

Dean turned the needle over in his hand and sighed. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah. As long as you're positive it'll work."

"It will work," said Castiel. He fell silent for a moment to watch as Dean rested the point of the needle against the vein and nosed it gently but firmly under the skin. Blood welled at the hub. Dean pulled the tourniquet off and held up a silver bowl to catch the first few drops. A slight adjustment of the needle, and the drops became a weak stream. At first the contents of the bowl looked watery as blood mixed with the heparin Dean had added, but then the blood overwhelmed the anticoagulant and became thick and crimson.

"How do you know?" said Dean. It took Castiel a moment to remember what they had been talking about.

He tore his attention away from the blood spilling out of his vessel and replied, "Well, obviously it's never been tested. I had to write it myself. There were no existing sigils for taking an angel's powers away."

Dean glanced at the cheat-sheet Castiel had provided him. It was covered in Enochian scribbling. "Does it have to be this long?"

"There are some redundancies, but I thought it best to leave them intact for now," said Castiel. "I may be able to pare it down eventually, if it works."

"I thought you said you were sure it would work," said Dean with a cheeky grin. The bowl was almost half-full. He pulled the needle out of Cas's arm and pressed a piece of gauze over the puncture. "Put your arm above your head."

"It will work," Castiel repeated. He pulled the gauze off. The wound was already healed.

"Right," said Dean, shaking his head with a smile. "And you're sure you can turn it off after?"

"Blood will complete the spell, and blood will break it," Castiel explained. He motioned to the knife he'd set on the bedside table. "When we're finished, just erase my blood with your own."

Dean retrieved a paintbrush from the nightstand. He swirled the blood in the bowl and blew out a long, slow breath. "Okay," he finally said. "Shirt off. Lie on the bed."

Castiel unrolled his left sleeve from where it had been bunched up around his shoulder to make room for the tourniquet, then unbuttoned the shirt and discarded it. He reclined on the bed. Dean followed after, kneeling over his supine form.

Dean spread the sheet with the Enochian sigils next to Castiel's head where he could easily see it. He dipped the paintbrush in the blood and dabbed it against the edge of the bowl so it wouldn't drip. Then he hesitated and asked one more time, "You really sure about this?"

Castiel resisted the urge to strangle him. "I have answered that question multiple times, Dean," he said. "Please get on with it."

"Being human isn't all it's cracked up to be, you know."

Dean's rueful tone made Castiel pause. He reached up and cupped Dean's face in his hand. "I want this," he said. "It's not about becoming human. I want to be with you without my powers. To be closer to you."

"I like you with your powers," said Dean, leaning his head against Castiel's hand. "They keep you safe."

"I don't need to be kept safe from you."

Dean gave a dark, nervous little laugh, as if he weren't quite sure that was true. But he freshened his brush with more blood and bent down to draw the first line on Castiel's chest.

The touch of the brush tickled a bit, and the blood was cool where it began to dry against Castiel's skin. Dean was quick and precise. He wrote the first line of Enochian from one shoulder to the other, just under Castiel's collarbones.

"Am I doing it right?" he asked.

"I can't see," said Castiel. "But I didn't feel you make any mistakes."

"Let me get a mirror so you can make sure." Dean almost got up, but Castiel grabbed his wrist and pulled him back down. Dean sighed, "I just don't want to screw up and make the spell do something it's not supposed to."

Castiel squeezed Dean's hand before letting go. "You're doing fine." Dean wrote the next line, and this time Castiel paid attention to the order and direction of the brushstrokes on his skin so that when it was done he could say, "Perfect."

Dean nodded and kept going. Soon he had moved far enough down Castiel's chest that Castiel could watch. The symbols made lovely rows and columns in deep rust-red, each exactly as Castiel had written them on the paper. Dean licked his lips in concentration as he mimicked Castiel's pen-strokes with his brush. Castiel considered complimenting him again, but instead he closed his mouth and watched Dean's face as he worked.

The light touch of the brush was so at odds with their usual rough grabbing and holding, pressing and biting, that the anticipation made Castiel swell within his pants. He couldn't help but roll his hips up rhythmically against where Dean was sitting on him. If Dean noticed, he didn't say anything.

Dean had just reached the bottom of Castiel's sternum when he paused and said, "Last one."

"Do it," said Castiel.

With a few more flicks of his brush, Dean completed the final symbol. As soon as the brush left skin after the last stroke, every line on Castiel's chest flared to life, burning itself onto his grace. He gasped. His hands clenched at the sheets below him. Dean immediately placed his own hands over Castiel's, steadying him through those few seconds of pain before the light dimmed. When it was over, the symbols had turned the dull brown of dried blood. Dean swiped a finger over one of them, to no effect. He licked his finger and tried again. The mark refused to be removed.

Dean frowned. "You're sure you can reverse this, ri… Are you okay?"

It took Castiel several seconds to answer. The spell had worked; his powers were locked away. He could feel his grace pulsing against the cage of the sigils, intact but unable to exert its force. Without it, he was reduced down to his vessel, unable to filter out the sensations that bombarded him. Even the swell of air in his lungs as he panted, the expansion and contraction of his ribs, and the pressure of Dean's weight seated against his groin were overwhelming.

He managed to focus his eyes on Dean's worried face. "I'm fine. I'm… good," he said, feeling an intoxicated smile creep over his face. "Kiss me."

Dean pulled Castiel upright, scooting back so he was sitting in his lap, and if Castiel had thought the rush of air filling his chest had been amazing it was nothing compared to the touch of Dean's lips on his own. He threw his arms around Dean's neck, pulling him close and crushing their mouths together again and again.

"So I guess it worked," Dean mumbled out between Castiel's kisses. "Does it feel better this way?"

Castiel held Dean's face in his hands, keeping their mouths close enough that his lips brushed Dean's as he spoke. "Not… better. Different. More connected."

"Really? Could have fooled me." Dean walked his hands up Castiel's sides, pressing his fingers into the spaces between ribs. He flicked at Castiel's nipples with his thumbs until Castiel was quivering, then squeezed them until Castiel let his head fall against Dean's shoulder with a groan.

When Dean dropped one hand down to palm the bulge between Castiel's legs, tugging with his other hand at a nipple and latching his mouth onto Castiel's neck, Castiel was forced to stammer out, "It's better, it's better!"

And it made sense, even to Castiel's lust-addled mind. Angels weren't built for sex, not the way humans were. No matter how much pleasure he'd taken in his times with Dean, the sensation was always filtered through his vessel and drowned in the white noise of his grace. But not now. Now he felt everything, in that all-consuming way that he'd watched Dean enjoy time and again. This was what he'd wanted. To feel what Dean felt. To give himself to Dean as completely as Dean gave himself to Castiel.

"More!" he growled into Dean's ear. "Take me!"

Dean shoved Castiel onto his back, unhooked his belt and his fly, and yanked his pants off so roughly that his hips were pulled up off the bed. The slide of fabric on skin was delicious, especially when the loose end of his belt snapped against the inside of his thigh. Then Dean was lowering himself down onto him, his jeans rough against Castiel's bare legs, trapping Castiel's cock between his belly and the front of Dean's pants. Dean hooked his arms under Castiel's shoulders and kissed him. This time he didn't let Castiel control the pace. He kissed him long and slow and deliberate, laying claim to his mouth.

Castiel shook under Dean and offered up his lips eagerly, invitingly. But he also reached down the back of Dean's shirt and scraped his nails up Dean's back, making him arch and moan even as he kept planting deep kisses on Castiel.

When Castiel's nails bit a little too hard into the skin between Dean's shoulder blades, Dean pulled his hand out of his shirt with a growl. Castiel managed a cheeky head-tilt before Dean grabbed both his wrists and pinned them above his head.

A groan rose up unbidden from Castiel's throat as Dean bent down and went to work sucking a chain of bruises into his neck. He made a short, token show of struggling against Dean's grip, then relaxed and bent his neck to give Dean better access.

As Dean moved up to nibble his ear, Cas flexed his arms again, trying without really trying to escape. He could barely budge Dean's hands at all.

And that's when it began to occur to him, as he strained harder and harder only for Dean to hold him tighter and tighter. Every other time they'd played this game, Castiel's struggling was purely for show. He'd always had more than enough strength to break free if he'd really wanted to. But now, as he pulled in earnest and still couldn't manage to work his hands loose, he realized.

Dean was stronger than him. Castiel was completely at his mercy.

And that thought, which had been so erotic when it was just a possibility, somehow became terrifying now that it was a reality. Dean could refuse to let him go. He could hurt him. He could violate him. He could even kill him, and Castiel would be powerless to stop him.

Of course, Castiel trusted Dean not to do any of those things. But then, he had also trusted his siblings, and that hadn't stopped them from holding Castiel in Heaven and punishing him for his disobedience. Torturing him. Invading him in every way, until he'd submitted. And now that old repressed fear bubbled to the surface. Sweat broke out over his entire body. His stomach turned over and over in knots. His chest constricted at the memory of fighting with everything he had and still not being able to free himself from the horrible cruelties of people who claimed to love him.

Castiel didn't realize how hard he was struggling, yanking with all his might, thrashing, screaming, sobbing, until Dean leaped off him with his hands in the air. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Dean shouted. He scooted toward the foot of the bed, giving Castiel space. "I'm sorry, Cas, I'm sorry!"

Castiel scrambled away from Dean, pressing himself against the headboard as he tried to catch his breath. He wanted to reassure Dean, but it was all he could do to keep himself upright and hold down the bile that was rising in his throat. He looked at Dean, pleading him to understand, making little choked noises as he tried to speak.

Dean held up one hand and reached out with a soothing motion. "Take your time," he said. "Here…" He crawled over to the bedside table, making sure to keep his distance from Castiel, and retrieved the knife that was lying there.

He was pressing the knife to his inner arm, getting ready to make the cut, when Castiel recovered enough to say, "No, wait. It's fine. I'm fine."

Dean paused with the blade just shy of cutting his skin. "You are not fine," he said. "You are the opposite of fine. I'm breaking the spell."

"No," Castiel coughed. He laid a hand on Dean's arm, pulling it away from the blade. Dean let himself be moved even though he didn't look convinced. "Please, Dean, put the knife away. Will you just hold me?"

Dean set the knife back on the nightstand. Tentatively, he reached out for Castiel. First he laid a hand on his cheek, then on his shoulder. When Castiel showed no sign of fear, he pulled him slowly to his chest. Castiel curled up there, crumpled in Dean's lap with his head resting against Dean's shoulder. Dean draped his arms around Castiel gently enough that he could easily move away if he felt like it. There they stayed until the cold sweat on Castiel's skin went away and his breathing evened out to a calmer rhythm.

Only then did Dean say, "Can you tell me what that was?" When Castiel hesitated, he quickly added, "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just need to understand so I don't make it happen again."

"I should have anticipated it," said Castiel, his voice more composed now. He felt safe there in the box created by Dean's limbs and chest. He absentmindedly began tracing lines between the freckles on Dean's neck with his finger. "I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking…" Dean almost snapped. Then he began again, calmer. "Don't apologize for something I did to you."

"It wasn't your fault." Castiel drew his finger down Dean's neck to his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "It was… that feeling of powerlessness. For a second, it… reminded me of when… my time in Heaven."

Dean sounded confused when he answered, "Your time in Heaven? Before you met me?"

"No." Castiel didn't want to say it. Dean felt guilty enough already without knowing exactly which memories he had accidentally dragged up. But he deserved to know. "The other time. You know the one."

Castiel felt the exact moment that Dean figured it out. Dean froze, then shuddered, then took one hand from where it was resting on Castiel's back and brought it to his own face. When Castiel looked up, Dean had clapped his hand to his mouth and was staring at nothing, his eyes wide and his brow furrowed. From behind his hand came a mumbled, "Son of a bitch!"

Castiel twisted himself around to look at Dean directly. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated, pressing his forehead to Dean's. "You didn't know."

Dean's gaze kept sliding away from Castiel's, their eyes never quite meeting. "Why didn't you use your safeword?" he asked.

Castiel didn't want to admit that, in his panic, he had completely forgotten about it. "I was going to. I would have. Eventually."

Finally, Dean's eyes rose to meet Castiel's gaze. "No, not eventually," he said. "Something even starts to feel wrong, you stop me. Got it?"

"I've got it," said Castiel.

Dean kept looking into Castiel's eyes and playing absently with a lock of hair at his temple. Finally, he spoke again. "And I'll stop myself, okay? It's not all on you. Maybe you're right - maybe neither of us could have seen this coming. But I… I'll be careful. I'll pay attention. This happens again, I'll stop."

"I know you will," said Castiel as he leaned in for a kiss. They knelt there, unmoving, their lips pressed together, just enjoying the closeness. Dean's hands rested lightly on Castiel's back; Castiel's were on Dean's hips. Their bodies leaned together, Dean's clothes a strange contrast to Castiel's naked skin.

Seeking out the warmth beneath the fabric, Castiel let one hand wander up the back of Dean's shirt while the other dipped into the front of his pants. Dean answered by trailing his fingers up and down Castiel's spine.

But when Castiel started to unbutton Dean's pants, Dean stilled his hands and said, "Cas, babe. You really up for this?"

"I need it," Castiel replied. He finished with the button, pulled down Dean's zipper, and worked his fingers under the elastic of Dean's boxers. "Please, Dean. I need this."

Somehow Castiel knew that if he ended the scene here, letting Dean break the spell, running back into the safety of his angelic powers, that he would end up regretting it. He needed to prove to himself here and now that he was not afraid of Dean, and that Dean didn't need to be afraid on his behalf.

Careful, maybe. But not afraid.

And despite the terrible shock he'd suffered, Castiel still craved that touch, that fullness, that release.

"Please," he said again.

Dean relented, taking his shirt off and leaning back so Castiel could pull off his pants. "Okay," he said. "But no rough stuff. We take it slow."

Castiel nodded as he sank down onto the bed to entwine himself with Dean. After the extended anticipation, the warmth of skin on skin was electrifying. One brief kiss on the mouth, and then Castiel tilted his chin up to let Dean trail kisses down his neck. Castiel slid his hands up into Dean's hair while Dean's hands wandered down Castiel's back to his rear and squeezed.

Little, pleased whimpers rose up from Castiel's throat as his body slowly warmed to Dean's touches, his cock becoming hard again. He tensed for a moment when Dean started to roll over, but Dean stopped before his weight came down on Castiel, and they ended up lying side by side.

Dean waited for Castiel to relax again, stroking his hair. "It's okay, Cas, babe, I know. I got you." One more kiss, and with a little shove at Castiel's shoulder he encouraged him to roll over.

Castiel obliged, and scooted backwards until his back was pressed up against Dean's chest. Dean shifted away for a second, and when he returned Castiel could hear the pop of the top coming off a bottle of lube.

"Tell me if you need me to slow down, okay?" One of Dean's arms hooked under Castiel's armpit and around his chest while the other nudged between the cheeks of his ass, slick and cold with lube.

Castiel flinched, then shivered a little as he moaned his approval. With the sigils in blood still burned into his chest, every sensation was raw and overwhelming as if every inch of his skin were brand new. The lube quickly warmed. Dean began massaging slow circles around Castiel's anus, stroking over the opening and pressing lightly to gauge its tightness. After less than a minute Castiel was pushing back, trying to get Dean's fingers deeper.

"That's good," he murmured. He turned his face upwards and Dean was there, propped up on one elbow and staring down at Castiel. Their lips met, and at that moment Dean slid a finger inside. Immediately, involuntarily, Castiel tightened around it with a groan.

As an angel, it had been easy to open up and let Dean inside. In fact, he was so voracious that they had toys on standby for the nights when Dean's cock alone wasn't enough. But now, his nerves crackling with responsiveness, just one finger made him feel comfortably full.

"Too fast?" said Dean.

Castiel shook his head. "Feels good. It's so intense. Is this what it's like all the time, when you're human?"

Dean laughed, his breath warm against the back of Castiel's neck. "I dunno. Maybe? Don't worry about it, okay? Just enjoy it."

"Mmm," said Castiel in agreement. As Dean fucked him slowly with one finger, Castiel closed his eyes and savored the jolts of pleasure running through his body. His cock throbbed, half-hard. Dean shifted his arm down to grip it, and added some lube so that his hand could slide easily up and down the shaft. Castiel could feel himself swelling in Dean's hand. His hips took on a mind of their own, jerking back and forth, trying to force Dean's finger deeper inside even as he fucked into Dean's fist.

Dean kept Castiel there, riding the edge of pleasure, for several minutes. He took his time. But even so, when he worked a second finger in beside the first, there was a flash of pain. Castiel groaned. Dean stopped jerking Castiel off to embrace him around his shoulders, pulling him flush against Dean's chest. "Easy, easy," he murmured.

When Castiel fell silent, Dean pressed forward again with both fingers. Castiel jerked an arm back to grab at Dean's hip, digging his fingernails in.

Dean hissed through his teeth, then said, "Okay, I hear you. I hear you. I'll slow down." He eased the second finger out and went back to fucking Castiel with just one. The pain faded and the pleasure slowly returned.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered.

"Would you stop fucking saying that?" Dean sighed, kissing Castiel behind his ear. "You're doing fine. Just, uh, I don't think we'll be going all the way tonight."

"I agree," said Castiel with a sigh of relief.

Dean squeezed more lube onto both his hands and resumed stroking Castiel's cock. He kept working his finger gently back and forth, whispering encouragement in Castiel's ear. A few minutes later, when he tried again to add a second finger, Castiel felt no pain. He whimpered, throwing his head back and panting as he was stretched wider, but the noises he made were of ecstasy rather than discomfort. Dean pushed slowly in until he reached his last knuckle and Castiel was shaking and moaning in his arms.

"Good boy," said Dean. His possessive tone sent a jolt from Castiel's throat to his cock. Dean took Castiel's hand and placed it back on his hip, where there were still fingernail-welts. "Good boy. Squeeze if you need me to stop, okay?"

As soon as Castiel had nodded his understanding, Dean began fucking him hard and fast. He set his elbow against his hip and thrust with his body to drive his fingers into Castiel again and again. Castiel couldn't help but cry out. It would have been loud enough to wake the occupants of the adjacent rooms, but he managed to turn his head and muffle his groans in the mattress. His whole body vibrated, his muscles seizing, and it was all he could do to keep his hand relaxed on Dean's hip, never tightening, because he never wanted it to stop.

Dean adjusted his angle and curled his fingers to hit the spot that sent every movement straight through to Castiel's cock. He grazed over it twice, feeling for it. Cas choked out, "There! There!" When Dean found it, he stopped thrusting and flexed his fingers against the gland over and over, massaging it in a way that his cock could never have managed.

And Cas screamed and thrashed in Dean's arms. It felt like coming, only it didn't stop. The sensation built in him until he was beyond words, until he didn't even recognize the sounds coming out of his mouth, and the only thing keeping him still was Dean's arm around his chest. He took his hand off Dean's hip to grab and pull at the bed sheets. Dean quickly took him by the wrist and replaced the hand on his hip.

It was just this side of claustrophobic, with Dean's hands all over him and inside him, losing control of his body as he was wracked with pleasure, his hole tight around Dean's fingers and quickly becoming sore. That same fear that had gripped him earlier simmered beneath the surface. Dean didn't have to stop. Even if Castiel were to close his fingers around Dean's hip, Dean didn't have to honor his promise. Even if Castiel were to try to get away, Dean had enough strength to hold him there.

But even in his haze of overwhelming sensation, Castiel managed to keep those fears at bay this time. Before, he had always had his powers as backup - a failsafe that he knew he would never use but which gave him comfort nonetheless. Now, his protection began and ended with his trust in Dean.

But that was enough.

When it had gone on so long that he was having trouble catching his breath, Castiel finally gave in. He squeezed Dean's hip. He had no doubt whatsoever that Dean would stop.

Sure enough, Dean immediately froze. "You okay?" he said as he eased his fingers slowly out of Castiel's ass.

"Yes," Castiel half-gasped, half-sobbed out. He was still panting, still quivering with the aftershocks of Dean's attentions. "I just… I can't… take any more."

Dean let Castiel roll onto his back and relax. He knelt over him, watching him carefully as he recovered. As soon as Castiel's limbs stopped jerking and his vision stopped swimming, he grinned and pulled Dean down for a clumsy, sloppy kiss.

"That was good," said Dean, shifting up to kiss Castiel's forehead. "You did good."

"I didn't do anything." Castiel couldn't help but notice that he was slurring his words a bit, and he couldn't find it in him to care.

"You let me know when you needed me to stop," said Dean. "That was good. And you trusted me to keep going after I hurt you the first time, which is fucking amazing. You're amazing." They kissed for a while more before Dean nudged between Castiel's legs with his thigh and said, "You wanna finish?"

Castiel had completely forgotten about that. His body was so completely fucked-out and satisfied that an orgasm almost seemed like too much work at this point. Besides, his dick was barely hard anymore. "I don't need it," he said. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about it," said Dean. "I'm taking care of you tonight. What do you need?"

Castiel's first thought was that he needed sleep, but then he looked down at himself and noticed that on top of the blood all over his chest, he was drenched in sweat and streaked with lube from Dean's hands. "I think I need a shower," he said.

"I can make that happen," Dean laughed. "We have the technology. Can you get to the bathroom, or do I need to carry you?"

Castiel probably could have if he'd tried. But his legs still felt sort of numb and boneless, and he didn't feel at all like walking. And since Dean was offering… He raised his arms with a smile, inviting Dean to pick him up.

Dean leaned down so Castiel could place his arms around his neck. Then he maneuvered Castiel's legs around his waist and lifted him under his rear. He waddled to the bathroom with Castiel hanging off him like a koala wrapped around a tree. "Jesus, you're heavier than you look," he grunted. Castiel just nuzzled Dean's neck in response.

Dean plopped Castiel into the shower and ran the water until it was hot. Then he disappeared for a few seconds, during which Castiel was content to sit under the stream of water and breathe in steam.

Dean returned with the knife. He smiled when he saw the blissful expression on Castiel's face, but that didn't stop him from insisting, "Okay, you've gotta stand up now or there won't be room in there for both of us."

Castiel stood, his legs only a little wobbly now. Dean joined him in the shower and positioned Castiel directly under the water. He sliced the palm of his hand with the knife. Then, putting the knife aside, he pressed his bloodied palm to Castiel's chest. Where he touched, the sigils turned back to fresh blood and quickly washed away. Line by line, Dean used his own blood to cleanse Castiel of his binding marks, both of their blood running down Castiel's body and swirling in the drain.

Twice, Dean had to clench his hand over the cut to coax more blood to the surface, but finally he erased the last mark. There was no flash of light this time. Just a strange shift in the air, like a pressure change, that made Dean shake his head like a dog. And then Castiel's grace was freed. His powers were back.

Somehow, it was no great relief. Of course it was a comfort to be back in his more-or-less natural state, with all of his abilities at his disposal. But on the other hand, the intensely satisfied feeling left him as his body healed itself. His head cleared as the flood of endorphins was stabilized. He was connected with time and space and all of creation again, but as a result he felt just a little less connected to Dean.

Dean picked up a bar of soap and began lathering Castiel's torso as if nothing had happened.

"My powers have returned," said Castiel. "I can clean myself now."

"Do you want to?" said Dean. He'd somehow managed to get soap absolutely everywhere, and his hands were moving slickly over Castiel's chest to remove the last traces of blood. "Because you can leave if you want. Or you can stay and let me shampoo your hair."

Powers or not, that sounded nice. Castiel felt a very human-like warmth spread in his chest.

"I'll stay," he said.