A Different Kind of Wing!fic
Title: A Different Kind of Wing!fic
Author: Dire Banshee
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Spoilers: none really, up to Free to Be You and Me
Warnings: explicit guy-on-guy lovin', some swearing
Summary: So, we've all read fics where Dean gets wings, this is one of those... with a twist
Author's Notes: So, I've been re-reading the Merry Gentry series by Laurell K. Hamilton. If you've ever read Seduced by Moonlight, you'll know where this came from. For those of you who haven't, what are you waiting for?
Castiel appeared outside the Winchester’s latest motel, cell phone still pressed to his ear. Sam turned, flipping his own phone shut, and raised a hand in greeting.
“Cas.”
“Samuel, what’s happened? Where’s Dean?”
“He’s uh, in the room but,” he quickly blocked the angel when Castiel moved toward the room, “I should really tell you first… he’s not in the greatest mood.”
Cas tilted his head in confusion and Sam sighed, one hand coming up to run through his hair.
“We were, uh, tracking some witches. It was mostly just small weird stuff, nothing too dark and when we found them it was just a bunch of teenage girls. We weren’t gonna do anything to them, just make sure they stayed away from demons but you know how Dean is and…”
He trailed off and glanced toward the door then back to Castiel.
“I’ll show you but just don’t… say anything.”
The angel nodded then silently followed the youngest Winchester to their room.
“Hey, Dean,” Sam called as he opened the door. “Cas is here.”
A grunt came from somewhere inside the room followed by, “Great, now get in here and shut the door. You’re lettin’ the cold in.”
Castiel stepped into the room far enough to allow Sam to close the door then stopped and stared. Dean was lying on his stomach on one of the beds, remote in hand, gaze fixed on the screen as he flipped through channels. He ignored them both, keeping his thumb pressed down on the channel button, making the shows flash across the tv far too quickly to garner much from them. Sam shook his head and headed over to his laptop while Castiel studied the shirtless hunter.
Dean had wings. Not feathered wings like birds or angels; oh no, Dean had butterfly wings. They rose from his back in a graceful arc, ending in a point about a foot over his head, the rest all scalloped edges and long swooping swallowtail. They were outlined in black, streaks of a nearly neon blue following the scallops on the tops of his wings changing to an emerald green toward the bottom ridges, ending in a swirl of color on the tails. Thick black patterns ran over the surfaces of the wings, making them resemble stained glass. There were large rust colored eyespots toward the outer edges of the upper wings, streaks of white, deep red-violet, more of that electric blue, spots of pink and lavender, a soft sea-green near the base where they emerged from Dean’s back.
“Witches did this?” Castiel finally found his voice. At Sam’s nod the angel moved further into the room, taking a seat by the younger brother. “I don’t know if I can undo it.”
“No,” Sam said. “We don’t need you to undo it. I just need you to stay here with… Dean while I go talk to the girls.”
Dean glared at Sam’s pause, a warning in his eyes. Sam turned away, hiding a smile. He cleared his throat and stood, grabbing his coat.
“So, I’ll be back. Cas... Tinkerbell.”
“Sam, I swear to God!” Dean growled as Sam slipped out the door. Dean was on his feet, looking ready to drag Sam back inside but seemed to think better of it as an icy draft hit him head on. The hunter shivered, the wings pressing together behind him. Standing, the curved bottoms of the tails nearly brushed the floor. Glancing at Castiel Dean sighed and grabbed one of the chairs, turning it around and straddling the seat, folding his arms along the top of the back. He had to fan the wings out to avoid bending the tails on the floor and shifted a few times before he found a comfortable position.
“I told him no fairy jokes,” he grumbled.
“You’re upset,” Castiel observed.
“I have freakin’ butterfly wings man, of course I’m upset.”
“I have wings, Dean.”
“Yeah, but yours are cool, like an eagle or something,” he sneered back at his new appendages. “Not this fairy-tale shit.”
“The demi-fey are formidable warriors, Dean,” Castiel said, raising to his feet and shedding his trench coat. “Don’t let their size or children’s stories fool you.”
“Demi-fey?” Dean asked, eyes tracking Cas’ movements as he folded the trench over the back of his chair and shrugged out of the suit jacket.
“The wee winged ones are more bloodthirsty than any vampire you’ve ever met,” he continued, pulling the tie over his head and brought his hands to the buttons on his shirt. “The last time I walked this earth I watched a cloud of them strip the flesh off an entire battalion of Roman soldiers. Those men were nothing but bloody skeletons in under a half hour.”
Dean arched an eyebrow.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yes.” Cas shed the dress shirt and pulled the undershirt over his head, baring the lean planes of his back to the hunter. Dean let his eyes roam Castiel’s torso, appreciating the view, knowing what would happen next though he could never see it. As always, between one blink and the next, Castiel’s wings were just suddenly there, curving inches over his shoulders, black feathers sweeping down his sides to press against the crappy shag carpeting. It took Dean a couple of tries to stand while keeping his balance and not fucking up his wings but he eventually managed it, closing the small distance between himself and his angel, reaching out a hand to run his fingers through the soft feathers Castiel allowed him to see.
“So, uh, how did a bunch of blood thirsty butterflies get turned into kids’ bedtime stories?” he asked.
Castiel pressed his wing back into Dean’s caress, letting his head fall back onto the hunters shoulder as Dean pressed up against his back.
“The same way angels became fluffy-winged babies to grace holiday cards.”
He felt Dean’s lips curve into a smirk against the back of his neck before the human’s fingers trailed down the sensitive bit of flesh between his wings. Castiel arched his back, breath coming out in a sigh of pleasure as Dean’s hands sought out the spots he’d discovered in the days and nights following the failed brothel trip and their encounter with Raphael. Dean gripped a handful of dark feathers making Castiel’s breath catch in his throat.
“Dean,” he sighed, then turned to face the man. “There’s something I want to show you.”
He pressed a quick kiss to Dean’s lips before moving behind him. The angel let his hand trail from Dean’s shoulder down his back to the place where wing and flesh merged, smirking when Dean jolted like he’d been struck.
“What,” he began, swallowed and continued. “What was that?”
“That,” Cas said. “Is what it feels like when you touch me here.”
That spot was one of Dean’s favorites to grip during sex and Castiel slid both hands down the hunter’s sides then up to cup the bases of the wings just above the waistband of his jeans, thumbs toward Dean’s spine, fingers splayed out on his sides. Dean’s spine bowed, breath catching in his throat like Cas had grabbed something lower on the front of his body.
“Jesus Christ!” he breathed out.
Castiel set his teeth into Dean’s neck just below his ear, a slight warning pressure.
“What did I say about calling my brother’s name during our time together?” he whispered.
“Sorry,” Dean panted. “Fuck, don’t stop.”
Castiel ran his tongue over the red marks his teeth had left in Dean’s skin and took his hands away from the hunter’s back. Dean whined, high in his throat.
“Cas, please.”
“Shh,” he soothed then traced the thick band of black that outlined Dean’s right wing. Dean whimpered, his head falling back as he fought to stay upright. Castiel studied his fingertips, rubbing his thumb over them, smearing the soft black powder Dean’s wing had left on them. Glancing to the left the angel pressed his palm to the rust colored eyespot the size of a dinner plate and brought his hand away covered in color. He pressed his other palm to a smaller spot, this one an electric blue, on the lower wing then brought both hands to Dean’s shoulders, running his palms down Dean’s chest as far as he could reach, leaving bright trails of dust behind until he reached his goal. He rolled Dean’s nipples between his fingers, feeling the hunter shiver against him. Dean’s wings twitched, closing in on either side of Castiel and leaving bright patterns on his skin. The angel shivered as the soft dust powdered his skin before bringing his hands back to grip Dean’s shoulders and hold him still as he began pressing kisses down his spine.
Castiel went to his knees to reach Dean’s lower back, threading his arms under the sharp angle of the lower wings to reach around the hunter’s hips to his belt buckle. Dean groaned, reaching to help the angel shove his jeans and boxer shorts down as Castiel’s tongue snaked under his waistband. He overbalanced as he shoved his jeans down his thighs, only Castiel’s hands on his hips and a quick reflexive flap of his wings kept the hunter on his feet.
“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said as he perched on the edge of the bed so he could kick off the jeans without falling over. The wings didn’t weigh much but they’d still shot his balance all to hell and weren’t half as flexible as angel wings.
Castiel moved closer and Dean glanced up, then paused, jeans at his ankles, and stared. Cas was covered in color; a half moon of electric blue graced his shoulder while another arch of emerald green curved over his hip, standing out even more brilliantly against the black of his slacks with white, pink, and more swaths of green dotting the legs. There were streaks of black, red-violet and white on his upper arms and sea-green smeared on his wrists and the backs of his hands, the webbing between thumb and palm, the palm of his right solid rust while the left nearly glowed with electric blue. He had spots of pink, lavender, and blue dotting his torso and a streak of rust high on his right cheek. Wordlessly, Dean reached out, cupping Castiel’s cheek and smearing the dark red powder as the angel nuzzled into his touch.
“C’mere,” he murmured huskily, gently guiding Castiel closer with that one hand. Cas went easily, on hands and knees, his dark wings arched a few inches from his back, covered in the colors of Dean’s wings. It was one of the hottest things Dean had ever seen.
Castiel closed the few feet separating them and rose up on his knees, resting his hands on Dean’s naked thighs as the hunter pressed their lips together. Their lips pressed close, nostrils flaring as each breathed in the other’s scent, Dean’s free hand closed on Castiel’s shoulder, rubbing the silky blue powder into his skin. Castiel sighed into Dean’s mouth as their tongues met in a soft, slow caress, his wings automatically flaring out to wrap around his human but stopped when they encountered Dean’s newest additions. The butterfly wings pulsed softly with each beat of Dean’s heart, brushing their silky scaled surfaces against the softness of the angel’s feathers, leaving more powder in their wake. They both shivered as their wings rubbed together, their mouths breaking apart so they could press their foreheads together and just breathe for a moment. Castiel felt Dean’s other hand move from his shoulder to the other side of his face and opened his eyes to meet the hunter’s green gaze.
Holding Dean’s eyes with his own Castiel snaked one arm around the human’s hips and gripped his erection with the other hand, watching Dean’s face as he stroked him one, two, three times before Dean closed his eyes and pressed their mouths together again. The kiss was hungrier than the first, full of hot breaths, slick tongues, and the promise of flesh pressed close together. Castiel moaned at that promise and Dean echoed him before kicking one foot free of his jeans to wrap his legs around the angel’s torso and pull him closer. His hands slid from Castiel’s face, down his chest, smearing color in their wake, then attacked his belt and the fastenings of his trousers. Dean barely got his fly open before reaching inside to grip Castiel’s length and give it a firm squeeze. He managed to catch the yelp that tried to sound when the angel wrapped both arms around his hips, stood with the taller man in his arms, turned and took Dean’s place seated at the edge of the bed.
He wanted to make some smart-assed remark about getting a little warning next time when he caught sight of the look on Castiel’s face, the intent in his brilliant blue eyes, and licked his lips as his mouth suddenly went dry. One arm still wrapped firmly around Dean’s hips, Castiel leaned to the side and reached for the bedside table and the lube Dean had habitually put there since he’d first discovered what his dick was for. Cas’ fingers were a few inches shy of his goal and Dean smirked as the angel death-glared at the drawer just beyond his reach before bracing one hand on the bed between the long flight feathers of Castiel’s outstretched wing and treated the angel to the long line of his torso as he retrieved the tube. The angel leaned up and caught one nipple between his teeth and Dean drew back, his breath stuttering in his throat, nearly dropping the tube at the sharp pleasure-pain of Cas’ teeth scrapping over his sensitive flesh.
Breathing hard Dean pressed a fast, hard kiss to the angel’s lips as he sat up and squeezed a large dollop of the liquid onto his fingers. Castiel remained reclining on a bed of his own rainbow powdered, midnight feathers as he watched Dean start to reach back but encounter his wing. After a second to let his sex-fogged brain sort though this new problem Dean reached between his legs from the front, biting his lip as his wrist brushed his straining erection and pressing slick fingers inside. He clenched around his digits, letting a groan rumble out of his chest as he flexed and twisted his fingers inside himself. There was an echoing vibration of sound beneath him and Dean opened his eyes, catching Castiel’s enraptured gaze as he slipped one more finger inside and pressed against his prostate. His dick jumped, a drop of precum rolling down from the tip, and Dean pressed the flat of his forearm against himself, trapping his dick against his stomach and let his head fall back.
He felt the bed shift as Castiel sat up, hands gripping Dean’s hips again, his lips finding the spot on his throat where his pulse fluttered beneath the skin. His lips parted and Dean felt his hot breath on his skin a second before Castiel’s teeth closed on his flesh. Dean jerked at the unexpected action then pressed into the bite, one hand going to the back of Castiel’s head to hold him there as the other abandoned his hole to grip the angel’s cock in a slick fist. Cas’ hands tightened on Dean’s hips as the hunter rose up, both of them moving in tandem as Dean positioned Castiel at his entrance and lowered himself in one long, slow slide. Dean let out a soft cry as Castiel bottomed out inside of him, Castiel’s teeth releasing their hold on Dean’s throat, fingers tightening on his hips nearly to the point of pain as the hunter’s heat closed around him. They both paused to just breathe for a moment, relishing that first moment of joining as they held the other close. Soon, Castiel’s fingers loosened their death-grip on Dean though they both knew the human would have bruises in the morning. Dean trailed his fingers over Cas’ shoulder, rubbing more of that brilliantly colored powder over his skin, then down his shoulder blades and, with a wicked grin, grabbed the base of the angel’s wings and ground his hips down at the same time.
Castiel let out a shout of pleasure, his head flying back as his hips jerked up hard into Dean, making him cry out and tighten his hold on the angel’s wings. Cas’ fingers bit into Dean’s skin again as the angel began to move him in his lap, hard and fast, over and over and Dean gladly gave in to the man-handling, bracing his knees against the bedspread as he rocked in time with Cas’ thrusts, tilting his hips until Castiel pressed into that bundle of nerves with every push into his body, making Dean see stars. Castiel’s hands found the bases of Dean’s wings and Dean jerked in his arms, crying out as he suddenly started to cum in thick spurts without even being touched. His hands clutched at Castiel’s feathers as the pleasure rushed through him, holding the angel as close as he could get him. Cas buried his face in Dean’s throat, hands sliding to the human’s ass, gripping the firm globes in a bruising hold then he was coming too, a slick rush of heat deep inside that had Dean clenching around him, drawing out the pleasure until Castiel stilled in his arms, panting into the crook of his neck as Dean smoothed his hands over his shoulders and buried his nose in the damp hair at Castiel’s temple. He registered the fabric of Castiel’s pants beneath his thighs, the slick feel of the shiny black leather of his belt brushing against Dean’s skin as they shifted against each other, letting blood flow back into neglected limbs. Dean’s knees were grateful for the attention.
“Wow,” Dean breathed, not even caring how Jr. High it sounded ‘cause that had been awesome.
“Yes,” Castiel agreed and for some reason Dean found that, the whole situation, incredibly funny.
He tried to stifle the laughter bubbling up inside him, biting his lip and pressing his face into the crook of Castiel’s neck but a tiny snort escaped, then another followed by a small string of giggles that he would deny later. Dean Winchester did not giggle!
Castiel gave an involuntary jerk of his hips as Dean’s laughter clenched him around where Cas was still buried, then pulled back to study his human, a small frown forming between his brows. Dean watched as Cas tilted his head at him, patented ‘Humans are Strange’ look firmly in place, and immediately lost his battle with hilarity. He couldn’t even talk; he just wrapped his arms around his aching middle and howled. Castiel regarded him for several moments more before employing one of Dean’s own techniques and pulled the hunter into a kiss.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few hours later found the two fast asleep. Well, Dean was asleep, stretched out on his stomach, wings standing up from his back, pulsing slightly with every beat of his heart and fanning gently as he breathed. Castiel lay on his side, his own wings draped behind him, trailing onto the floor as he watched Dean dream. He listened to Dean mutter his name then wrap his pillow in his arms and bury his face in it and felt a small smile curve his lips. Giving in to temptation, Castiel reached out and trailed one finger over the top curve of Dean’s wing, watching as the hunter writhed in his sleep, reacting to the stimulus but quickly drew his hand away when a scraping sounded at the door.
Out of bed in a heartbeat, Castiel clothed his lower half with a thought, wings drawing tight to his back as he swiftly approached the door. He hadn’t heard the Impala pull up out front but Sam hadn’t called for assistance either. It was fully possible that the younger Winchester had returned during his and Dean’s coupling and decided to go to a bar for a few hours, then walked back instead of risk himself and Dean’s car, but if that were the case, why wasn’t he using his key? Sam always took great care to remain in full control.
Pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind and calling his sword to his hand, Castiel wrenched the door open on a very surprised Sam Winchester. At least, he assumed it was Sam Winchester. The top half looked like him anyway but from the hips down Sam’s legs had been replaced with what appeared to be the body of a large Morgan horse.
Centaur and angel stared at each other for a moment.
“The witches,” they said together. Castiel nodded acceptance as Sam flushed, clutching the piece of wire he’d been attempting to pick the lock with in one large hand.
“The key was in my pants,” Sam muttered under his breath. His pants which had disappeared when his new, um, anatomy, had appeared.
“Cas?” Dean’s voice sounded, thick with sleep. “Is Sam back?”
Castiel watched with detached fascination as Sam’s eyes widened to nearly resemble one of the cartoon characters Dean watched on television in the mornings as his brother tugged on his boxers and shuffled across the room to the door.
There was dead silence for a span of time, then, Dean started laughing. Sam crossed his arms and scowled at his brother.
“Oh, there is a God!” Dean proclaimed joyfully.
Sam glowered at him.
“I hate you.”
to the sequel: I Thought You Liked Horses?