fic, Supernatural: Last Exit (Dean/Castiel), NC17
Title: Last Exit
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Words: 1872
Summary: "Dean," he whispers again, and there's something desperate in Castiel's voice, so raw and small at the same time that Dean can only relent and turn to face him, and fuck if he can't hold on to a vow for more than a minute. As it is, they are definitely not done, and that just makes Dean want to scream.
Spoilers: heavy for 4x22. Actually, the prompt I wrote it for it's spoilery in itself and it's in the summary, so if you didn't see it just scroll this down.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, what news. And I don't even own the title, it's from a random Pearl Jam song which doesn't have a thing to do with the fic whatsoever.
A/N: written for the Supernatural kink meme for the prompt desperate sex and wing!porn. Set in the room where Dean is being held hostage by the angels in 4.22. Using for sacred_20 #16, reverent.
"You're already dead. We're done."
"Dean..."
"We're done," Dean spits, and he makes sure that the tone is as reproachful as it can get. Fuck Cas for being the spineless son of a bitch he is and for making Dean think he could actually trust him, fuck Zachariah for putting him in this mess at all, fuck himself because maybe he could have made Sam stay instead of snapping at him even if he deserved it and just, fuck everything. He wants to break his hand against the wall and he's almost tempted to, not like it hasn't been hurting already since he tried to punch Castiel, but then he feels a presence just behind him and it's not right because according to what always happens, Castiel should be gone now.
"Dean," he whispers again, and there's something desperate in Castiel's voice, so raw and small at the same time that Dean can only relent and turn to face him, and fuck if he can't hold on to a vow for more than a minute. As it is, they are definitely not done, and that just makes Dean want to scream.
"And what now?" he asks, realizing that he sounds more frustrated than angry. It doesn't matter that Castiel is looking down at the ground and that his posture is everything but badass-angelic and that his shoulders are somewhat hunched and his eyes just sad for the second they meet Dean's before turning back to the ground.
He's not falling for his act, no sir; except that he has to at least wonder if it is an act at all when Castiel raises one hand and then drops it by his side.
"I... I can't... this is not the way I wanted it to be."
"Well, your fucking choice, Cas. Cut the crap and just decide."
"Dean, can't you see that I don't have a choice?"
"Bullshit. Everybody has one, you included."
Castiel shakes his head and suddenly comes closer. Way too close. Fuck, Dean thinks, Jimmy could have at least taught him that the concept of personal space exists in this world.
"I can't. You don't know what... why..."
Suddenly Dean finds himself with his wrists pinned to the wall and Castiel's eyes burn into his; almost like that time when he threatened to send him back to Hell, he thinks, and then shivers.
"You just don't get to say such a thing until you know why. Bible camp, as you said," and Castiel's voice drops to a hiss, clearly forcing the words out, "didn't last two days for me. And you don't want to know what was it like. But if you want to know why I did agree in the end, it was because I was assured that no matter what, you'd be granted access to Heaven along with your brother. I see that I was wrong and it wouldn't bring you the happiness you still think you don't deserve, but you don't get to say I'm dead. You just don't."
"Didn't you say that you didn't serve..."
"What was I supposed to say? We were being watched. I couldn't do otherwise, not when... when it was what I should have said."
"And you didn't want to say it?"
"No. I... I didn't."
"But... what's it then?"
"I want," Castiel chokes, and then his lips are on Dean's, insistent and firm and pretty fucking desperate as he cradles Dean's face between his hands. For a second Dean wonders if it's just another trick, but Castiel's hands are shaking and angels aren't supposed to shake and whimper as Castiel is; it just can't be fake. It can't be, and Dean opens his mouth and swallows Castiel's grateful moan. The sound breaks something in him, though; Castiel kisses him like he's starved for it and he's... well, he's a mess. A very, very human mess actually. Dean feels suddenly scared of what triggered this, of how deep he must have gotten under Castiel's skin; but well, Castiel got under his own in return because otherwise Dean would be pushing him away and not drawing him closer by the hems of that ridiculous coat.
He can't help himself, not when he knows the reasons, not when Castiel is honest-to-God melting against him murmuring I'm sorry and I want and I need between quick kisses he trails over Dean's face. Suddenly all he wants is to take off that damned tax accountant outfit, slam Castiel against the wall, have his way with him before fleeing this place and try to stop Sam with Castiel standing by his side. And then, he remembers that they're probably not alone.
"Cas, what if they're seeing us?"
Castiel bites his lip and looks straight at him.
"Do you want to stop?"
"Fuck no," he breathes.
"Well, then I think I might have a solution."
Suddenly Castiel's coat and shirt are on the ground and a bright, blinding light fills the room; Dean thinks he might faint when he sees two wide, just magnificent wings as they stretch from Castiel's back. The feathers are all different shades of gray and fuck, they glow silver of anything; Dean longs to touch them all of a sudden and he's just mesmerized as Castiel comes closer. But he can't help noticing that the wings aren't exactly symmetrical; one is slightly crooked and hunches a bit, like it was broken at some point and then badly set.
"What... was that because of..." he murmurs, not wanting to kill the mood by saying it out loud, but unable to shut up. As usual. Castiel's sad, weary smile says it all and Dean wishes he never, never told Cas what he said before because no creature such as Castiel should be punished for his sake, of everyone. Not even if he's a self-righteous pain in the ass most of the time. After all, he did drag him out, which makes him Dean's personal pain in the ass, and he just can't stand the thought.
"You shouldn't have... I'm not..."
"You are," Castiel simply says, and then the wings wrap softly around them. "There. No one can see us now."
Dean nod and his hand reaches forward, touching the feathers. They're soft and pliant to the touch and as his fingers tangle in between, they sort of move forward, like they want to be touched. And so he strokes here and there for a while while Castiel is still with his hands on Dean's waist.
It isn't until Castiel starts moaning softly that Dean realizes that those wings aren't part of Jimmy Novak's body; those wings are Castiel himself and if they want Dean's hands upon them, then Castiel wants the same and it's enough to make his knees almost buckle. He draws Castiel closer and grinds against him, suddenly terrified as he realizes how, how desperate he is for this. Even if maybe the most terrifying thing is that Castiel is as desperate as he is, but fuck, thinking is really not what he should do now.
He feels too clothed and he groans in relief as Castiel takes his jacket and shirt off; hands roam all over his chest and Dean just arches into the touch, feathers touching his back as the wings curl closer. Castiel's skin is unbearably hot against his but it feels fine, just fine, and when hands cup his cheeks and turn his head so that he's facing Castiel, Dean's heart skips a beat. Castiel's lips are swollen and his eyes are impossibly wide and he's looking at him in a way that Dean would describe almost as reverent, if his ego was far gone enough to make him say such a thing. And he looks at him as if he wants to say something but can't say what.
Goes unsaid that Dean chooses the easy way.
"Cas, fuck, just... if you don't do something now I might..."
And then he finds himself slammed up against the wall even if it doesn't hurt because his back lands against soft, soft feathers, and Castiel pushes his own trousers and Dean's jeans down and damn, damn, damn, seeing Castiel spit into his hand after a couple of seconds where it looked like he was debating over something is wrongwrongwrong but it's also such a turn-on that Dean becomes even harder and really, he had thought it couldn't get any worse. Wrong.
But when his hands grip Castiel's hips again knowing that they won't bruise and he somehow hooks his legs around Castiel's waist as he's pushed against the feathers covering the wall it really isn't wrong, and it isn't wrong when there's a finger and then two and then Castiel is inside him with a single push and while it does hurt, it's bearable. And then Castiel starts thrusting without taking it slow and Dean meets him because he can't do this slowly now, not when Castiel's mouth found his again and again he's being kissed like Castiel is just starved for it.
He can't deny that the urgency is making him getting closer and closer and then there's that striking contrast between that strange, perfect mix of pain and pleasure that Castiel's thrusts bring and the way the wings are just comfortable behind his shoulders. A feather bed, he thinks, and he'd laugh if he wasn't busy trying to last a bit here. He's impossibly, achingly hard when one of Castiel's hands reach down and wraps around his cock, and then Dean just can't hold it anymore, not really, and as he comes his head is on Castiel's shoulder and he doesn't realize that, as he said fuck, Cas before losing any possible coherence, his tone had been low and he had muttered it in Castiel's ear. The body against his shakes then, shakes hard, and Castiel is coming barely seconds later, Dean's name the only word escaping his lips. Dean should seriously freak out as he sees his features relax in an expression which he can only describe as blissed, but he just can't bring himself to care about that when the feathers beneath his back feel better than anything he ever laid on. Not when Castiel's lips are so close and just begging to be kissed. And Dean does, and strangely it's slow and short and it lacks any urgency whatsoever, but he knows it can't last.
It can't and as they part he barely has time to blink before his clothes are back on and the wings are gone and it's just him and Cas in the holy tax accountant suit.
"So what now?" Dean asks, his voice hoarse. He's barely aware he's speaking.
There's a certain sweetness in Castiel's smile which is his only answer; and then Dean sees him taking a knife, Ruby's knife, out of a pocket in the inside of the trench coat, but a hand is on his mouth and Castiel is backing him up against the wall again. Suddenly Dean recognizes his expression, the same he had in the parking lot when he told Dean that an archangel was perched on Chuck's shoulder, and he nods; it's two seconds before Castiel places blade against his skin and slices his forearm.
End.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Words: 1872
Summary: "Dean," he whispers again, and there's something desperate in Castiel's voice, so raw and small at the same time that Dean can only relent and turn to face him, and fuck if he can't hold on to a vow for more than a minute. As it is, they are definitely not done, and that just makes Dean want to scream.
Spoilers: heavy for 4x22. Actually, the prompt I wrote it for it's spoilery in itself and it's in the summary, so if you didn't see it just scroll this down.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, what news. And I don't even own the title, it's from a random Pearl Jam song which doesn't have a thing to do with the fic whatsoever.
A/N: written for the Supernatural kink meme for the prompt desperate sex and wing!porn. Set in the room where Dean is being held hostage by the angels in 4.22. Using for sacred_20 #16, reverent.
"You're already dead. We're done."
"Dean..."
"We're done," Dean spits, and he makes sure that the tone is as reproachful as it can get. Fuck Cas for being the spineless son of a bitch he is and for making Dean think he could actually trust him, fuck Zachariah for putting him in this mess at all, fuck himself because maybe he could have made Sam stay instead of snapping at him even if he deserved it and just, fuck everything. He wants to break his hand against the wall and he's almost tempted to, not like it hasn't been hurting already since he tried to punch Castiel, but then he feels a presence just behind him and it's not right because according to what always happens, Castiel should be gone now.
"Dean," he whispers again, and there's something desperate in Castiel's voice, so raw and small at the same time that Dean can only relent and turn to face him, and fuck if he can't hold on to a vow for more than a minute. As it is, they are definitely not done, and that just makes Dean want to scream.
"And what now?" he asks, realizing that he sounds more frustrated than angry. It doesn't matter that Castiel is looking down at the ground and that his posture is everything but badass-angelic and that his shoulders are somewhat hunched and his eyes just sad for the second they meet Dean's before turning back to the ground.
He's not falling for his act, no sir; except that he has to at least wonder if it is an act at all when Castiel raises one hand and then drops it by his side.
"I... I can't... this is not the way I wanted it to be."
"Well, your fucking choice, Cas. Cut the crap and just decide."
"Dean, can't you see that I don't have a choice?"
"Bullshit. Everybody has one, you included."
Castiel shakes his head and suddenly comes closer. Way too close. Fuck, Dean thinks, Jimmy could have at least taught him that the concept of personal space exists in this world.
"I can't. You don't know what... why..."
Suddenly Dean finds himself with his wrists pinned to the wall and Castiel's eyes burn into his; almost like that time when he threatened to send him back to Hell, he thinks, and then shivers.
"You just don't get to say such a thing until you know why. Bible camp, as you said," and Castiel's voice drops to a hiss, clearly forcing the words out, "didn't last two days for me. And you don't want to know what was it like. But if you want to know why I did agree in the end, it was because I was assured that no matter what, you'd be granted access to Heaven along with your brother. I see that I was wrong and it wouldn't bring you the happiness you still think you don't deserve, but you don't get to say I'm dead. You just don't."
"Didn't you say that you didn't serve..."
"What was I supposed to say? We were being watched. I couldn't do otherwise, not when... when it was what I should have said."
"And you didn't want to say it?"
"No. I... I didn't."
"But... what's it then?"
"I want," Castiel chokes, and then his lips are on Dean's, insistent and firm and pretty fucking desperate as he cradles Dean's face between his hands. For a second Dean wonders if it's just another trick, but Castiel's hands are shaking and angels aren't supposed to shake and whimper as Castiel is; it just can't be fake. It can't be, and Dean opens his mouth and swallows Castiel's grateful moan. The sound breaks something in him, though; Castiel kisses him like he's starved for it and he's... well, he's a mess. A very, very human mess actually. Dean feels suddenly scared of what triggered this, of how deep he must have gotten under Castiel's skin; but well, Castiel got under his own in return because otherwise Dean would be pushing him away and not drawing him closer by the hems of that ridiculous coat.
He can't help himself, not when he knows the reasons, not when Castiel is honest-to-God melting against him murmuring I'm sorry and I want and I need between quick kisses he trails over Dean's face. Suddenly all he wants is to take off that damned tax accountant outfit, slam Castiel against the wall, have his way with him before fleeing this place and try to stop Sam with Castiel standing by his side. And then, he remembers that they're probably not alone.
"Cas, what if they're seeing us?"
Castiel bites his lip and looks straight at him.
"Do you want to stop?"
"Fuck no," he breathes.
"Well, then I think I might have a solution."
Suddenly Castiel's coat and shirt are on the ground and a bright, blinding light fills the room; Dean thinks he might faint when he sees two wide, just magnificent wings as they stretch from Castiel's back. The feathers are all different shades of gray and fuck, they glow silver of anything; Dean longs to touch them all of a sudden and he's just mesmerized as Castiel comes closer. But he can't help noticing that the wings aren't exactly symmetrical; one is slightly crooked and hunches a bit, like it was broken at some point and then badly set.
"What... was that because of..." he murmurs, not wanting to kill the mood by saying it out loud, but unable to shut up. As usual. Castiel's sad, weary smile says it all and Dean wishes he never, never told Cas what he said before because no creature such as Castiel should be punished for his sake, of everyone. Not even if he's a self-righteous pain in the ass most of the time. After all, he did drag him out, which makes him Dean's personal pain in the ass, and he just can't stand the thought.
"You shouldn't have... I'm not..."
"You are," Castiel simply says, and then the wings wrap softly around them. "There. No one can see us now."
Dean nod and his hand reaches forward, touching the feathers. They're soft and pliant to the touch and as his fingers tangle in between, they sort of move forward, like they want to be touched. And so he strokes here and there for a while while Castiel is still with his hands on Dean's waist.
It isn't until Castiel starts moaning softly that Dean realizes that those wings aren't part of Jimmy Novak's body; those wings are Castiel himself and if they want Dean's hands upon them, then Castiel wants the same and it's enough to make his knees almost buckle. He draws Castiel closer and grinds against him, suddenly terrified as he realizes how, how desperate he is for this. Even if maybe the most terrifying thing is that Castiel is as desperate as he is, but fuck, thinking is really not what he should do now.
He feels too clothed and he groans in relief as Castiel takes his jacket and shirt off; hands roam all over his chest and Dean just arches into the touch, feathers touching his back as the wings curl closer. Castiel's skin is unbearably hot against his but it feels fine, just fine, and when hands cup his cheeks and turn his head so that he's facing Castiel, Dean's heart skips a beat. Castiel's lips are swollen and his eyes are impossibly wide and he's looking at him in a way that Dean would describe almost as reverent, if his ego was far gone enough to make him say such a thing. And he looks at him as if he wants to say something but can't say what.
Goes unsaid that Dean chooses the easy way.
"Cas, fuck, just... if you don't do something now I might..."
And then he finds himself slammed up against the wall even if it doesn't hurt because his back lands against soft, soft feathers, and Castiel pushes his own trousers and Dean's jeans down and damn, damn, damn, seeing Castiel spit into his hand after a couple of seconds where it looked like he was debating over something is wrongwrongwrong but it's also such a turn-on that Dean becomes even harder and really, he had thought it couldn't get any worse. Wrong.
But when his hands grip Castiel's hips again knowing that they won't bruise and he somehow hooks his legs around Castiel's waist as he's pushed against the feathers covering the wall it really isn't wrong, and it isn't wrong when there's a finger and then two and then Castiel is inside him with a single push and while it does hurt, it's bearable. And then Castiel starts thrusting without taking it slow and Dean meets him because he can't do this slowly now, not when Castiel's mouth found his again and again he's being kissed like Castiel is just starved for it.
He can't deny that the urgency is making him getting closer and closer and then there's that striking contrast between that strange, perfect mix of pain and pleasure that Castiel's thrusts bring and the way the wings are just comfortable behind his shoulders. A feather bed, he thinks, and he'd laugh if he wasn't busy trying to last a bit here. He's impossibly, achingly hard when one of Castiel's hands reach down and wraps around his cock, and then Dean just can't hold it anymore, not really, and as he comes his head is on Castiel's shoulder and he doesn't realize that, as he said fuck, Cas before losing any possible coherence, his tone had been low and he had muttered it in Castiel's ear. The body against his shakes then, shakes hard, and Castiel is coming barely seconds later, Dean's name the only word escaping his lips. Dean should seriously freak out as he sees his features relax in an expression which he can only describe as blissed, but he just can't bring himself to care about that when the feathers beneath his back feel better than anything he ever laid on. Not when Castiel's lips are so close and just begging to be kissed. And Dean does, and strangely it's slow and short and it lacks any urgency whatsoever, but he knows it can't last.
It can't and as they part he barely has time to blink before his clothes are back on and the wings are gone and it's just him and Cas in the holy tax accountant suit.
"So what now?" Dean asks, his voice hoarse. He's barely aware he's speaking.
There's a certain sweetness in Castiel's smile which is his only answer; and then Dean sees him taking a knife, Ruby's knife, out of a pocket in the inside of the trench coat, but a hand is on his mouth and Castiel is backing him up against the wall again. Suddenly Dean recognizes his expression, the same he had in the parking lot when he told Dean that an archangel was perched on Chuck's shoulder, and he nods; it's two seconds before Castiel places blade against his skin and slices his forearm.
End.