Fic: Cernunnos- 2/2

[castielssock]

[ Part 1]

Dean was breaking apart. His blood was hot, broiling underneath skin that suddenly felt too waxen, too close.

He needed to peel it off, layer by layer, to tear at it if he had to, but he couldn't move, could only endure as wave after wave of this... scent slammed into him, clutching and slashing at his flesh, demanding and greedy, refusing to be ignored.

Dean's spine tingled and prickled with something eager enough to feel like adrenaline but more than aggressive enough for him to think of testosterone, but all of it gone into overdrive, gone nuclear. He couldn't concentrate, couldn't hear or think, even as the small part of him that was still himself screamed itself raw trying to hold onto reality.

Even that part was fading though, quickly eroding under the building tattoo in his head, a constant rhythm that provided a backtrack to the flayed, static, foreign thoughts in his mind, and the further he was dragged down into it, the louder, clearer those words became. Heatheatmineclaim.

“That's it, little breeder,” the creature was saying, its voice a soft murmur, everywhere at once, sticking to his skin and confusing his nerves.

“You're feeling it now, aren't you?”

It was Dean's turn not to answer now, but he couldn't. The blood in his body surged, entangled itself with the haze of his mind and overwhelmed him, took him hostage. It pumped and pulsed and drowned him, circling him like prey while his body quaked under the force of it, filling out downwards in ways he never expected or wanted and what was happening to him?

“You're going to help us leave this prison. The two of you.” It smiled. “What luck, to find such pretty little saviours.”

Dean thought that maybe it was saying more then, maybe telling him what this was, what they were doing, but its words were deranged anyway and Dean just... didn't fucking care anymore.

He didn't want to hear the words, just wanted... wanted something, and it was like a concealed itch, he couldn't quite reach, couldn't scratch, and it was driving him crazy.

He knew he wanted to take that something, to possess it so much it panged like starvation inside of him, but he had no fucking idea what the 'something' was, or how he could get it.

The terrible thing was, he didn't have to wonder. The creatures were there, all around him, breathing and shifting like flesh walls keeping him locked inside this room, and then they were leading him forward, guiding hands pressing him against Castiel's exposed backside.

But Castiel had them beat, the delirious angel moaning at the contact, instantly, mindlessly, rolling his ass back against Dean's groin and that was fucking it.

Dean tore forward, so sudden and furious, a force so entirely unnatural that it would have frightened him at any other time, but so strong that the ropes snapped free of whatever was holding them taut and Dean's hands could move again. The things surrounding them made no move to re-restrain him, but Dean had stopped thinking about them entirely.

Right now, he could only think about claiming

He growled, so vicious and primal he'd have never have recognised the sound as having come from himself if he'd had the presence of mind to consider it, but he didn't.

Instead, he grabbed Castiel's shivering, mewling form by the hips and dragged him down, brutal and splitting onto Dean's cock like it was all he could ever possibly think to do, watching how Castiel snapped back and screamed with it.

In that moment, it was as though there had been no other reason for his entire existence than to go through all the necessary paths and trials that had brought him here, that had taken him to this instance where he was buried balls deep in Cas, and burning with an absurd, irrational joy like he'd found home again, and it was fucking maddening.

Dean groaned out, a whine of ruined appreciation on his lips, and an awed, surprised part of him registered wet, while an even smaller part of him wanted to scream and puke and fight, but it was all drowned out by the part of him that cried with a gratified yes.

“Feels good, doesn't it?” the bastard that put them here was saying, but Dean's mind was just a scrambled mess of agreement, strings of yesyesyes linked together aimlessly, because it did.

Castiel was so hot, so tight and perfect, so fucking wet around him and Dean thought he could die from just the feeling of it, thought he could die if he didn't get more.

“It's okay, Dean, let yourself go," the demon encouraging, sounding positively fucking gleeful, "Let yourself breed your bitch like you want to. You can have him”

Dean trembled, and his hips drove forward, pulled back for barely a second before he was fucking furiously back into Castiel's ass again, hearing the angel howl out under him, but warming Cas up, giving him adjustment time was just not an option. He couldn't breathe, couldn't pause, could only keep going, thrusting deep and constant, without logic or thought or sense. Just pure need.

His throat and chest tightened with the urge for air, animal grunts and sounds leaving his lax mouth, and he was breaking open fast. His nails scraped rough and ragged over Castiel's back, raw little lines following them, but Castiel just took it, just moaned and pushed back against him, muscles tightening and Dean felt himself give in to the truth of the creature's words, felt that primitive part of him snarl
with excitement and satisfaction, because yes. This was his bitch, his mate, hishishis.

He wasn't the only one that seemed satisfied with that, either.

“I knew you were the ones. You're going to make us lots of little Nephilim,” the leader explained, circling them with appraising eyes and a smile in the informative words Dean couldn't care less about right then.

“Breed an army for us. It only took our old Leviathan friends one helpful little angel to crack their way through to Earth. Imagine what we could do with a few dozen?”

That stuttered something in Dean, stabbed deep enough through the haze that it pummeled into him like a dangerous, fatal blow to his head, brought some amount of awareness with it.

He didn't know if it was the mention of the Leviathan, or if it was how things were starting to click into place, but Dean reeled back, a little, even as his hips continued to pound forward, to fuck into Castiel's body; he couldn't ignore this.

“Tell me, angel, did the Nephilim really grow to be giants?” it asked Castiel, but only received a moan and an angry twitch of hips at Dean's slightly slowed rhythm in response, and the demon laughed again, curling its fingers over Castiel's hair, a mocking kind of affection spread out over its face.

Dean wanted to cram it full of salt rounds.

“You s-son of a bitch,” he panted, but it was a weak rebellion and he was elevated back onto those puppet strings as soon as it had left his mouth, the thick fog beating him back down again, sinking its teeth in with vengeance now, and Dean practically roared, knees buckling under the weight of it.

The creature may have been laughing, crowing out in victory, but Dean couldn't hear. Couldn't register anything beyond the booming of his own blood.

All he wanted again was more, faster, closer, tighter, to bury himself deeper and rut into the exposed open body under him until it was bursting with cock and come and whatever else Dean wanted to put inside of it, because the body underneath him was his and he'd mark it up from the inside out just to prove it.

Castiel's arms flexed in their bondage, his head lolling backwards and exposing his neck and Dean growled his approval at the clear sign of submission, his teeth latching on and biting down hard, possessiveness scorching like a brand in his gut. He couldn't wait to see the pretty, purple blotches he'd leave behind scattered out over all that pale skin. Castiel would look so good in his ownership.

“That's it, there's a good girl,” it was practically crooning now, rubbing Castiel's scalp in caresses that were too degrading to be gentle.

“Is she tightening her pussy for you? I bet she is, bet that slutty little hole is just desperate to milk all that come right out of you.”

Dean moaned, couldn't help it, because it seemed that his ears worked as long as they were picking up filthy words, and fuck, but Cas was tightening around him, was twitching and clenching like Dean's cock was the best thing in the world, clamping down and taking it like a professional whore, and he was just so fucking good, Dean could have wept.

“Poor little angel can't even help it,” the demon carried on, probably talking to itself at this point, sounding almost curious, “Look how badly her body wants it. Wants to be bred so full and swollen, just like a good little bitch.”

The words were boiling, searing, but they were only ammunition enough to bring about a fresh wave of desire rolling through Dean like something tangible, and he snarled with it, nothing human in the noise at all.

It occurred to him later that the creature's tone wasn't even dirty, wasn't meant to arouse. It was mocking and amused, and maybe just a little fascinated, but Dean knew it couldn't give a flying fuck about his pleasure or even its own, just wanted to document and humiliate.

That might have seemed fruitless for all Dean cared about it right then, for all that Cas could ever care about those words; about obscenities meant to sting and inflict damage, but later when he remembered again, when things came rushing back to him, the shame was like vertigo and no amount of Winchester bravado was quite enough to mask it.

But that was probably the creature's design the whole time. It seemed to enjoy Dean's torment when he was sober enough to process it even more so than when he was lust-drunk.

They were Lilu demons-these creatures-Dean would come to learn later, when Cas had regained enough of reality to inform him so, ancient predecessors to the incubi. According to Castiel, this whole thing matched their M.O near perfectly. The Lilu loved to inflict humiliation, loved breaking their victims, and most importantly, loved to focus on child-rearing. If Dean had known that at the time though, he still wasn't sure he'd have been able to stop.

“You want it too, don't you?" it carried on, relentless, "Want to watch this pretty little angel whore split herself wide and open, getting all knocked up on your cock like a good slut should, getting nice and pregnant and round for us.”

He did, he did, God help him, even if his mind didn't understand what they meant, the words pierced right into him, injected him with bruised endorphins and greedy chemicals and his body pulsed with rightness, told him that this was exactly what they were meant for, that Castiel was made to bend over for him, to stay put while Dean bred him full with his child.

It wasn't possible, it shouldn't have been possible, but Dean didn't care about that right then, didn't give a fuck about their biology or their condition or whatever the fuck else, he was going to fuck Castiel so good it left him open and wet and fucking pregnant in the end.

That irrational, animal part of Dean couldn't wait to see Cas like that; belly all big and rounded, sore little tits swollen and leaking milk for all the babies Dean had fucked into him. His cock throbbed, fucking hurt with want for it, hips pounding into the tight, dripping hole, and Dean could feel it clench down around him like it wanted everything that was being offered, like Castiel knew he was a bitch and craved everything that came with it, was hungry to be bred.

“That's it, Dean-o, keep it up.” the demon praised him, and something quiet and small in Dean wished it had the strength left to tell it to go to Hell.

“Breed her cunt up. It'll be good practice. You're going to be spending a lot of time in that pussy, keeping it stuffed full and pregnant. Won't that be nice?”

The rest of Dean, though, the parts that weren't his own (or at least that's what he forced himself to believe later, because anything else would be too heartbreaking, too shattering to accept) roared with delight at the idea, at the promise of more of this, more of Castiel, and he could feel it everywhere in his body, spreading without compromise.

The hairs on his skin stood up in thrills, the blood-where it wasn't pooled at his groin-rushed through him like pinpricks and his nerves sizzled with desire, the concoction in his mind running a little hotter.

He wanted, he wanted so much he couldn't stand it, couldn't breathe. His chest hurt from trying to drag in breaths that were second-priority to everything else, and his muscles burned from the exertion of the constant, ruthless fucking, but he just couldn't stop.

Dean wasn't holding anything back now, couldn't dream to, his thrusts urgent and frenzied, hips snapping forward on auto-pilot, fingers gripping tight, nails digging in until they clawed down and tore at skin in Dean's impatience to pull Castiel back onto his cock quicker, harder, to fucking ruin him.

“D-Dean.”

It was distant and quiet, muffled by the leather that Castiel's mouth was pressed against, but Dean could just about make it out, could hear the quiver in Castiel's voice, the plea and the fear that told him Castiel was just enough himself for this to matter.

Those little parts of Dean reared up and became a little more solid, raced to fling themselves to the forefront of his mind, if only for a few seconds, if only to reach Castiel, to comfort with anything he could spare.

“God, f-fuck, Cas-” Dean gasped, his head pounding with the effort it took just to speak, and he wished he could stop, but his hips, his legs, his cock, didn't care about his fleeting wishes. They only wanted gratification, only wanted what the demon had said. Wanted to fuck, to take, to own.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so fucking-”

Castiel stole his words and his air at the same time, whining high-pitched and begging, a fresh wave of his slick leaking out over Dean's cock like an enticement he couldn't hope to resist.

“B-Breed... Breed me.”

Dean was pretty much fucked after that point.

Whatever he'd managed to drag back of himself was overwhelmed by that, suffocated in the fury of needwantmatebitchyes that seized him suddenly, Castiel's stammered pleas like liquid fire pouring over his body, igniting him inch by inch. He'd had his last bout of defiance, exhausted any fight left in him, and nothing could stop this now. They were lost.

Dean's hands grabbed Castiel by his slender hips and held him tight and still against Dean's groin, and then he was gone; slamming into Castiel's wet little hole-his fucking cunt, God-hips forcing cruelly into his bitch in complete abandon, fingers dragging Castiel back like he was little more than a toy to be used as rough hands pawed at him like they needed to prove to Castiel, to the world just who owned him. Just who could make an Angel of the Lord moan and writhe like a slut on their cock, could make him beg and cry out for more.

He needed to see proof of it, to see marks and evidence littered all over Castiel's vessel, because it might have been these sons of bitches that were making them do this, but Castiel belonged to no one but himself, and Dean wasn't about to allow anyone to think otherwise.

Even later, he couldn't tell if that was what the demons had done to him, of if it was something worse. If it was just Dean.

Castiel was obscene under him, singing out mewled songs of desperate pleasure, all wild and unhinged and beautiful, like every filthy fantasy Dean had never allowed himself to have, and it was all his, belonged to him.

Castiel howled with Dean's increased vigour, neck stretched long and perfect, eyes closed in pleasured rapture and utter ruin as he got what he'd begged for. Quietly, Dean would later admit to himself how sorry he was that this was how he got to see Castiel like that for the first time.

It could have been different, been so much better, but the dreams he'd had of anything else were already melted, in shreds around them, hanging like entrails, and Dean might've wanted to weep for it another time. But not now.

“Yes, there's a good bitch, getting ready to take that knot, letting him knock your pussy up like a good girl.”

The demon was still bleating on in the background, but it had stopped being important, stopped making any sense whatsoever, so Dean stopped listening, and when it happened, it punched him without warning in the stomach, sudden and hard, and the world around him snapped in two.

Dean's teeth were on Castiel's neck again, his cock driving deep into Castiel's depths, two, three more times before he was coming, impossible and earth shattering like a freight train had steamrollered into him and left him raw and obliterated afterwards, waves of his seed marking Castiel's insides white.

Barely-English growls and curses poured from his lips in an aggressive, babbling loop and he clung hard to Castiel, finding a kind of anchor in him as Dean's soul threatened to leave his body he was floating so high on this unstable mixture of familiar and alien sensation.

He shuddered and tensed like a tightly drawn violin string in excruciating pleasure, and then something was swelling, something new and terrifying. Dean screamed with it, his voice quickly joined by Castiel's shouts and then the angel was quivering, rippling around him as he came, his hot, rosy little pussy gushing with wetness around Dean's swollen-too swollen-cock, muscles milking him hungrily.

Dean gasped and snarled and cried with it, his body on meltdown with ecstasy and confusion as things that weren't supposed to shift shifted, things that weren't supposed to grow grew, and Castiel just kept squeezing, kept taking all of him like he was fucking made for it.

Another wave of pleasure barraged into Dean like a stampede, and for all he could tell, he was coming impossibly all over again, adding to the thick mess already inside Castiel, sensations he should never have known assaulting every one of his senses.

And that was, finally, enough for him to black out.

◊ ◊ ◊

When he came to again, Dean's face was buried against the sweat-damp skin of Castiel's neck, his body still thrumming amidst the sensory overload; nerves and flesh left polarised and tingling with electricity, endorphins flowing in riots without qualm in his bloodstream.

Dean groaned against Castiel's form, the stupor-fumes in his skull swirling and spinning still, but he could hear himself think now, at least, and that had to mean something good, right?

He heard Castiel's answering moan, and shame and guilt peaked out past the lingering clouds and glared right into his core and, fuck, what had he done? Dean tried to pull back, tried to get away, to... God, to just do something, but as he shifted, he felt a sore, unnatural tug at his groin, and Castiel let out a responding pained sound, his hands curling into white-knuckled fists in his cuffs.

“Don't-” Castiel croaked, his face turning in towards the leather, and Dean found himself instantly complying,
staring with wide eyes down at where they were seemingly locked together, unnerved worry painted over shocked, tired features.

Castiel had his eyes closed, and Dean could hear his breathing was still ragged. He wondered how long he'd been out for. It couldn't have been all that long, but his wrists were bound once more, and when he looked around the cave again, he couldn't see the creatures for the darkness.

He almost snorted at the idea that they'd stepped out to give the two of them some privacy to talk. But God, what could he say? Where the fuck did he start?

Dean sighed, and it was a pathetic, miserable thing even to his own ears.

“Cas, I-”

Another wave of pleasure rolled through him and Dean's groan cut off his failing words, his body overflowing with blinding sensation as he involuntarily released another load of come into Castiel's ass. From the way Castiel tightened around him and let out a softened moan, it was pretty obvious that he was still right there with Dean as well.

Dean slumped against him again, his forehead resting on Castiel's shoulder as the aftershocks claimed him, the... whatever the fuck it was holding them together showing no signs of receding yet. They'd be here a while.

Dean found out later exactly what it was, exactly what the Lilu had done, how they'd taken him and Cas and moulded and marked up their bodies like fucking tools to meet their own fucked-up ends.

He'd already guessed the truth by the time Castiel had explained that Dean's cock was now in possession of a fully-functional, biological knot, but it was the angel's quiet and almost apologetic admission of his belief that he'd developed a goddamn womb alongside these... heats of his that had Dean shutting off and slamming up steel walls once more.

What that meant, what that would mean for the two of them was something too grotesque, too gut-wrenching to consider, and nothing was as it seemed in purgatory, right? It wasn't real. It couldn't possibly be.

But it wasn't time to consider all of this yet. Dean couldn't see past his confusion to even ask these questions. He just concentrated on breathing, on trying not to move, on finding a way to come down.

“We're going to get out of here,” Castiel said suddenly, solemn and surprisingly clear-sounding given all that had happened-was still happening-but what really grabbed Dean's attention was how sharp the words were, like furious razor blades Castiel wanted to hurl at their captors.

Hearing the surety in his voice, something in Dean somehow relaxed minutely, a slither of worry easing just a little, just with knowing that Castiel was just as angry, as hell-bent on getting out of here, and getting revenge, as Dean was.

And just like that, Dean felt it; the only emotion loud enough to beat out the disorientating cacophony within his body. Determination.

Between the two of them, they were some seriously stubborn sons of bitches too. Dean smiled, a sad, tiny thing, and nodded tiredly against Castiel's sweat-soaked hair.

“Yeah. Yeah we will.”

He let out a breath and tested the give of his restraints once more, resolutely ignoring where he was still buried and tied-off balls deep in the body underneath him. He had something more important to focus on now, something to fight for, and it had planted hate and thirsty anger like seeds deep within him, fury already taking root. Castiel was right, they were gonna get out of this place.

And they were going to leave it bloody and barren behind them.

◊ ◊ ◊

A/N: That's it for now, but I'm thinking about writing a sequel about the rest of the time they spend in captive, because it might be fun to explore more "breeding sessions", and to actually write knocked up!Cas because unf. And then maybe see them escape/get rescued? But I dunno yet. What do you guys think?

Also, since it's a kinkmeme fill, anon is on and I.P logging is off. :)