Supernatural fic: What's In A Name? 2/3 (Dean/Cas AU NC-17 pwp smut)
.
Title: What's In A Name? [2/3] {also at AO3}
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, tiny appearance by Balthazar (in the role of Paris I guess?)
Genre: AU, pwp, smut.
Warnings: language, shower!kink, piercing!kink, tattoo!kink, oral, rimming, Shibari rope tying… how is this a list of warnings? But yes, there is some bondage in this chapter, to be followed by BDSM in the last chapter. So if that isn't your thing, just don't read the last chapter - each chapter was written like a oneshot with its own kind of conclusion. It's all just trashy, if not cracky smut, with very minimal plot to begin with. So it's NOT REALISTIC BDSM either. If you're picky about that kind of thing, you might want to look elsewhere as well!
Word Count: around 4,920 this part. 12,800 all up.
Summary: chapter 2 of the Halloween verse, in which all the crack is gone and only the kink remains, as Dean finally gets his hands on the mystery man he’s been thinking about all week.
A/N: I apologize for initially labeling this as a 2 part piece, but the smut starting going on for so long that even I needed a break!
Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine. And any similarities to Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet or Queer As Folk is... purely intentional!
Reference images for the tattoos, toys, positions etc mentioned in this fic are all indexed here at my livejournal.
~
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
-- Romeo, Act II scene ii
~
Dean’s not sorry about bashing that guy’s face in. He really isn’t. Even though Sammy spent the rest of the night bitching about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself - and even though Dean wouldn’t admit his brother was perfectly capable - Dean knows that given the same circumstances, he’d do the exact same thing in a heartbeat.
But he still can’t get those regret-filled blue eyes out of his head. Not for the whole week. He’d gotten damn right mopey about it too. To the point that when he went to The Roadhouse for lunch one day, Ellen actually kicked him out, complaining that his mopey-face was putting off potential patrons from coming into the diner.
And Dean doesn’t do mopey, dammit. He’s always been more of a ‘grab your guns and go get em’ kind of guy. But how was he supposed to go find someone when he didn’t even have a name to start with, let alone a phone number? And when did he become the kind of person who even wanted to find one of his random hookups in the first place?!
It was just… those friggin’ eyes.
Well, there was also that face. Those lips… That voice… Those wanton moans in his ear… The way the man had trembled so responsively to every touch, uncaring of the crowd around them as he pressed himself against Dean’s body like they were the only two people in the room, grinding against Dean like his life depended on it, and latching onto Dean’s mouth like the man needed Dean’s breath to survive…
Fuck.
Okay, so maybe he had gotten a little obsessed.
Which left him with only one option, really.
So when the weekend finally comes around, Dean finds himself at Queen Mab’s again. His Halloween costume has been traded in for his usual black leather pants and black t-shirt, and the place is marginally more bearable now that the friggin’ glitter isn’t everywhere anymore, but the flashing lights and electronic dance music are still a bit too off-putting for Dean’s liking.
He’s not going anywhere though. He just leans back against the bar, slowly sipping his whisky - and it’s surprisingly easy to ignore the appraising looks and half-smiles of invitation thrown his way, shutting down the bolder offers for a drink or a dance with the reply that he’s waiting for someone - and just keeps his eyes trained on the entrance above.
Dean’s not really sure if it’s him at first. But he gets enough of a glimpse at a hard jawline, a hint of a plush mouth, the shadow of dark tousled hair - that his chest leaps a little in hope. The man walks up to the railing above and rests his hands on it for a moment, scanning the dance floor below, and Dean thinks he recognizes that lean frame underneath the long-sleeved black button down and matching leather pants
His breath speeds up in anticipation.
Then one of the spotlights from the dancefloor shines right on the man’s face, and Dean stops breathing altogether.
It’s him.
Dean’s mystery angel.
And he’s even more gorgeous now than Dean remembers.
The man doesn’t see Dean straight away, casually greeting a few people as they pass by, so Dean downs the rest of his drink, and makes his way to the stairs. Halfway up, Dean sees a blond man stop beside his angel, kissing him on both cheeks in greeting the way douchebags from Paris do. But when the blond rests his hands on the other man’s hips in too-familiar intimacy, every fibre in Dean’s body seems to possessively growl ‘Mine’.
It’s then that the angel’s gaze finally connects with his. And when the man sees Dean standing there, his eyes flare with pleased recognition, the side of his mouth slowly curving up into a smile. He murmurs something to the blond, not even looking at him, then steps away from him, coming to meet Dean at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t stop until he’s well up into Dean’s personal space, and for a moment they just look at each other, taking in the other’s features, remembering, and wanting.
“I’ve been waiting for you all night,” Dean blurts out breathlessly, not giving a second thought to how pathetic he may sound. The other man doesn’t seem to care though, leaning forward to capture Dean’s mouth in an urgent, greedy kiss. Dean groans into it, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back to pull him flush as the man reaches up to cup his face. And when they finally stop for air the man’s hands just hold him there, blue eyes roaming over his features again as they pant hotly against each other’s lips.
“I was hoping I’d see you again,” the man murmurs in that gravel-deep voice of his. Dean can’t help but grin as he leans in for another kiss, this time slow, taking more time to taste the other man’s lips and rediscover how they feel against his own.
Eventually the other man lowers his hands from Dean’s face, taking a deep breath as he leans back and re-establishes a little space between them. “I must apologize for Lucifer’s behavior last week,” the man murmurs apologetically. “My brother has always been something of a trouble-maker.”
“Lives up to his name, huh?” Dean chuckles. But it’s mostly laughter of relief. Not just for the apology, but also for finally learning the truth about the relationship between the two men. A tiny voice he’d been trying to ignore had been worried the two might have been involved or something.
The other man huffs out a laugh in response, before giving him a cautious smile. “Was your… friend… alright?” the man asks, and Dean huffs another laugh when he realizes the other man must have had the same worry.
“Yeah,” Dean grins. “My brother is tougher than he looks,” he tells the man, stressing the word ‘brother’ pointedly.
“Oh,” the other man replies, a pleased smile lighting up his face. And damn if Dean doesn’t find himself smiling stupidly back at the man.
“Listen, I know you just got here… but you wanna go someplace?” Dean asks.
The man doesn’t even pause to think, his blue eyes flashing heat as he nods in response.
~
Dean could’ve easily dragged the man to some dark corner of the back room at Queen Mab’s. He knows the other man wouldn’t have objected, not after they’d fucked each other through their pants on the middle of the dance floor last week. But Dean also knows he doesn’t want a rushed and half-clothed quickie surrounded by whatever other ‘distractions’ might be happening around them.
No, Dean wants to take his time claiming the man. Have the man spread out before him on his own bed, naked and writhing on Dean’s sheets, for only his eyes to see.
And he wants to test the man. Discover his limits, his breaking points, how to put him back together again…
This requires no distractions.
This requires tools.
As soon as they’re back at Dean’s apartment they’re pressed up against the door, gasping into each other’s mouths like drowning men and grinding into each other to ease the waiting ache that had built up on the way from Queen Mab’s… over the whole night… the entire week. When Dean actually has to shove the man away from him for air, the resulting glint in the other man’s eyes from the rough treatment just makes Dean want to forget about the need to breathe altogether, and die from the press of the other man’s mouth again.
But Dean has plans for this responsive little angel. So instead, he fists his hand into the man’s hair, holding the other man’s greedy mouth away, and presses the man into the door with the weight of his hips. Reaching up between their bodies, he brushes his thumb over the man’s shirt where the nipple ring juts out at the material, and pressed together as they are he feels every bit of the tremor that runs through the other man’s body at the touch.
Dean grins, slowly unbuttoning the man’s shirt. “I’m gonna take a shower. And you’re gonna come with me, so I can rub myself all over you while I put my fingers in you,” he commands lowly.
The man sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils blowing out even further as he nods in agreement.
Dean’s grin widens. Responsive and obedient. This is shaping up well.
Yanking the man away from the door, Dean drags him to the bathroom, not stopping until he has the other man pressed against the sink counter and they’re at each other’s mouths again. This time when the inevitable need for air resurfaces Dean doesn’t waste the moment, taking the opportunity to pull off his t-shirt before diving in again. But this time it’s the other man who pushes him back, with unexpected strength, and Dean blinks at him in surprise. The man is looking down at Dean’s chest with an appreciative gaze, and Dean’s about to make some snarky comment about ‘liking the view’ or something, but is cut off when the man’s fingers reach up to his chest, tentatively touching the skin over his heart.
Dean looks down at the tattoo there, watching the other man’s fingers caress the lines of the star with admiration. When he feels the man’s gaze on his face again he looks back up into those blue eyes, and the man gives him a soft, secretive smile, confusing Dean for a moment. Then the man’s hands go up to his own shirt, slowly sliding it down his arms, and the mirror reveals inked lines all the way down his back… in the shape of wings.
Dean gapes a little as he takes in the man’s tattooed back. His fingers reach up of their own accord, tracing down the lines of the inked feathers, and the man arches and keens softly at the touch. The wings are beautiful. The man is beautiful. Dean suddenly wants to take him right there in front of the mirror, so he can look at those amazing wings and those captivating blue eyes at the same time.
But the sense of urgency has shifted around them now, more than just desperate need, transmuted into something more exploratory. This is just where Dean wants the man. Curious, open, and pliant.
Dean grins as he starts unbuckling the man’s pants, pushing everything off as the other man reaches down to do the same for him. Freed from the restraining leather of their clothes Dean leads them to the shower, and as they wait for the water to warm they pull each other flush, mouthing at each other’s moans as their dicks line up between their naked bodies.
Finally Dean pulls the other man under the spray, pushing him back against the shower wall and pressing up against him again. Reaching for the soap, he begins lathering down the parts of the other man’s body he can reach, but he’s loathe to separate from where their hips are connected, enjoying the water-slick slide of hardness against hardness. Not that he has a choice, when the other man wraps a leg around his waist, holding him close to soap his back in return.
Grabbing the other man’s thigh, Dean hitches the man’s leg more securely around his waist, then slides his hand down the cleft of the other man’s ass. He lets out a throaty gasp when Dean’s soap-slicked fingers press against his entrance, and enjoying his responsiveness Dean teases him a little, stroking and circling the opening a few times before finally pushing in. The other man groans loudly then, his head practically slamming into the shower wall as his eyes roll back in pleasure. And Dean keeps thrusting, flexing and searching until he finds the spot that makes the man shudder so hard, he’s sure the man would have fallen if Dean hadn’t been holding him up.
The man locks his gaze onto Dean again, something fierce in his eyes as he pants raggedly under the spray of water. Then he grabs at Dean’s free hand, and lifts it to his lips, taking Dean’s fingers into his mouth with a greedy gulp.
Dean groans as the man sucks and laves and moans around his digits, sending shivers straight down his arm to his straining cock. The image and the invitation it implies is too much for Dean, and he has to pull away altogether before he comes all over the man. It’s way too soon. Dean is supposed to be the one pushing the other man to his limits here, not the other way around.
Dean flips the man around, pressing his chest into the shower wall. For a moment he just takes in the way the water runs down the man’s heaving back, rippling over the man’s tattooed wings and creating the illusion of movement amongst the feathers - like they’re real and alive and trembling against his back. It would be so easy to slide into the other man right now. Lord knows Dean’s cock twitches at the sight like that’s all it wants to do. But instead, he takes in a few deep breaths, steadying himself as he tries to regain control.
Those wings deserve attention. Reverence. Respect. Dean leans forward, pressing his lips to the back of the other man’s neck, and mouths downward, licking out at the man’s skin and dragging his tongue-stud over the inky black lines. The man shivers under the thoroughness which Dean tongues down the feathers with, and as Dean kneels on the floor, working all the way down to the wingtips curving over the man’s hips, the man begins to shake so hard Dean has to hold him still.
But the man responds beautifully to that as well, settling almost immediately in Dean’s grip. By the time he’s mouthing at the base of the man’s spine, Dean can let go of his hips again. And when Dean reaches down to push the other man’s legs further apart, the man complies readily, releasing a breathy moan of anticipation as he juts his rear out into a better position.
Dean slowly slides his hands up the man’s thighs, cupping the man’s ass and massaging the flesh in his palms as he spreads it before him. A long, loud groan escapes the man’s throat as Dean drags his tongue across the entrance, and when he finishes the stroke the man pushes back for more. So Dean gives it to him, tongue slowly circling and teasing the man with his stud, and the man buries his face into the crook of his arm, muffling the drawn out groans the attention elicits.
Dean pulls back for a moment to smirk in satisfaction. The other man is really getting off on this, and Dean starts forming a plan for what he wants to do next. But then he notices the other man touching himself, trying to ease his arousal, and Dean quickly yanks the man’s hand away.
“Not until I say so,” he orders. The man makes a strangled noise into the crook of his arm, and he actually pounds his fist against the shower wall a few times in frustration, but he obeys. Dean smiles wide at that, and he decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer. There are so many things he wants to do to this man, he doesn’t know if he’ll have time to do it all in one night.
Standing up, he turns the shower off, pulling the man away from the wall. “Bed,” he growls into the other man’s ear, and the man just nods breathlessly, letting Dean drag him to the bedroom without bothering to dry themselves off.
Dean practically throws the man onto the bed when they get there, plastering himself on top of the other man and crushing their lips together as their erect flesh finally makes contact again. He grabs the man’s hands, pinning them above as he swallows down the man’s groans, and with a particularly forceful thrust of his hips the other man is distracted enough for Dean to click the handcuffs in place.
The man jerks his mouth away when the cuffs click around his wrists, looking up at the headboard where they’re attached with surprise in his eyes. His jaw drops a little with disbelief as he tugs futily on them a few times, testing them, but when his gaze drops back down, Dean can see it’s a pleased surprise.
“You like those,” Dean murmurs lowly, more a statement than a question, but the man nods his head in answer anyway, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that is both wry and impressed.
Dean closes his hand around the chain of the cuffs as he looks down at the man, the cool metal grounding him as his stomach flutters with anticipation, nerves, he doesn’t know. What he does know, is that the cuffs aren’t going to be enough tonight. Most of the random hook-ups Dean brings home, sure, if they’re adventurous enough. And when he needs that little something extra, the occasional trip to The Pit will do. But tonight, Dean doesn’t want to hold back. The way the other man looks beneath him, gaze heated as the cuffs stretch his beautiful body out over the length of Dean’s bed - it makes Dean want to go all out.
Dean lets go of the cuffs, leaning over to open his bedside drawer, and extracts a large roll of soft rope from its depths. The man’s eyes flash with interest when he sees it, and the response sends an answering flare of heat through Dean’s body, zinging down his spine to the root of his cock.
“You ever tried anything like this before?” he asks, breathless with that nervous-anticipation again as he waits for the man’s reply.
“Not myself,” the man answers, every hoarse crack in his voice making Dean’s dick throb in response, “But I am familiar with what you intend to do.”
This time it’s Dean’s turn to be pleasantly surprised. He hadn’t really expected that from someone he’d picked up at Queen Mab’s. For a second he wonders just how familiar someone can be without having actually tried it, but he supposes any red-blooded, porn-watching male is bound to come across a few things at some point.
What it really means, though, is that Dean will be the first to do it. The first to tie the man up and test him, to tap into all that potential he can sense, simmering in the man’s gaze.
“Okay,” Dean croaks, swallowing hard before he can speak again. “Then you just tell me if I do anything you don’t like, alright?” he says, uncoiling some of the rope’s length.
“Alright,” the man replies breathlessly. Carelessly.
Dean takes a moment to be sure, reaching out to tip the man’s chin up with his finger. “Yes?” he asks, searching the man’s face.
The man meets his gaze, eyes filled with certainty, and nods. “Yes,” the man says, his reply weighted with significance, and Dean begins to suspect the man might be more acquainted with his kind of tastes than just a passing click of a porn site.
Dean bites his lip against the smile that wants to break out across his face, keeping it down to a sly grin as he moves down over the other man’s body. Taking one of the man’s legs in his hands, he bends it up and back until the other man’s knee is almost pressed against his chest, then begins wrapping the rope around it. The man keeps perfectly still as he watches, his lips parted and panting as Dean begins tying intricate knots around the wrapping, holding the man’s leg in that bent position. Then Dean begins working on the other leg, binding it in the same manner, until the man is completely spread out before him, open and exposed.
Dean leans back, appreciating his work. The man is so perfect like this, Dean needs a moment to commit the image to memory. It doesn’t take long before the man starts squirming against his bindings, though, testing their give. But once he learns just how limited his range of movement is, he surrenders to it, dropping his head back onto the pillow and giving himself over to Dean’s control completely.
And as he does, the man’s cock visibly pulses harder, leaking out even more pre-come against his stomach.
Dean feels himself grinning wolfishly as he leans down, cradling the man’s taught cock in his hands. The man barely has time to gasp out a small “oh” at the touch, before Dean is dropping his tongue out, dragging his stud over the slit. Crying out, the man’s hips begin to buck in response, but the movement is limited by the ropes around his legs. As Dean takes the head into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue-stud over it, all the man can do is squirm against his bonds, gasping desperately above him.
Dean moves lower, dragging his stud all the way up the line of the man’s cock, before sucking it all the way down, and Dean hears the handcuffs clinking loudly over the other man’s moans as he bucks even harder. But Dean keeps his rhythm steady, tonguing at the man’s flesh with his stud with every slow drag of his lips, until finally the man stops straining altogether, wrapping his fingers around the bars of the bed’s headboard with a broken whimper. When Dean moves even lower, licking his tongue-stud up the crease of the fleshy base, mouthing and rubbing the stud all over and under, all the man can do is take it, moaning and thrashing his head wildly against Dean’s pillow.
But by now, Dean knows where the other man really wants it, where the man is the most sensitive. Dean moves down even further, and flicks his tongue across the man’s entrance. The man’s back rears up off the bed as he cries out, but Dean shows no mercy, relentlessly tonguing in and around the opening, and dragging his stud against it with every lick. Soon the man is a quivering mess, whimpering into the flesh of his own arm and mouthing his own skin like he needs to do something, anything. And the needy sounds he makes while he does it go straight to Dean’s cock where it’s rubbing into the bedsheets.
He’s so friggin’ hard. And he usually has better control. But the way this man is coming apart, so beautifully underneath him, has Dean reaching down between his own legs, wrapping his fingers around himself to stroke and tease and spur himself on, lapping at the man’s entrance even faster through his own ragged moans. And then, quite suddenly, the man cries out, coming so hard he spurts his climax all over his chest, all the way up to his neck.
Dean stares down at the man in awe. He didn’t even have to touch the man. He’d come just from Dean’s tongue inside him. And that is so ridiculously hot Dean can’t even process it.
“I’m sorry… that was… unanticipated…” the man huffs out breathlessly.
“S’ok,” Dean smiles, amazed. The man is a twitching, come-covered wreck, and it’s such a sight, Dean can’t resist licking the man up, can’t stop jacking himself as he cleans the long sprays of come off the man’s chest with his tongue, then kissing him filthy and deep so the man can taste every bit of himself in Dean’s mouth.
The other man is still trying to catch his breath when he notices Dean touching himself, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from flashing with interest, his tongue unconsciously licking at his lips. Dean smirks at that, and moves up to straddle the man, kneeing his way slowly up the man’s torso as he continues stroking himself. The man’s eyes flick up to Dean’s face, and this time when he licks his lips, it’s deliberate, and it’s an invitation.
Dean smirks again, moving up closer, hovering just over the man’s face. He angles his cock down towards the man’s mouth, and the man lifts his head, mouth opening to take it in. But instead, Dean pulls away, grinning mischievously as the man tries to follow with his lips.
The man glares at him for a moment, but his interest doesn’t seem to wane at the tease - as Dean moves in close again, the other man’s lips part once more, anticipating him. But again, instead of relenting, Dean leans forward, rubbing his cock across the side of the man’s face and making him work for it.
The man turns his head, trying to catch it in his mouth, but Dean is too quick, pulling back to rub himself onto the man’s other cheek. It’s like the man is begging for it, the way he keeps trying to take Dean into his mouth, and it turns Dean on like nothing else.
This time when the man turns again, Dean allows the man’s mouth to make contact, dragging his length down the man’s wet lips. When the head comes close to the man’s mouth he tries to take it in again, but again Dean pulls back, tormenting him. Dean is in charge here, and the man finally gets the message, his head dropping back onto the pillow and letting Dean have his way.
Dean keeps teasing the man for a while longer, tracing the other man’s lips with his leaking tip until they’re dark and glistening and beautiful. Then finally, he pushes a little way into the man’s mouth. The other man sucks at his swollen head, licking around it and into the slit with appreciative moans in his throat, and it’s all Dean can to do not shove himself all the way in. Instead he pulls out again, sliding up to let the man mouth down the spine of his length and the heavy flesh at its base.
Then suddenly, Dean feels words being mouthed into the heat of his skin.
“Do it. Fuck my face. I want you to.”
And the game is abruptly over.
Dean grabs the back of the other man’s head, sinking into the man’s mouth with a groan. And the man just swallows him, all the way down, rumbling a hungry moan around the sensitive tip of his arousal with his throat. Dean’s whole body clenches at the vibrations around his cock, the wet heat sucking around his flesh, and it takes him more than a few deep breaths before he can pull back and start thrusting. He tries to be slow, careful with every slide in and out of the man’s mouth, but the man sucks at him so insistently, moaning and gasping in air around it, that Dean can’t help but speed his pace. And the other man just takes it, handling it so effortlessly, so gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and lips dark and swollen around his pistoning length, that before long Dean wants to come right down the man’s throat.
It takes every last inch of self-control to pull away and warn the other man. But the man makes this needy sound of protest that Dean just can’t fight. He finally just lets the man drink him down, throat constricting around his head and milking out every drop as he comes and comes and comes.
Dean clings onto the headboard, breathing hard as his legs shake under him. He has just enough strength left to release the man’s handcuffs, before he collapses onto the bed, tremors still running through his body.
The other man leans up beside him, tugging at the ropes still binding his legs and finding the few strategic strings that release him entirely. Moaning in relief, he stretches out his legs, massaging his muscles for a moment before turning over and curling himself around Dean’s body.
Dean lifts his arm, resting his hand on the back of the other man’s head and tracing his fingers through the thick mess of hair there. The man practically purrs at the touch, nosing contentedly into the crook of Dean’s neck, and a smile twitches at the corner of Dean’s lips.
Thing is, by the time Dean’s caught his breath back, he still doesn’t particularly want to move anywhere, perfectly comfortable just where he is. And as his fingers leave the other man’s hair in favor of stroking down the feathered lines on his back, Dean starts thinking maybe there’s still a lot more he wants to do with this man.
“Hey angel-face, you gonna stick around?” Dean murmurs. The man raises his head, expression carefully neutral as his blue eyes search Dean’s face. Dean reaches up with his free hand, taking the other man’s chin in his fingers and holding his gaze. “Look, I don’t usually ask people to stay… But I haven’t fucked you properly yet, and I want you to be well-rested before I do.”
The man’s eyes light up at that, and the side of his mouth slowly curls up into a small smile. “I’ll stay,” he replies, “But if you'd like to tie me up again to make sure I do, I won’t complain.”
Dean huffs out a laugh at that, and he’s still smiling when the man curls around him again, settling in to sleep.
~ tbc
Dean: Holy hell angel-face, you might need a safe-word for the last part. Any ideas?
Cas: Um… “trenchcoat”?
diggler: *facepalms* … I am NOT writing that in!
.
Title: What's In A Name? [2/3] {also at AO3}
Rating: NC-17
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel, tiny appearance by Balthazar (in the role of Paris I guess?)
Genre: AU, pwp, smut.
Warnings: language, shower!kink, piercing!kink, tattoo!kink, oral, rimming, Shibari rope tying… how is this a list of warnings? But yes, there is some bondage in this chapter, to be followed by BDSM in the last chapter. So if that isn't your thing, just don't read the last chapter - each chapter was written like a oneshot with its own kind of conclusion. It's all just trashy, if not cracky smut, with very minimal plot to begin with. So it's NOT REALISTIC BDSM either. If you're picky about that kind of thing, you might want to look elsewhere as well!
Word Count: around 4,920 this part. 12,800 all up.
Summary: chapter 2 of the Halloween verse, in which all the crack is gone and only the kink remains, as Dean finally gets his hands on the mystery man he’s been thinking about all week.
A/N: I apologize for initially labeling this as a 2 part piece, but the smut starting going on for so long that even I needed a break!
Disclaimer: Supernatural ain't mine. And any similarities to Baz Luhrmann's Romeo & Juliet or Queer As Folk is... purely intentional!
Reference images for the tattoos, toys, positions etc mentioned in this fic are all indexed here at my livejournal.
~
But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun!
-- Romeo, Act II scene ii
~
Dean’s not sorry about bashing that guy’s face in. He really isn’t. Even though Sammy spent the rest of the night bitching about how he was perfectly capable of taking care of himself - and even though Dean wouldn’t admit his brother was perfectly capable - Dean knows that given the same circumstances, he’d do the exact same thing in a heartbeat.
But he still can’t get those regret-filled blue eyes out of his head. Not for the whole week. He’d gotten damn right mopey about it too. To the point that when he went to The Roadhouse for lunch one day, Ellen actually kicked him out, complaining that his mopey-face was putting off potential patrons from coming into the diner.
And Dean doesn’t do mopey, dammit. He’s always been more of a ‘grab your guns and go get em’ kind of guy. But how was he supposed to go find someone when he didn’t even have a name to start with, let alone a phone number? And when did he become the kind of person who even wanted to find one of his random hookups in the first place?!
It was just… those friggin’ eyes.
Well, there was also that face. Those lips… That voice… Those wanton moans in his ear… The way the man had trembled so responsively to every touch, uncaring of the crowd around them as he pressed himself against Dean’s body like they were the only two people in the room, grinding against Dean like his life depended on it, and latching onto Dean’s mouth like the man needed Dean’s breath to survive…
Fuck.
Okay, so maybe he had gotten a little obsessed.
Which left him with only one option, really.
So when the weekend finally comes around, Dean finds himself at Queen Mab’s again. His Halloween costume has been traded in for his usual black leather pants and black t-shirt, and the place is marginally more bearable now that the friggin’ glitter isn’t everywhere anymore, but the flashing lights and electronic dance music are still a bit too off-putting for Dean’s liking.
He’s not going anywhere though. He just leans back against the bar, slowly sipping his whisky - and it’s surprisingly easy to ignore the appraising looks and half-smiles of invitation thrown his way, shutting down the bolder offers for a drink or a dance with the reply that he’s waiting for someone - and just keeps his eyes trained on the entrance above.
Dean’s not really sure if it’s him at first. But he gets enough of a glimpse at a hard jawline, a hint of a plush mouth, the shadow of dark tousled hair - that his chest leaps a little in hope. The man walks up to the railing above and rests his hands on it for a moment, scanning the dance floor below, and Dean thinks he recognizes that lean frame underneath the long-sleeved black button down and matching leather pants
His breath speeds up in anticipation.
Then one of the spotlights from the dancefloor shines right on the man’s face, and Dean stops breathing altogether.
It’s him.
Dean’s mystery angel.
And he’s even more gorgeous now than Dean remembers.
The man doesn’t see Dean straight away, casually greeting a few people as they pass by, so Dean downs the rest of his drink, and makes his way to the stairs. Halfway up, Dean sees a blond man stop beside his angel, kissing him on both cheeks in greeting the way douchebags from Paris do. But when the blond rests his hands on the other man’s hips in too-familiar intimacy, every fibre in Dean’s body seems to possessively growl ‘Mine’.
It’s then that the angel’s gaze finally connects with his. And when the man sees Dean standing there, his eyes flare with pleased recognition, the side of his mouth slowly curving up into a smile. He murmurs something to the blond, not even looking at him, then steps away from him, coming to meet Dean at the top of the stairs. He doesn’t stop until he’s well up into Dean’s personal space, and for a moment they just look at each other, taking in the other’s features, remembering, and wanting.
“I’ve been waiting for you all night,” Dean blurts out breathlessly, not giving a second thought to how pathetic he may sound. The other man doesn’t seem to care though, leaning forward to capture Dean’s mouth in an urgent, greedy kiss. Dean groans into it, wrapping his arms around the other man’s back to pull him flush as the man reaches up to cup his face. And when they finally stop for air the man’s hands just hold him there, blue eyes roaming over his features again as they pant hotly against each other’s lips.
“I was hoping I’d see you again,” the man murmurs in that gravel-deep voice of his. Dean can’t help but grin as he leans in for another kiss, this time slow, taking more time to taste the other man’s lips and rediscover how they feel against his own.
Eventually the other man lowers his hands from Dean’s face, taking a deep breath as he leans back and re-establishes a little space between them. “I must apologize for Lucifer’s behavior last week,” the man murmurs apologetically. “My brother has always been something of a trouble-maker.”
“Lives up to his name, huh?” Dean chuckles. But it’s mostly laughter of relief. Not just for the apology, but also for finally learning the truth about the relationship between the two men. A tiny voice he’d been trying to ignore had been worried the two might have been involved or something.
The other man huffs out a laugh in response, before giving him a cautious smile. “Was your… friend… alright?” the man asks, and Dean huffs another laugh when he realizes the other man must have had the same worry.
“Yeah,” Dean grins. “My brother is tougher than he looks,” he tells the man, stressing the word ‘brother’ pointedly.
“Oh,” the other man replies, a pleased smile lighting up his face. And damn if Dean doesn’t find himself smiling stupidly back at the man.
“Listen, I know you just got here… but you wanna go someplace?” Dean asks.
The man doesn’t even pause to think, his blue eyes flashing heat as he nods in response.
~
Dean could’ve easily dragged the man to some dark corner of the back room at Queen Mab’s. He knows the other man wouldn’t have objected, not after they’d fucked each other through their pants on the middle of the dance floor last week. But Dean also knows he doesn’t want a rushed and half-clothed quickie surrounded by whatever other ‘distractions’ might be happening around them.
No, Dean wants to take his time claiming the man. Have the man spread out before him on his own bed, naked and writhing on Dean’s sheets, for only his eyes to see.
And he wants to test the man. Discover his limits, his breaking points, how to put him back together again…
This requires no distractions.
This requires tools.
As soon as they’re back at Dean’s apartment they’re pressed up against the door, gasping into each other’s mouths like drowning men and grinding into each other to ease the waiting ache that had built up on the way from Queen Mab’s… over the whole night… the entire week. When Dean actually has to shove the man away from him for air, the resulting glint in the other man’s eyes from the rough treatment just makes Dean want to forget about the need to breathe altogether, and die from the press of the other man’s mouth again.
But Dean has plans for this responsive little angel. So instead, he fists his hand into the man’s hair, holding the other man’s greedy mouth away, and presses the man into the door with the weight of his hips. Reaching up between their bodies, he brushes his thumb over the man’s shirt where the nipple ring juts out at the material, and pressed together as they are he feels every bit of the tremor that runs through the other man’s body at the touch.
Dean grins, slowly unbuttoning the man’s shirt. “I’m gonna take a shower. And you’re gonna come with me, so I can rub myself all over you while I put my fingers in you,” he commands lowly.
The man sucks in a sharp breath, his pupils blowing out even further as he nods in agreement.
Dean’s grin widens. Responsive and obedient. This is shaping up well.
Yanking the man away from the door, Dean drags him to the bathroom, not stopping until he has the other man pressed against the sink counter and they’re at each other’s mouths again. This time when the inevitable need for air resurfaces Dean doesn’t waste the moment, taking the opportunity to pull off his t-shirt before diving in again. But this time it’s the other man who pushes him back, with unexpected strength, and Dean blinks at him in surprise. The man is looking down at Dean’s chest with an appreciative gaze, and Dean’s about to make some snarky comment about ‘liking the view’ or something, but is cut off when the man’s fingers reach up to his chest, tentatively touching the skin over his heart.
Dean looks down at the tattoo there, watching the other man’s fingers caress the lines of the star with admiration. When he feels the man’s gaze on his face again he looks back up into those blue eyes, and the man gives him a soft, secretive smile, confusing Dean for a moment. Then the man’s hands go up to his own shirt, slowly sliding it down his arms, and the mirror reveals inked lines all the way down his back… in the shape of wings.
Dean gapes a little as he takes in the man’s tattooed back. His fingers reach up of their own accord, tracing down the lines of the inked feathers, and the man arches and keens softly at the touch. The wings are beautiful. The man is beautiful. Dean suddenly wants to take him right there in front of the mirror, so he can look at those amazing wings and those captivating blue eyes at the same time.
But the sense of urgency has shifted around them now, more than just desperate need, transmuted into something more exploratory. This is just where Dean wants the man. Curious, open, and pliant.
Dean grins as he starts unbuckling the man’s pants, pushing everything off as the other man reaches down to do the same for him. Freed from the restraining leather of their clothes Dean leads them to the shower, and as they wait for the water to warm they pull each other flush, mouthing at each other’s moans as their dicks line up between their naked bodies.
Finally Dean pulls the other man under the spray, pushing him back against the shower wall and pressing up against him again. Reaching for the soap, he begins lathering down the parts of the other man’s body he can reach, but he’s loathe to separate from where their hips are connected, enjoying the water-slick slide of hardness against hardness. Not that he has a choice, when the other man wraps a leg around his waist, holding him close to soap his back in return.
Grabbing the other man’s thigh, Dean hitches the man’s leg more securely around his waist, then slides his hand down the cleft of the other man’s ass. He lets out a throaty gasp when Dean’s soap-slicked fingers press against his entrance, and enjoying his responsiveness Dean teases him a little, stroking and circling the opening a few times before finally pushing in. The other man groans loudly then, his head practically slamming into the shower wall as his eyes roll back in pleasure. And Dean keeps thrusting, flexing and searching until he finds the spot that makes the man shudder so hard, he’s sure the man would have fallen if Dean hadn’t been holding him up.
The man locks his gaze onto Dean again, something fierce in his eyes as he pants raggedly under the spray of water. Then he grabs at Dean’s free hand, and lifts it to his lips, taking Dean’s fingers into his mouth with a greedy gulp.
Dean groans as the man sucks and laves and moans around his digits, sending shivers straight down his arm to his straining cock. The image and the invitation it implies is too much for Dean, and he has to pull away altogether before he comes all over the man. It’s way too soon. Dean is supposed to be the one pushing the other man to his limits here, not the other way around.
Dean flips the man around, pressing his chest into the shower wall. For a moment he just takes in the way the water runs down the man’s heaving back, rippling over the man’s tattooed wings and creating the illusion of movement amongst the feathers - like they’re real and alive and trembling against his back. It would be so easy to slide into the other man right now. Lord knows Dean’s cock twitches at the sight like that’s all it wants to do. But instead, he takes in a few deep breaths, steadying himself as he tries to regain control.
Those wings deserve attention. Reverence. Respect. Dean leans forward, pressing his lips to the back of the other man’s neck, and mouths downward, licking out at the man’s skin and dragging his tongue-stud over the inky black lines. The man shivers under the thoroughness which Dean tongues down the feathers with, and as Dean kneels on the floor, working all the way down to the wingtips curving over the man’s hips, the man begins to shake so hard Dean has to hold him still.
But the man responds beautifully to that as well, settling almost immediately in Dean’s grip. By the time he’s mouthing at the base of the man’s spine, Dean can let go of his hips again. And when Dean reaches down to push the other man’s legs further apart, the man complies readily, releasing a breathy moan of anticipation as he juts his rear out into a better position.
Dean slowly slides his hands up the man’s thighs, cupping the man’s ass and massaging the flesh in his palms as he spreads it before him. A long, loud groan escapes the man’s throat as Dean drags his tongue across the entrance, and when he finishes the stroke the man pushes back for more. So Dean gives it to him, tongue slowly circling and teasing the man with his stud, and the man buries his face into the crook of his arm, muffling the drawn out groans the attention elicits.
Dean pulls back for a moment to smirk in satisfaction. The other man is really getting off on this, and Dean starts forming a plan for what he wants to do next. But then he notices the other man touching himself, trying to ease his arousal, and Dean quickly yanks the man’s hand away.
“Not until I say so,” he orders. The man makes a strangled noise into the crook of his arm, and he actually pounds his fist against the shower wall a few times in frustration, but he obeys. Dean smiles wide at that, and he decides he doesn’t want to wait any longer. There are so many things he wants to do to this man, he doesn’t know if he’ll have time to do it all in one night.
Standing up, he turns the shower off, pulling the man away from the wall. “Bed,” he growls into the other man’s ear, and the man just nods breathlessly, letting Dean drag him to the bedroom without bothering to dry themselves off.
Dean practically throws the man onto the bed when they get there, plastering himself on top of the other man and crushing their lips together as their erect flesh finally makes contact again. He grabs the man’s hands, pinning them above as he swallows down the man’s groans, and with a particularly forceful thrust of his hips the other man is distracted enough for Dean to click the handcuffs in place.
The man jerks his mouth away when the cuffs click around his wrists, looking up at the headboard where they’re attached with surprise in his eyes. His jaw drops a little with disbelief as he tugs futily on them a few times, testing them, but when his gaze drops back down, Dean can see it’s a pleased surprise.
“You like those,” Dean murmurs lowly, more a statement than a question, but the man nods his head in answer anyway, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a way that is both wry and impressed.
Dean closes his hand around the chain of the cuffs as he looks down at the man, the cool metal grounding him as his stomach flutters with anticipation, nerves, he doesn’t know. What he does know, is that the cuffs aren’t going to be enough tonight. Most of the random hook-ups Dean brings home, sure, if they’re adventurous enough. And when he needs that little something extra, the occasional trip to The Pit will do. But tonight, Dean doesn’t want to hold back. The way the other man looks beneath him, gaze heated as the cuffs stretch his beautiful body out over the length of Dean’s bed - it makes Dean want to go all out.
Dean lets go of the cuffs, leaning over to open his bedside drawer, and extracts a large roll of soft rope from its depths. The man’s eyes flash with interest when he sees it, and the response sends an answering flare of heat through Dean’s body, zinging down his spine to the root of his cock.
“You ever tried anything like this before?” he asks, breathless with that nervous-anticipation again as he waits for the man’s reply.
“Not myself,” the man answers, every hoarse crack in his voice making Dean’s dick throb in response, “But I am familiar with what you intend to do.”
This time it’s Dean’s turn to be pleasantly surprised. He hadn’t really expected that from someone he’d picked up at Queen Mab’s. For a second he wonders just how familiar someone can be without having actually tried it, but he supposes any red-blooded, porn-watching male is bound to come across a few things at some point.
What it really means, though, is that Dean will be the first to do it. The first to tie the man up and test him, to tap into all that potential he can sense, simmering in the man’s gaze.
“Okay,” Dean croaks, swallowing hard before he can speak again. “Then you just tell me if I do anything you don’t like, alright?” he says, uncoiling some of the rope’s length.
“Alright,” the man replies breathlessly. Carelessly.
Dean takes a moment to be sure, reaching out to tip the man’s chin up with his finger. “Yes?” he asks, searching the man’s face.
The man meets his gaze, eyes filled with certainty, and nods. “Yes,” the man says, his reply weighted with significance, and Dean begins to suspect the man might be more acquainted with his kind of tastes than just a passing click of a porn site.
Dean bites his lip against the smile that wants to break out across his face, keeping it down to a sly grin as he moves down over the other man’s body. Taking one of the man’s legs in his hands, he bends it up and back until the other man’s knee is almost pressed against his chest, then begins wrapping the rope around it. The man keeps perfectly still as he watches, his lips parted and panting as Dean begins tying intricate knots around the wrapping, holding the man’s leg in that bent position. Then Dean begins working on the other leg, binding it in the same manner, until the man is completely spread out before him, open and exposed.
Dean leans back, appreciating his work. The man is so perfect like this, Dean needs a moment to commit the image to memory. It doesn’t take long before the man starts squirming against his bindings, though, testing their give. But once he learns just how limited his range of movement is, he surrenders to it, dropping his head back onto the pillow and giving himself over to Dean’s control completely.
And as he does, the man’s cock visibly pulses harder, leaking out even more pre-come against his stomach.
Dean feels himself grinning wolfishly as he leans down, cradling the man’s taught cock in his hands. The man barely has time to gasp out a small “oh” at the touch, before Dean is dropping his tongue out, dragging his stud over the slit. Crying out, the man’s hips begin to buck in response, but the movement is limited by the ropes around his legs. As Dean takes the head into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue-stud over it, all the man can do is squirm against his bonds, gasping desperately above him.
Dean moves lower, dragging his stud all the way up the line of the man’s cock, before sucking it all the way down, and Dean hears the handcuffs clinking loudly over the other man’s moans as he bucks even harder. But Dean keeps his rhythm steady, tonguing at the man’s flesh with his stud with every slow drag of his lips, until finally the man stops straining altogether, wrapping his fingers around the bars of the bed’s headboard with a broken whimper. When Dean moves even lower, licking his tongue-stud up the crease of the fleshy base, mouthing and rubbing the stud all over and under, all the man can do is take it, moaning and thrashing his head wildly against Dean’s pillow.
But by now, Dean knows where the other man really wants it, where the man is the most sensitive. Dean moves down even further, and flicks his tongue across the man’s entrance. The man’s back rears up off the bed as he cries out, but Dean shows no mercy, relentlessly tonguing in and around the opening, and dragging his stud against it with every lick. Soon the man is a quivering mess, whimpering into the flesh of his own arm and mouthing his own skin like he needs to do something, anything. And the needy sounds he makes while he does it go straight to Dean’s cock where it’s rubbing into the bedsheets.
He’s so friggin’ hard. And he usually has better control. But the way this man is coming apart, so beautifully underneath him, has Dean reaching down between his own legs, wrapping his fingers around himself to stroke and tease and spur himself on, lapping at the man’s entrance even faster through his own ragged moans. And then, quite suddenly, the man cries out, coming so hard he spurts his climax all over his chest, all the way up to his neck.
Dean stares down at the man in awe. He didn’t even have to touch the man. He’d come just from Dean’s tongue inside him. And that is so ridiculously hot Dean can’t even process it.
“I’m sorry… that was… unanticipated…” the man huffs out breathlessly.
“S’ok,” Dean smiles, amazed. The man is a twitching, come-covered wreck, and it’s such a sight, Dean can’t resist licking the man up, can’t stop jacking himself as he cleans the long sprays of come off the man’s chest with his tongue, then kissing him filthy and deep so the man can taste every bit of himself in Dean’s mouth.
The other man is still trying to catch his breath when he notices Dean touching himself, but it doesn’t stop his eyes from flashing with interest, his tongue unconsciously licking at his lips. Dean smirks at that, and moves up to straddle the man, kneeing his way slowly up the man’s torso as he continues stroking himself. The man’s eyes flick up to Dean’s face, and this time when he licks his lips, it’s deliberate, and it’s an invitation.
Dean smirks again, moving up closer, hovering just over the man’s face. He angles his cock down towards the man’s mouth, and the man lifts his head, mouth opening to take it in. But instead, Dean pulls away, grinning mischievously as the man tries to follow with his lips.
The man glares at him for a moment, but his interest doesn’t seem to wane at the tease - as Dean moves in close again, the other man’s lips part once more, anticipating him. But again, instead of relenting, Dean leans forward, rubbing his cock across the side of the man’s face and making him work for it.
The man turns his head, trying to catch it in his mouth, but Dean is too quick, pulling back to rub himself onto the man’s other cheek. It’s like the man is begging for it, the way he keeps trying to take Dean into his mouth, and it turns Dean on like nothing else.
This time when the man turns again, Dean allows the man’s mouth to make contact, dragging his length down the man’s wet lips. When the head comes close to the man’s mouth he tries to take it in again, but again Dean pulls back, tormenting him. Dean is in charge here, and the man finally gets the message, his head dropping back onto the pillow and letting Dean have his way.
Dean keeps teasing the man for a while longer, tracing the other man’s lips with his leaking tip until they’re dark and glistening and beautiful. Then finally, he pushes a little way into the man’s mouth. The other man sucks at his swollen head, licking around it and into the slit with appreciative moans in his throat, and it’s all Dean can to do not shove himself all the way in. Instead he pulls out again, sliding up to let the man mouth down the spine of his length and the heavy flesh at its base.
Then suddenly, Dean feels words being mouthed into the heat of his skin.
“Do it. Fuck my face. I want you to.”
And the game is abruptly over.
Dean grabs the back of the other man’s head, sinking into the man’s mouth with a groan. And the man just swallows him, all the way down, rumbling a hungry moan around the sensitive tip of his arousal with his throat. Dean’s whole body clenches at the vibrations around his cock, the wet heat sucking around his flesh, and it takes him more than a few deep breaths before he can pull back and start thrusting. He tries to be slow, careful with every slide in and out of the man’s mouth, but the man sucks at him so insistently, moaning and gasping in air around it, that Dean can’t help but speed his pace. And the other man just takes it, handling it so effortlessly, so gorgeous with his cheeks flushed and lips dark and swollen around his pistoning length, that before long Dean wants to come right down the man’s throat.
It takes every last inch of self-control to pull away and warn the other man. But the man makes this needy sound of protest that Dean just can’t fight. He finally just lets the man drink him down, throat constricting around his head and milking out every drop as he comes and comes and comes.
Dean clings onto the headboard, breathing hard as his legs shake under him. He has just enough strength left to release the man’s handcuffs, before he collapses onto the bed, tremors still running through his body.
The other man leans up beside him, tugging at the ropes still binding his legs and finding the few strategic strings that release him entirely. Moaning in relief, he stretches out his legs, massaging his muscles for a moment before turning over and curling himself around Dean’s body.
Dean lifts his arm, resting his hand on the back of the other man’s head and tracing his fingers through the thick mess of hair there. The man practically purrs at the touch, nosing contentedly into the crook of Dean’s neck, and a smile twitches at the corner of Dean’s lips.
Thing is, by the time Dean’s caught his breath back, he still doesn’t particularly want to move anywhere, perfectly comfortable just where he is. And as his fingers leave the other man’s hair in favor of stroking down the feathered lines on his back, Dean starts thinking maybe there’s still a lot more he wants to do with this man.
“Hey angel-face, you gonna stick around?” Dean murmurs. The man raises his head, expression carefully neutral as his blue eyes search Dean’s face. Dean reaches up with his free hand, taking the other man’s chin in his fingers and holding his gaze. “Look, I don’t usually ask people to stay… But I haven’t fucked you properly yet, and I want you to be well-rested before I do.”
The man’s eyes light up at that, and the side of his mouth slowly curls up into a small smile. “I’ll stay,” he replies, “But if you'd like to tie me up again to make sure I do, I won’t complain.”
Dean huffs out a laugh at that, and he’s still smiling when the man curls around him again, settling in to sleep.
~ tbc
Dean: Holy hell angel-face, you might need a safe-word for the last part. Any ideas?
Cas: Um… “trenchcoat”?
diggler: *facepalms* … I am NOT writing that in!
.