Stockholm Syndrome ch. 4/?
Title: Stockholm Syndrome
Author: earth_heart
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: R for this chapter
Genre: Dark!fic, kidnapping, demons and angels
Warnings: Slight abuse, weakened angel, D/s themes
Disclaimer: Supernatural and its characters do not belong to me, they belong to Eric Kripke and the CW/WB. I make no profit from this story.
Summary: Stockholm Syndrome: -noun Psychiatry. an emotional attachment to a captor formed by a hostage as a result of continuous stress, dependence, and a need to cooperate for survival. In which Dean is a demon who kidnaps the angel Castiel because he wants him, and Castiel comes to love Dean because he can’t remember anything but the demon.
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Chapter 4: Dream a little dream of him
The angel moaned beneath him, his head tilted back. When Dean licked his way down Castiel’s throat, the Seraphim’s breath hitched. He responded so prettily to the demon, arching into Dean’s hands as he stroked them over the creature’s sides and across his stomach.
“Do you want this, Cas?” Dean whispered, his voice roughened by arousal as he leaned up to lick his angel’s ear, whispering the words to him. “Do you?”
“Yes. Yes, please, Dean.” Castiel moaned, opening his eyes to stare up at Dean. He had the most gorgeous flush on his cheeks, and his eyes were wide and full of want and adoration. “Please, Dean!”
Growling, Dean lightly bit his angel’s collarbone, sucking the hurt and soothing it with his tongue. He slid one arm under Castiel’s leg, shifting it up and offering up more of the naked angel for him to see. Castiel whined when their groins rolled together, and Dean hissed.
“DEAN!”
Sitting bolt upright, Dean looked around, blinking groggily. Sam was standing at the door, his arms crossed as he arched an eyebrow at the older demon.
A dream; just a dream. Dean growled silently, swinging himself out of bed. He arched his own eyebrow back at his brother. “This had better be damn good, Sammy. It’s the middle of the fucking night.”
“You’re wanted.” was Sam’s reply. Blinking, Dean turned on the lights and got a better look at his brother. Sammy was bruised, and he had some nasty cuts on his arms and chest. His brother’s tail was injured as well, and drooped behind him instead of coiling and lashing like it always did when he was angry.
“Jesus fuck, Sam. What the Hell happened to you?” Dean demanded, moving forward quickly to get a better look at his little brother. He could already see the wounds healing, but that wasn’t the point. Someone or something had attacked his brother, and they would pay.
“I ran into angels, that’s what the Hell happened to me.” Sam replied tersely, standing still so that Dean could look him over. “Three of them. Azazel, Ruby and I were out making deals and calling in one ones already due, and they surprised us.”
“Three angels? Fucking Hell. How’d you get away?” He was impressed.
“Well, Azazel killed two of them, and then we captured the third one. He’s down in Alistair’s kingdom, which is why I came to get you. Alistair wants you to help him.” By then, Sammy was already healed and back to normal, grinning at Dean and waggling his eyebrows. “Lucky you, man. Get to torture and angel!”
Thoughts of Castiel trickled through his mind, and Dean paused for a moment. But no, Castiel was his angel. This one was just some stranger who had tried to hurt his brother, and that shit just would not fly.
“Dean?” Sam’s voice was concerned as he looked down at him. Shaking himself off mentally, Dean grinned up at the taller demon and motioned for him to lead the way. This angel was going to regret ever even looking at his Sammy.
The angel was strung out, strapped to the Rack with meat hooks stuck through his wings to keep them spread. Bronze blood trickled from around the wounds, and Dean smirked at the sight. So, that’s what color Archangels bled. Alistair stood in front of the celestial being, a smile on his face as he tapped the blunt side of his razor against his chin.
“My, my, so many possibilities.” the torturer hummed, turning to look at Dean as he came closer. Dean grinned at his teacher, seeing the eagerness in Alistair’s milky white eyes before they both turned back to look at the angel.
“Mind if I watch? Azazel said I could.” Sam called from where he was leaning against the rough, brimstone-rock wall. Everything was made of blood, bones and brimstone in the Pit, really, but Alistair had once commented that he liked the way the rough texture could flay skin so artfully. There were no fused-bone walls in Alistair’s kingdom, only brimstone rock that was rough and perfectly suited to Alistair’s tastes.
“Not at all, young Sammy.” the demon purred, waving his free hand in a dismissive gesture while Dean’s eyes roamed over the angel. It was incredible, but nothing like his Castiel. The Seraph was all beauty and grace, where this creature was fury and superiority. He glared at them with gray-brown eyes, his nose upturned. The angel was balding and, while not overweight, still heavier than his Cas.
“You think you will get away with this?” he sneered. “Even now my brothers are preparing to lay siege to this disgusting place.”
“Aw, isn’t that cute.” Alistair purred, drawing his razor lovingly along the angel’s thigh without applying any pressure. “Dean-o, this poultry thinks it’s actually gonna be saved. Like some two-bit angel can overpower me.”
Dean laughed, shooting a wink Sammy’s way before he went over and picked up his favorite blade. It was curved, and wickedly sharp, and he was quite fond of it. Stepping up to stand beside his teacher, he licked his lips while he looked up at the Archangel.
“Can we start?” he asked eagerly. “Can we? I bet he’ll be so much fun to play with.” He heard Alistair’s chuckle and felt his teacher ruffle his hair affectionately. Alistair’s tail nudged against his, but Dean kept his firmly curled around his leg.
Together, they stepped forward and raised their tools.
Castiel had heard Sam’s words clearly, but hearing that an angel had been captured did nothing to him. His worry immediately went to Dean, fearing that the demon might be injured by such a ferocious creature. As soon as the brothers were good he’d stood up and began pacing his room, following the smooth walls. Hell was supposed to be a place of horror and grotesque formations, but his room was beautiful. The walls were marble, and he had a Roman-style bath sunk into the floor in one corner, with a wash-basin beside it. Not because he would need to bathe, but so he could if he wished to.
Maybe a bath would help relax him, though. With that thought in mind, Castiel approached the sunken tub, looking it over curiously. It was large enough to fit many bodies; more than big enough for him and his wings. There were no knobs or faucets, however. Curiously, Castiel thought water, and watched in delight as the bath filled. When he touched it with his toe, however, he found it incredibly cold. Hot water he thought, and immediately the water began to steam.
Castiel slipped in, shivering in delight at the feel of the warm water. Slowly he lowered his wings in, smiling as the water ran through the feathers. They would not truly get wet, and once he was done he could take the time to properly groom them. With that thought in mind, Castiel slipped under the surface to get his hair wet.
When he resurfaced, Dean was standing there watching him. The Seraph let out a soft noise of distress and began to pull himself out. Dean was covered in bronze-colored blood, his normally green eyes completely overtaken by black.
“No, Cas, its alright.” the demon said gently, motioning for Castiel to slide back in the bath. The angel made room, watching as Dean reached behind himself to undo the clasps and ties that held up his pants. The demon wiggled out of them and came forward, sliding into the water with Castiel.
“What happened?” Castiel asked, running his hands across Dean’s skin and washing away the blood. He was curious that it didn’t taint the water, seeming to just vanish once it touched the surface. “I heard Sam saying something about an angel, and then you both left.”
“Sammy and his teacher got into a bit of an altercation with some angels.” Dean’s eyes were closed, his head resting on the side of the tub as Castiel continued to stroke and touch his chest; the angel wanted to make sure there was no more blood left, and he was enjoying the texture of Dean’s skin too much to stop.
“They are unharmed?” he asked hopefully, leaning forward to nuzzle at Dean’s throat. The demon let out a purr and brought up a hand at last, sliding his fingers into Castiel’s hair. The angel enjoyed the touch, and the way the fingers carded gently through his wet hair so as not to snag on tangles. Dean’s scent was heady, even dampened by the water.
“Yeah.” the demon rumbled quietly, his voice deep and husky. It made Castiel shiver in delight. He was so focused on Dean’s scent that he wasn’t paying attention to the demon’s free hand, and when it slid through his feathers he bucked in surprise, letting out a soft gasp as pleasure sparked through him.
“Your wings are really sensitive, aren’t they?” Dean breathed into his ear before gently biting down on the lobe. Castiel whined high in his throat, tilting his head to the side without realizing it so Dean had more room. The demon’s hand slid from his hair, moving down to run through his other wing, lightly stroking over the feathers before burying deeper. “Tell me, Cas.”
“W-what?” Castiel whimpered, unable to figure out what Dean was asking. He clung to the demon, rubbing against him almost desperately as pleasure overwhelmed him.
“Your wings are sensitive, aren’t they? You like it when I do this.” Dean tugged firmly on a clump of his primary feathers, and Castiel let out a guttural cry. He hadn’t even realized how much he was being affected until he felt Dean’s tail rub over the head of his arousal. His hips bucked at the touch, another bird-like keen torn from him as he threw back his head and closed his eyes.
“Yes.” he moaned, not sure if he was agreeing with Dean or reacting to the pleasure. Breath hitching, he tried again. “Yes. It f-feels really good, Dean. Really good.” It felt better than anything he’d ever felt before. It felt like Dean was touching his grace.
When Dean pulled his hands away, Castiel whined in protest, flaring out his wings and trying to follow the demon’s hands. He heard Dean chuckle and looked at him in confusion.
“So eager, Cas.” Dean whispered, nibbling on the side of his neck. Castiel felt the water move as Dean’s hands slipped under, and suddenly one was slipping behind his knee and drawing it forward. The other settled on his hip. He felt his legs being parted and made a questioning sound.
“Dean?”
The demon shushed him softly, leaning back against the side of the tub and just looking at him. “I love you, Cas.”
The words delighted Castiel, and he tried to lean forward to nuzzle Dean’s neck again. Dean’s hand tightened on his hip however, and the demon shook his head. “I love you.” he said again. “You’re my angel. Mine only. But you don’t love me yet.”
Castiel whined in confusion.
“You don’t, Cas. I can see it. You may not realize you’re doing it, but you still flinch whenever I reach for you. Your wings tense when I touch them.”
“I’m sorry.” Castiel said, stricken. He knew Dean was right. He was still afraid of the demon. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. I don’t mean it.” Please don’t hurt me.
“Shh, shh, Cas, calm down. You’re shaking.” Dean pulled him forward finally, wrapping his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and soothing him while he trembled. Castiel didn’t want to make Dean angry. He was a good angel; he behaved. But Dean was still displeased. Castiel didn’t want that. The Seraph wanted Dean to be happy. Somehow, somewhere along the line, he’d begun to need Dean.
Castiel relaxed against the demon, nuzzling his pulse-point and making little sounds of unhappiness. His wings hung behind him, proving better than anything how upset he was with himself. He’d have to do better for Dean.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me.” Dean promised, murmuring the words into his hair. “You’ve been so good, angel. I didn’t want to hurt you, I really didn’t. But you were bad, and you tried to leave me. You’re not allowed to leave me, Cas. Never, do you understand?”
“I understand.” Castiel promised faithfully, pulling back far enough to look at Dean. “I promise I’ll be good. I’ll never leave you.”
“Not even if the angels come for you?” Dean asked, looking wary.
Castiel tilted his head, confused. “Why would angels come for me?” he questioned, frowning. “That makes no sense. If angels come for me, I wouldn’t go with them. They’re mean, and uncaring. You’re gentle and friendly.” His eyes widened as a sudden thought crossed his mind. “You won’t make me, will you, Dean? Please don’t make me go with the angels. I want to stay with you, not go with them. Don’t let them take me.”
“Never.” Dean swore, gathering Castiel close to him. “They’ll never take you away from me. I love you, and they don’t. They abandoned you, Cas. They never cared about you at all. I do.”
Nodding, Castiel smiled. He believed Dean. Dean was kind to him, and loving. He did not hurt Castiel when the Seraph behaved, and so Castiel made sure to behave. When he was good, Dean was happy, and he wanted Dean to be happy.
“C’mon, angel. Lets get out of the water.” Dean stood up, holding out a hand to Castiel. The angel took it and stood as well, allowing Dean to lead him from the tub. The water disappeared once they were out.
Strong arms wrapped around him as Dean gently toweled him off. The towel was thick and fluffy, and quite enjoyable as it rubbed over his skin. When Dean was finished, Castiel turned and repaid the favor, drying Dean off and spending a lot of time drying and stroking his tail. It was quite an amazing thing, and he was quickly beginning to love touching it.
“Are there bones?” he asked curiously, bringing it up for a better look. He blinked when Dean brushed the tip over his nose, blushing when he remembered what the demon’s tail had been doing not too long ago.
“No, no bones. Our tails are actually made up of thousands of tiny muscles, so we can have control over them and there’s less chance of them being broken.” Dean told him, smiling as Castiel finally let his tail go. Dean reached for him then, taking his hand. “Let me dry your wings?”
Nodding, Castiel went to the bed without being told and laid down on his stomach. His wings weren’t soaked, simply flecked with water droplets; his oil went a long way in protecting his feathers. When he felt the first touch of the towel, he sighed happily and relaxed.
It didn’t feel the same as when Dean was actually touching his wings; more like it did when he groomed his wings himself. The sensation was still nice, though, and Castiel closed his eyes and smiled.