Little Deaths
Series Title: Purgatory Trilogy
Title: Little Deaths
Pairings: Dean/Death
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to 6.22
Warnings: AU, slash, bottom!Dean, bare backing
Word Count: 3,367
Note: Written for the Death entry on the July 2011 community bingo card over at the dean_slash comm.
Summary: After the events of 6.22, Death visits Dean again.
The moment he was alone, Dean flung the first breakable thing he could find at the wall. It shattered into a shower of glass but for once it utterly failed to satisfy him in the least so he grabbed something else and threw it as well, not giving a fuck about what it was or how Bobby might react once he and Sam got back from picking up the equally shattered wreck of his baby.
For the first time in his life Dean found that he couldn't care less about the Impala and he'd told them as much but they'd insisted on going to get her right away regardless. What did it matter what happened to her, at least while Castiel was... was...
The next thing to hit the wall made a different sound and Dean realized that he'd thrown a full bottle of Jack. Damnit, he'd meant to drink that!
"Very mature."
The dry, ageless voice froze Dean's muscles instantly while the hair at the back of his neck rose and his heart was suddenly going a mile a minute in his chest. He didn't even need to turn around to know exactly who was standing behind him and it was almost too much for him. First Castiel going Dark Side and giving them a week to bow down and pronounce their love for him or die and now this.
Death.
Dean felt like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees but he wasn't entirely sure if it actually had or whether that was just him. He could easily admit to himself that Death scared the crap out of him. Scared him half to death even (har de fucking har). Not even the devil himself had terrified him as much, not that he'd ever tell Lucifer that to his face if he ever saw the angel again. Despite that he simply refused to allow himself to be totally cowed and he turned to face the horseman.
"What, no food this time?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.
"No, I have other things to do today," Death replied stepping closer.
Instinctively Dean took a step back before he could stop himself. Apparently he still had some type of survival instinct left after all. Imagine that.
"Ah, something I can help you with?" Dean asked, half afraid he'd be struck down for his presumptuousness. But hey, the guy had chosen to come to him here, hadn't he?
"Surprisingly, yes."
Oh shit, that wasn't good. Dean had asked it simply for something to say and to get Death talking so that he could figure out what the hell the horseman was doing here. He'd never actually expected to get a positive response and if that wasn't the story of his life then he didn't know what was.
"What? Really? And here I thought I was just an insignificant bacterium hardly worth your notice."
Fuck, but one of these days he was actually going to think about what he said before the words were already out of his mouth. And when the hell had Death gotten so close anyway? Dean tried to hold his ground but the combination of the chill that seemed to be emanating from the guy and his own terror was too much and he stepped back, trying to make it look like anything but a retreat though from the predatory gleam in Death's eyes he was pretty sure that he'd failed spectacularly. What did the guy want with him though? Death had made it more than clear during their previous meetings that he was little more than a bug to be squashed, or not even worth that, so he just didn't get why the horseman was here now. What could the guy possibly want from him?
"You are supposed to be," Death replied calmly, following him step for step. "But you just refuse to be a normal human, always interfering in things you have no business tampering with."
"Uh, sorry?"
Death's right eyebrow rose at that. "Do you think you can lie to me, Dean? That I don't know you'd do the same thing again if given another chance?"
"There are things I'd change!" Dean protested instantly, surprising himself with the vehemence in his voice.
But it was true, one hundred percent true. If given the chance he'd definitely make sure that things would go differently. He didn't think he could handle seeing Castiel like that again, all power high on the countless souls inside of him. Yeah, he knew that it wasn't entirely up to him and that his friend had done what he had of his own free will, but he refused to believe that he couldn't do anything to prevent it. Just the mere thought of seeing the self-proclaimed God again at the end of the week was nearly enough to make him sick and not because he was sure of the inevitable outcome of that particular meeting but rather because of the fact that he'd have to see the twisted thing that his friend had become.
"Hmm, perhaps," Death said softly, studying him.
The attention freaked Dean out even more and he took another step back only to have his back hit the wall as glass crunched beneath his feet. Shit, fuck! His heart leapt into his throat as he realized that he'd been effortlessly herded to exactly where Death wanted him. Ironically the feel of the Desert Eagle at the small of his back only made him feel that much more vulnerable as he knew how useless it was against the being before him. The thought that the horseman could kill him with just a touch sent a flash of panic through him and he almost prayed to Castiel before he remembered what Death had told him during their first meeting about someday reaping the real God Himself.
"Besides, you're the one that said I should keep digging at the soul thing!"
"So I did. Did you like what you found?"
The sudden desire to clock Death rose within Dean but this impulse he managed to restrain in time. He could only imagine what the consequences of that particular action would be and they weren't pretty to say the least.
Suddenly Death was right in front of him doing such a good imitation of Castiel's signature invasion of his personal space that Dean's breath caught in his throat. Then there was a hand on his face and he was sure that he was dead as ice flooded through his veins.
"I thought so," Death stated, clearly pleased with himself.
It took Dean a moment to realize that he wasn't actually dead and a few more to process what the horseman had said. The hand on his face was distracting him, sending an unbearable chill into him and forcing the memories of dying (all of them!) to the surface. It wasn't so much a recollection of what had killed him and how, but rather the actual sensation of dying itself, that final disconnect with the body and whole floating white light thing, and it captivated him. It was both terrifying and alluring at the same time and he just couldn't decide if he wanted to pull away from it or reach out for more.
"Thought what?" Dean finally managed to force out, trying to ignore the helpless little whine that had preceded his question.
"That you'd be able to survive my touch."
The words froze the rest of Dean as he realized that he'd been used as a science experiment by Death. At the same time it also made him want the horseman's touch even more, to know how close to death he'd actually come. Perhaps there really was something to Sammy's fears that he had a death wish after all. Words were beyond him now though and his eyes started to roll up and back as the chill continued to spread through him, hypnotizing and mesmerizing him even further.
"God really threw the rulebook out the window when he created you, didn't he?" Death mused. "Though I am finally starting to understand why."
The words washed over Dean, their meaning mostly lost on him as all of his attention was locked on the struggle within him and the inhuman touch to his face. It was overwhelming and all-consuming and he both hated and loved it at once. Then, suddenly, it was gone and he nearly dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut but caught himself just in time as that would have caused him to fall against Death and he wasn't sure if he could survive more of that.
His breath was coming in short, hard bursts as if he'd run a marathon and Dean was helpless to do anything at first until both it and his heartbeat had calmed down. When he finally glanced up it was to find Death just as close as before only now the predatory expression covered his whole face and not just his eyes. A small, terrified and panicked noise escaped him before he could stop himself, causing the horseman to actually fucking smile.
"I am going to enjoy this," Death declared.
"Enjoy what?" Dean spat, furious. As always, the feeling of being helpless had morphed into anger.
"The transference."
"Transference, what transference?"
"Of some of my power to you."
"What?!"
Before Dean could even begin to wonder what the hell that was all about, Death's lips were on his. Instantly the chill and ice were back, only ten times worse and better than before and he mewled before he could stop himself. It was wonder and terror, lust and disgust all at once and the need for more warred with the desire for it to stop, feeling as if it would tear him apart. Dimly he was aware that he'd started kissing Death back but a few quick nips to his lips told him exactly who was in charge and he moaned helplessly as a tongue was suddenly in his mouth, cold as ice. The beautiful, euphoric, terrifying feeling of death was back, enticing and repelling.
When Death finally pulled back an eternity later that was actually far too soon, Dean was left reeling. He was lost, confused and, to his infinite horror, hard beyond all reason. The next thing he knew he'd been spun around and slammed back into the wall and he yelped before Death was whispering in his ear.
"Do you want your friend back? The little angel?"
"What? Yes, of course!"
"And what would you be willing to do for him to ensure that? Hmm, Dean?"
Dean knew the answer to that question instantly but something stilled his tongue briefly. The air was charged now like it was right before a magnificent storm but he could still make out the light of the sun filtering into the room out of the corner of his eye. So it was magic then and that made him pause momentarily, having learned to respect this kind of power despite himself. But if this could help Castiel, could help bring his friend back and defuse the power hungry and smite happy being the angel had become, then he knew that he had to take it.
For everyone's sake.
"Anything," Dean declared firmly, though his heart started racing in his chest once more, afraid that he'd just damned himself once more and more worried at how little he cared about that than anything else.
"Are you sure?" Death whispered. "Because I can give you the power to stop him, to draw the souls from him and return them to Purgatory, but it will require a transference, a physical transference, to give you that power."
The hand that dropped to his ass left Dean in no doubt as to what exactly this physical transference entailed and his nails dug into Bobby's wallpaper at the thought. Elation and horror swept through him and he felt faint at the mere idea of doing that with Death (with Death!) himself. The desire for it and the need to run away rose within him and warred with each other. Whatever was left of his survival instinct screamed at him to get the fuck away and now before he did something absolutely insane while the part of him that had loved and elated in experiencing the feeling of death, of the disconnect with his body, screamed for more.
Like an addict for his next hit.
He was looking at this all wrong, though, Dean realized. This wasn't about him at all. It was about Castiel and all of the people (and angels, he supposed) that he could save by defusing his friend.
"What... what'll it do to Cas?" Dean asked, voice completely wrecked, making him wonder what sounds he'd made earlier.
"Nothing, your precious little angel will be fine."
Unable to quite believe that, Dean tried to twist his neck around to see the horseman. "What, just like that?"
"Those are the rules of the agreement between myself and God. I don't kill any of his angels and he leaves my reapers alone."
Oh, that made sense, though the reminder of God, the real God, just served to piss Dean off all over again. If He would just-
Dean keened as a finger slipped under his shirt and caressed the soft skin of his belly.
"Well, Dean?"
Death's breath ghosted over Dean's ear and the lust and terror overwhelmed him once more, washing away all coherent thought.
"Yes."
There wasn't even time for Dean to second guess his decision before his jeans and boxers were gone and ice encased his still straining cock. He screamed, clawing at the wall as the euphoria of death washed over him, hijacking his commonsense and rational thought. All that was left was the animal side of him that lusted for more or cried out in horror and fought to get away. Bliss still flooded through him despite the feeling of physical disconnect that engulfed him and he felt like he was disconnected from his meat suit and a slave to it all at once.
Everything became a thousand times more intense as the chill and ice swept across his ass and upper thighs. Dean didn't have enough control left to do anything but take it but he cried out as the chill seemed to move inside of him. He bucked forwards into the hand freezing his cock but hardening it impossibly further at the same time but that failed to stop the touch within him and it only grew instead.
Euphoria swept over Dean once more and his eyes dropped shut as the now familiar sensation of death crashed over him once more. No matter what had preceded it, that absolute final moment, the one where the soul had been freed of the dead meat suit, had always been nothing but pure bliss, as good as anything he'd ever experienced during sex. Now to feel it stretched out over an extended period of time while also being sexually aroused at the same time? It was indescribable and he wanted more. No, he needed more like he needed to breathe or needed his brother to be alive. It was everything and he never wanted it to end.
Impossibly it got better as solid ice and chill stabbed into him and Dean lost all track of what was escaping from between his lips. He didn't care so long as this kept going. It took his addled brain far too long to realize that the stabbing chill and ice was Death himself inside of him or rather his cock, but he didn't care anymore. Not so long as a he could feel death in all of its glory. Sex and death, no sex, death and Death, it was the most potent and terrifying aphrodisiac he'd ever experienced before.
At some point the rusty tang of blood penetrated but it still took Dean a few seconds to connect that with the hot, slippery feel beneath his fingers, but when he did he realized that he'd been clawing the wallpaper into bloody ribbons. Even as his mind spiraled ever higher on the overwhelming and heady mix of lust and terror, his body was fighting frantically to get away; to escape. The fundamental disconnect terrified him even more but was completely unable to make him stop or bring together his warring self. His mind still wanted more while his body needed escape.
There were a few sharp words spoken directly into his ear in a language he didn't know and then his world exploded, liquid ice spilling inside of him and death dragging him under.
/
Awareness when it returned was nearly a shock to the system and Dean absently realized that he hadn't been sure it even would. Return that was. The memory of what had happened, of what he'd done caused his spent dick to twitch helplessly against his thigh even as it filled him with horror and disbelief. God, had he really? With Death?
"Ah, good, you're awake."
The words jerked Dean right out of his silent freak out and back to the present and he forced himself to focus on his surroundings instead of the mixed reactions that voice caused within him. He'd collapsed in a heap against the wall, blood coating his fingertips, and his jeans and boxers twisted around his legs with his naked, freezing ass on the hard floor. It felt like his ass and upper thighs had fucking frostbite and he half wondered if they'd be all bluish white right now. More blood and shreds of wallpaper coated the wall by his head and his nose crinkled at the smell. Most importantly, however, Death was crouched beside him, though thankfully fully clothed and pristine as ever.
"What the f- hell was that?" Dean demanded hoarsely.
His voice startled him and Dean couldn't help but wonder just how much he'd screamed for the horseman. The thought filled him with disgust and self-hatred as well as heat and he tried to shove it all aside.
"Be thankful you survived," Death said in the same tone he always used and Dean briefly wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing.
Therefore the last thing he expected was for Death to suddenly pull him forward into another chilled kiss. After what they'd just done, Dean was now aware enough during the kiss to feel that something was different. For one there was more ice than before and he seemed to be literally sucking it into himself without meaning to.
"Good, it worked," Death stated, pulling back.
"The transference?"
"Yes."
"Okay, so now what?"
"Now you call your little angel to you and you kiss him."
"Wait, what?"
Dean could hardly believe what he was hearing and to make matters even worse he realized that the chill wasn't lifting, at least not fully. Rather, it seemed to have taken up residence inside of him and seemed to have no intention of letting go and leaving.
"It is the only way to remove the souls without killing him," Death explained.
"Just like that? And how the hell am I supposed to kiss him anyway?"
"You are his greatest weakness, he will let you close enough."
"Not if he senses that I'm no longer me."
"He will not."
Dean snorted. "You've kinda left your mark."
"You on your knees swearing your allegiance and love to him will be enough to blind him to all else."
The image made Dean swallow hard as he realized that it was exactly what he'd have to do if he wanted to get close enough to Castiel for this to work. At least Sam and Bobby weren't here to witness it.
"Just do not touch anyone else as you will not like what happens to them," Death added.
Dean didn't even want to know what would happen as he had more than enough to think about as it was. But... "Will it just go away, afterwards?"
"No, I shall be back to reclaim my transference."
The look Death gave him left Dean in absolutely no doubt what that would entail and he could only swallow in anticipation and dread at the mere thought.
Sequel: At Death's Door
A.N.: For the record, I just want to state that this is entirely sarkywoman's fault. Entirely. I was just minding my own business, not even contemplating something as out there as Dean/Death slash when she went and posted that blasted community bingo card with Death among the many characters to pair Dean up with. And that just got me thinking about how on Earth it could happen and voila, this is the end result of that.
And damn if UD isn't making me eye those Michael and Threesomes squares just a little too closely for comfort as well.
Oh, anyone know if there's a Death comm out there somewhere?
Title: Little Deaths
Pairings: Dean/Death
Rating: R
Spoilers: up to 6.22
Warnings: AU, slash, bottom!Dean, bare backing
Word Count: 3,367
Note: Written for the Death entry on the July 2011 community bingo card over at the dean_slash comm.
Summary: After the events of 6.22, Death visits Dean again.
The moment he was alone, Dean flung the first breakable thing he could find at the wall. It shattered into a shower of glass but for once it utterly failed to satisfy him in the least so he grabbed something else and threw it as well, not giving a fuck about what it was or how Bobby might react once he and Sam got back from picking up the equally shattered wreck of his baby.
For the first time in his life Dean found that he couldn't care less about the Impala and he'd told them as much but they'd insisted on going to get her right away regardless. What did it matter what happened to her, at least while Castiel was... was...
The next thing to hit the wall made a different sound and Dean realized that he'd thrown a full bottle of Jack. Damnit, he'd meant to drink that!
"Very mature."
The dry, ageless voice froze Dean's muscles instantly while the hair at the back of his neck rose and his heart was suddenly going a mile a minute in his chest. He didn't even need to turn around to know exactly who was standing behind him and it was almost too much for him. First Castiel going Dark Side and giving them a week to bow down and pronounce their love for him or die and now this.
Death.
Dean felt like the temperature in the room had dropped several degrees but he wasn't entirely sure if it actually had or whether that was just him. He could easily admit to himself that Death scared the crap out of him. Scared him half to death even (har de fucking har). Not even the devil himself had terrified him as much, not that he'd ever tell Lucifer that to his face if he ever saw the angel again. Despite that he simply refused to allow himself to be totally cowed and he turned to face the horseman.
"What, no food this time?" Dean asked before he could stop himself.
"No, I have other things to do today," Death replied stepping closer.
Instinctively Dean took a step back before he could stop himself. Apparently he still had some type of survival instinct left after all. Imagine that.
"Ah, something I can help you with?" Dean asked, half afraid he'd be struck down for his presumptuousness. But hey, the guy had chosen to come to him here, hadn't he?
"Surprisingly, yes."
Oh shit, that wasn't good. Dean had asked it simply for something to say and to get Death talking so that he could figure out what the hell the horseman was doing here. He'd never actually expected to get a positive response and if that wasn't the story of his life then he didn't know what was.
"What? Really? And here I thought I was just an insignificant bacterium hardly worth your notice."
Fuck, but one of these days he was actually going to think about what he said before the words were already out of his mouth. And when the hell had Death gotten so close anyway? Dean tried to hold his ground but the combination of the chill that seemed to be emanating from the guy and his own terror was too much and he stepped back, trying to make it look like anything but a retreat though from the predatory gleam in Death's eyes he was pretty sure that he'd failed spectacularly. What did the guy want with him though? Death had made it more than clear during their previous meetings that he was little more than a bug to be squashed, or not even worth that, so he just didn't get why the horseman was here now. What could the guy possibly want from him?
"You are supposed to be," Death replied calmly, following him step for step. "But you just refuse to be a normal human, always interfering in things you have no business tampering with."
"Uh, sorry?"
Death's right eyebrow rose at that. "Do you think you can lie to me, Dean? That I don't know you'd do the same thing again if given another chance?"
"There are things I'd change!" Dean protested instantly, surprising himself with the vehemence in his voice.
But it was true, one hundred percent true. If given the chance he'd definitely make sure that things would go differently. He didn't think he could handle seeing Castiel like that again, all power high on the countless souls inside of him. Yeah, he knew that it wasn't entirely up to him and that his friend had done what he had of his own free will, but he refused to believe that he couldn't do anything to prevent it. Just the mere thought of seeing the self-proclaimed God again at the end of the week was nearly enough to make him sick and not because he was sure of the inevitable outcome of that particular meeting but rather because of the fact that he'd have to see the twisted thing that his friend had become.
"Hmm, perhaps," Death said softly, studying him.
The attention freaked Dean out even more and he took another step back only to have his back hit the wall as glass crunched beneath his feet. Shit, fuck! His heart leapt into his throat as he realized that he'd been effortlessly herded to exactly where Death wanted him. Ironically the feel of the Desert Eagle at the small of his back only made him feel that much more vulnerable as he knew how useless it was against the being before him. The thought that the horseman could kill him with just a touch sent a flash of panic through him and he almost prayed to Castiel before he remembered what Death had told him during their first meeting about someday reaping the real God Himself.
"Besides, you're the one that said I should keep digging at the soul thing!"
"So I did. Did you like what you found?"
The sudden desire to clock Death rose within Dean but this impulse he managed to restrain in time. He could only imagine what the consequences of that particular action would be and they weren't pretty to say the least.
Suddenly Death was right in front of him doing such a good imitation of Castiel's signature invasion of his personal space that Dean's breath caught in his throat. Then there was a hand on his face and he was sure that he was dead as ice flooded through his veins.
"I thought so," Death stated, clearly pleased with himself.
It took Dean a moment to realize that he wasn't actually dead and a few more to process what the horseman had said. The hand on his face was distracting him, sending an unbearable chill into him and forcing the memories of dying (all of them!) to the surface. It wasn't so much a recollection of what had killed him and how, but rather the actual sensation of dying itself, that final disconnect with the body and whole floating white light thing, and it captivated him. It was both terrifying and alluring at the same time and he just couldn't decide if he wanted to pull away from it or reach out for more.
"Thought what?" Dean finally managed to force out, trying to ignore the helpless little whine that had preceded his question.
"That you'd be able to survive my touch."
The words froze the rest of Dean as he realized that he'd been used as a science experiment by Death. At the same time it also made him want the horseman's touch even more, to know how close to death he'd actually come. Perhaps there really was something to Sammy's fears that he had a death wish after all. Words were beyond him now though and his eyes started to roll up and back as the chill continued to spread through him, hypnotizing and mesmerizing him even further.
"God really threw the rulebook out the window when he created you, didn't he?" Death mused. "Though I am finally starting to understand why."
The words washed over Dean, their meaning mostly lost on him as all of his attention was locked on the struggle within him and the inhuman touch to his face. It was overwhelming and all-consuming and he both hated and loved it at once. Then, suddenly, it was gone and he nearly dropped like a marionette whose strings had been cut but caught himself just in time as that would have caused him to fall against Death and he wasn't sure if he could survive more of that.
His breath was coming in short, hard bursts as if he'd run a marathon and Dean was helpless to do anything at first until both it and his heartbeat had calmed down. When he finally glanced up it was to find Death just as close as before only now the predatory expression covered his whole face and not just his eyes. A small, terrified and panicked noise escaped him before he could stop himself, causing the horseman to actually fucking smile.
"I am going to enjoy this," Death declared.
"Enjoy what?" Dean spat, furious. As always, the feeling of being helpless had morphed into anger.
"The transference."
"Transference, what transference?"
"Of some of my power to you."
"What?!"
Before Dean could even begin to wonder what the hell that was all about, Death's lips were on his. Instantly the chill and ice were back, only ten times worse and better than before and he mewled before he could stop himself. It was wonder and terror, lust and disgust all at once and the need for more warred with the desire for it to stop, feeling as if it would tear him apart. Dimly he was aware that he'd started kissing Death back but a few quick nips to his lips told him exactly who was in charge and he moaned helplessly as a tongue was suddenly in his mouth, cold as ice. The beautiful, euphoric, terrifying feeling of death was back, enticing and repelling.
When Death finally pulled back an eternity later that was actually far too soon, Dean was left reeling. He was lost, confused and, to his infinite horror, hard beyond all reason. The next thing he knew he'd been spun around and slammed back into the wall and he yelped before Death was whispering in his ear.
"Do you want your friend back? The little angel?"
"What? Yes, of course!"
"And what would you be willing to do for him to ensure that? Hmm, Dean?"
Dean knew the answer to that question instantly but something stilled his tongue briefly. The air was charged now like it was right before a magnificent storm but he could still make out the light of the sun filtering into the room out of the corner of his eye. So it was magic then and that made him pause momentarily, having learned to respect this kind of power despite himself. But if this could help Castiel, could help bring his friend back and defuse the power hungry and smite happy being the angel had become, then he knew that he had to take it.
For everyone's sake.
"Anything," Dean declared firmly, though his heart started racing in his chest once more, afraid that he'd just damned himself once more and more worried at how little he cared about that than anything else.
"Are you sure?" Death whispered. "Because I can give you the power to stop him, to draw the souls from him and return them to Purgatory, but it will require a transference, a physical transference, to give you that power."
The hand that dropped to his ass left Dean in no doubt as to what exactly this physical transference entailed and his nails dug into Bobby's wallpaper at the thought. Elation and horror swept through him and he felt faint at the mere idea of doing that with Death (with Death!) himself. The desire for it and the need to run away rose within him and warred with each other. Whatever was left of his survival instinct screamed at him to get the fuck away and now before he did something absolutely insane while the part of him that had loved and elated in experiencing the feeling of death, of the disconnect with his body, screamed for more.
Like an addict for his next hit.
He was looking at this all wrong, though, Dean realized. This wasn't about him at all. It was about Castiel and all of the people (and angels, he supposed) that he could save by defusing his friend.
"What... what'll it do to Cas?" Dean asked, voice completely wrecked, making him wonder what sounds he'd made earlier.
"Nothing, your precious little angel will be fine."
Unable to quite believe that, Dean tried to twist his neck around to see the horseman. "What, just like that?"
"Those are the rules of the agreement between myself and God. I don't kill any of his angels and he leaves my reapers alone."
Oh, that made sense, though the reminder of God, the real God, just served to piss Dean off all over again. If He would just-
Dean keened as a finger slipped under his shirt and caressed the soft skin of his belly.
"Well, Dean?"
Death's breath ghosted over Dean's ear and the lust and terror overwhelmed him once more, washing away all coherent thought.
"Yes."
There wasn't even time for Dean to second guess his decision before his jeans and boxers were gone and ice encased his still straining cock. He screamed, clawing at the wall as the euphoria of death washed over him, hijacking his commonsense and rational thought. All that was left was the animal side of him that lusted for more or cried out in horror and fought to get away. Bliss still flooded through him despite the feeling of physical disconnect that engulfed him and he felt like he was disconnected from his meat suit and a slave to it all at once.
Everything became a thousand times more intense as the chill and ice swept across his ass and upper thighs. Dean didn't have enough control left to do anything but take it but he cried out as the chill seemed to move inside of him. He bucked forwards into the hand freezing his cock but hardening it impossibly further at the same time but that failed to stop the touch within him and it only grew instead.
Euphoria swept over Dean once more and his eyes dropped shut as the now familiar sensation of death crashed over him once more. No matter what had preceded it, that absolute final moment, the one where the soul had been freed of the dead meat suit, had always been nothing but pure bliss, as good as anything he'd ever experienced during sex. Now to feel it stretched out over an extended period of time while also being sexually aroused at the same time? It was indescribable and he wanted more. No, he needed more like he needed to breathe or needed his brother to be alive. It was everything and he never wanted it to end.
Impossibly it got better as solid ice and chill stabbed into him and Dean lost all track of what was escaping from between his lips. He didn't care so long as this kept going. It took his addled brain far too long to realize that the stabbing chill and ice was Death himself inside of him or rather his cock, but he didn't care anymore. Not so long as a he could feel death in all of its glory. Sex and death, no sex, death and Death, it was the most potent and terrifying aphrodisiac he'd ever experienced before.
At some point the rusty tang of blood penetrated but it still took Dean a few seconds to connect that with the hot, slippery feel beneath his fingers, but when he did he realized that he'd been clawing the wallpaper into bloody ribbons. Even as his mind spiraled ever higher on the overwhelming and heady mix of lust and terror, his body was fighting frantically to get away; to escape. The fundamental disconnect terrified him even more but was completely unable to make him stop or bring together his warring self. His mind still wanted more while his body needed escape.
There were a few sharp words spoken directly into his ear in a language he didn't know and then his world exploded, liquid ice spilling inside of him and death dragging him under.
/
Awareness when it returned was nearly a shock to the system and Dean absently realized that he hadn't been sure it even would. Return that was. The memory of what had happened, of what he'd done caused his spent dick to twitch helplessly against his thigh even as it filled him with horror and disbelief. God, had he really? With Death?
"Ah, good, you're awake."
The words jerked Dean right out of his silent freak out and back to the present and he forced himself to focus on his surroundings instead of the mixed reactions that voice caused within him. He'd collapsed in a heap against the wall, blood coating his fingertips, and his jeans and boxers twisted around his legs with his naked, freezing ass on the hard floor. It felt like his ass and upper thighs had fucking frostbite and he half wondered if they'd be all bluish white right now. More blood and shreds of wallpaper coated the wall by his head and his nose crinkled at the smell. Most importantly, however, Death was crouched beside him, though thankfully fully clothed and pristine as ever.
"What the f- hell was that?" Dean demanded hoarsely.
His voice startled him and Dean couldn't help but wonder just how much he'd screamed for the horseman. The thought filled him with disgust and self-hatred as well as heat and he tried to shove it all aside.
"Be thankful you survived," Death said in the same tone he always used and Dean briefly wondered if he'd imagined the whole thing.
Therefore the last thing he expected was for Death to suddenly pull him forward into another chilled kiss. After what they'd just done, Dean was now aware enough during the kiss to feel that something was different. For one there was more ice than before and he seemed to be literally sucking it into himself without meaning to.
"Good, it worked," Death stated, pulling back.
"The transference?"
"Yes."
"Okay, so now what?"
"Now you call your little angel to you and you kiss him."
"Wait, what?"
Dean could hardly believe what he was hearing and to make matters even worse he realized that the chill wasn't lifting, at least not fully. Rather, it seemed to have taken up residence inside of him and seemed to have no intention of letting go and leaving.
"It is the only way to remove the souls without killing him," Death explained.
"Just like that? And how the hell am I supposed to kiss him anyway?"
"You are his greatest weakness, he will let you close enough."
"Not if he senses that I'm no longer me."
"He will not."
Dean snorted. "You've kinda left your mark."
"You on your knees swearing your allegiance and love to him will be enough to blind him to all else."
The image made Dean swallow hard as he realized that it was exactly what he'd have to do if he wanted to get close enough to Castiel for this to work. At least Sam and Bobby weren't here to witness it.
"Just do not touch anyone else as you will not like what happens to them," Death added.
Dean didn't even want to know what would happen as he had more than enough to think about as it was. But... "Will it just go away, afterwards?"
"No, I shall be back to reclaim my transference."
The look Death gave him left Dean in absolutely no doubt what that would entail and he could only swallow in anticipation and dread at the mere thought.
Sequel: At Death's Door
A.N.: For the record, I just want to state that this is entirely sarkywoman's fault. Entirely. I was just minding my own business, not even contemplating something as out there as Dean/Death slash when she went and posted that blasted community bingo card with Death among the many characters to pair Dean up with. And that just got me thinking about how on Earth it could happen and voila, this is the end result of that.
And damn if UD isn't making me eye those Michael and Threesomes squares just a little too closely for comfort as well.
Oh, anyone know if there's a Death comm out there somewhere?