Right Where You Left Me
Title: Right Where You Left Me
Author:
signalfire
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2515
Spoilers: 5:04 'The End'
Warnings: Angst, dub-con, bottom!Cas, gunplay, dirty talk, oral, anal,
Summary: “It must be difficult for you,” Cas whispers. “To see yourself like that. To know that all of that is inside you.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Written for sully86s prompt here at deancaskink
Unbeta'd as usual. All mistakes are mine.
Dean closes the door behind him, closes the door on the harsh and unforgiving future world and leans back against it, breathing in the warmer air of Cas' room, trying to ignore the way it smells like a new age shop and marijuana.
Cas is sitting on some pillows on the floor about ten feet away, legs crossed, looking at Dean curiously.
With sudden realisation that the last time he was here Cas was laying the foundations for an orgy, Dean looks around quickly, checking to see if he has company.
“You don't have any women here, do you?” he asks.
“Is that a request or just a question?” Cas grins, standing gracefully and taking a few steps towards Dean, his bare feet silent on the floor.
“I didn't want to interrupt anything,” Dean replies, his eyes still flicking around the room before they have no choice but to rest on Cas.
Cas shrugs his shoulders, stopping a foot or so away from Dean. “No, it's just little old me in here. What's wrong?”
“I just-Um, it's just...very different out there. Everyone is so...fucked up. Chuck and-”
“Me?” Cas offers, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Me,” Dean replies.
“Oh, yeah,” Cas laughs lightly. “Yeah, you're a total jerk.”
“I don't want to end up like that,” Dean admits, leaning his head back against the door and closing his eyes, trying to compose himself. The warmth of Castiel's body against him is sudden, and though a little part of his head is amused that even as a man Cas can't respect personal space he's confused.
He opens his eyes and Cas' are there, brilliant and blue though his pupils are large and Dean can only assume it's from the drugs.
“It must be difficult for you,” Cas whispers. “To see yourself like that. To know that all of that is inside you.”
Something about the way Cas speaks makes Dean shiver slightly.
“It's inside you, it's something you can be, so reckless and unforgiving and driven. It must be tearing you up inside.”
Dean physically jumps when Castiel's finger presses against his chest, tracing a line down his sternum.
“I'm sorry you have to see yourself like this,” Cas continues as though there's absolutely nothing wrong with this scenario, with his closeness or his touching or his damn words. “I can't imagine how hard-” his hand drops and Dean twitches again, wondering where that hand is going to go and biting his lip when he feels the pressure against his hip. “-this is.”
When did Cas learn- who taught him-? Dean has a whole lot of questions that he doesn't suppose are ever going to be answered, especially since they're melting out of his brain the closer Cas gets. Christ, the man is completely intoxicating. And Dean can't even pretend it's because he doesn't recognise him as his friend. This is Cas. His eyes, his hair, the very soft, delicate shape of his face. Dean draws in a sharp breath because...soft, delicate shape of his face? Where the he-
The sharp breath slips into a lightly embarrassing whine when Cas presses against him, full bodied, hand resting on his ass.
“Cas- what-?”
He feels the brief slip of his gun being pulled out from the back of his jeans but he's powerless to do anything about it, slumping against the wall even when Cas pulls back and walks away, retreating quietly back to his pillows with Dean's gun in his hands.
“Cas?” Dean rasps, following every movement as Cas unlocks the barrel, spins it, checks the bullets and clips it back together. Cas presses the gun to the side of his head and Dean doesn't think he's ever moved as fast in his life, crossing the room and grabbing the hilt of the gun to wrest it away before Cas can blow his brains out.
Cas keeps hold of the barrel and though he lets Dean move back slightly he doesn't allow the gun to point away, the angle shifting from his temple to his face. And he has a good grip. Dean relents for a moment.
“You're fucking crazy,” he whispers, looking down into Cas' wide and deceptively innocent eyes.
“No,” Cas shakes his head. “This is how I stay sane. It reminds me I'm mortal now. It reminds me that any moment I could die. It stops me being reckless.” He manoeuvres himself onto his knees, never breaking eye contact with Dean even as he leans in and runs his tongue around the opening of the barrel, the tiniest smear of gunpowder marking his tongue.
Dean sucks in a breath, suddenly dizzy from the blood rushing down between his legs.
Parting his lips Cas leans in, sliding them an inch or so up the barrel before pulling back, no longer holding the gun in place, Dean realises. He's holding it, pointing it at Cas, keeping it steady as Cas' tongue and lips caress the metal, taking it into his mouth an inch at a time until most of the barrel is in his mouth and, Dean groans, must almost be hitting the back of his throat.
Cas pulls back and releases the gun which is now shiny from his saliva, but even that is painfully sexual.
“You know,” Cas whispers, running his tongue around the opening again. “You and I- the you in this time-” his tongue creeps a little further up the barrel, small and pink against the dark metal. “You fucked me.”
Dean groans again, not able to make himself feel guilty for using Cas in that way. And Cas doesn't really seem too bothered, wrapping his lips around the gun again, rocking backwards and forwards, working his mouth and tongue over the first few inches and Dean can practically feel the movements on his own cock.
“You held a gun to my head,” Cas whispers, back to flicking his tongue over the end of the gun, “and you told me to get on my knees and suck you off.” There is another smear of gunpowder on Cas' upper lip and Dean wants to clean it off with his own tongue. He's panting. “The gun wasn't necessary,” Cas begins to lick his way up the barrel, short sweeps of his tongue that get higher and higher and Dean thinks he's probably going to come in his pants if he watches this any longer. “I would always have done anything for you if you asked.” Cas' tongue sweeps up the final inch of the barrel until it brushes against the tip of Dean's index finger and then smoothly down the inside of it.
Dean sucks in another breath, letting the gun drop to the floor, giving it no more consideration as he shoves his fingers into Cas' hair and pulls him forward, pressing Cas' face against his crotch, against the bulge of his cock in his jeans. Cas moans, the vibration reaching Dean through the layers and pulling a similar sound from his lips.
“S'more like it, Dean,” Cas mumbles against the shape of Dean's dick, mouthing it's outline as his hands reach up to grip the other man's hips, turning Dean with ease and slamming him back against the wall. Dean goes without complaint, twisting his fingers in Cas' hair until he gasps, allowing an inch of room for Dean to ease his zipper down and free his aching cock. Cas doesn't even wait for Dean to slacken his grip, pushing forward and sliding his lips all the way down Dean's length.
“Oh fuck-” Dean gasps as he feels himself hit the back of Cas' throat, stars bursting behind his eyes when he realises that yeah, he's completely filling Cas' mouth and there are no complaints.
Cas slides back up Dean's dick, massaging his head with his tongue before pulling off. “I have no gag reflex,” he says with the dirtiest smirk. “Whatever you want, deep as you can get.”
Dean's eyes widen. “Cas-”
“I'm serious.” Cas says, his voice laced with serenity as he leans in, flicking his tongue over the tip of Dean's leaking cock. “Fuck my mouth if you want.”
“Oh, God-”
“Shh,” Cas shakes his head, parting his lips to take Dean back down his throat again.
Dean isn't not going to take advantage of this. He'd be a fool to pass it up. With one hand he braces himself against the wall, the other running through Cas' hair, holding him in place so that when Dean rocks his hips forward he slides deep into Cas' throat, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it each time. And Cas takes it. Oh, fuck, Cas takes it and he sounds like he loves it if the moans vibrating against his dick is anything to go by. His balls are tightening painfully and he's only thrust in to this tight heat a few times. He doesn't want to come yet.
“Stop, Cas-” Dean pulls him back roughly, groaning again as Cas hollows his cheeks on the way up, one last jolt of pleasure rocking through Dean before he can look the other man in the eyes.
“I thought you were enjoying it,” Cas whispers, his voice slightly rough and slightly shaky.
“Too much,” Dean shakes his head. “I don't want-”
“You're so different,” Cas muses, cutting Dean off mid sentence. “My two Dean's. So very different.” He flicks out his tongue again and laps up the bead of precome that is leaking from the end of Dean's dick. “He fucked me with his gun once-”
“What?” Dean squeaks, though his dick gives an interested jump and Cas reaches up and wraps his fingers around it, starting to jerk Dean off slowly.
“Yeah, it was- different. But who am I to argue?”
“Cas-” Dean thinks they should be having a serious conversation now and that he should be apologising for his behaviour, but it's very difficult to do that when Cas' rough fingers are stroking him just how he likes it. And he can only imagine why that is-
“I was on my hands and knees for- for you. Naked. You ran your gun up the inside of my thighs. And I- I didn't know you were going to do it. But it's as thick as your cock, so it fit easy enough.”
Dean is ashamed of the way his dick is leaking over Cas' fingers as he describes what happened, but he can't bring himself to tell the other man to stop. And Cas is just looking at him, looking up into his eyes, watching every reaction.
“You held me open and pushed it into me, and it was cold and hard. And you were rubbing your dick against my legs as you took me. You like the power, don't you?” Cas leans in and swipes his tongue over Dean's head once more, cleaning him up. “You called me angel every time. Every time you had me.”
Dean is so torn but his orgasm is building up really quickly and all he can think of is coming over Cas's hand.
“You were rough, you were rough but I loved it. And I asked you for more. And I asked for it harder. And you did it. And you told me how good I looked with it sliding into me. How good I looked stretched around it.”
“Cas-”
“You came over my thighs and then you pulled the trigger-”
“Fuck, Cas-”
“Made me come. I came so hard, Dean-”
Dean shoves Cas away from him, pushes him backwards and Cas looks surprised, which is the only reason Dean has the upper hand for now. He drops down to his knees and reaches for Cas' pants, tugging them down roughly and freeing Cas' erection. He sees the momentary flicker of sadness in Cas' eyes and knows that he only has himself to thank for that.
“Come here,” Dean growls, grabbing Cas' shirt and pulling him up, pulling him into his lap.
The sadness changes to shock and then before Cas can say or do anything else Dean pulls him in for a kiss.
It's the hottest and most bittersweet kiss he's ever experienced. Cas is hesitant at first but then his arms wind around Dean's shoulders and his fingers thread gently through his hair as Dean's hold him by the hips, stroking the jut of his bones with his thumbs. They both gasp in whatever breath they can whenever they can and their lips clash but Dean never wants to stop. His cock is bumping against Cas' belly and smearing his come over his skin, Cas' is rubbing against the denim of Dean's jeans and that is probably painful-
One of Cas' hands relocates, gripping Dean's shaft again and he wonders if Cas is going to jerk him off again, which would be amazing and he could totally deal with that right now. But Cas has other ideas and Dean feels him lift his body up, feels with sudden shock the tightness of Cas' body as his entrance stretches around him.
“Cas-” Dean's protest cannot even be called that, but Cas has had no preparation and he can't keep hurting him. But fuck if Cas doesn't feel good like this with his legs wrapped around him and his fingers returning to Dean's hair, forcefully rejoining their lips. They kiss until the breath has left them, interspersed by moans and gasps as Cas rocks his hips, riding Dean, his muscles gripping and trembling around Dean's aching cock. Dean's hand slides from Cas' hip and wraps around his dick, stroking him in time with the motion of their bodies. He was already so close, the moans of pleasure Cas pants out are driving him crazy and they've barely gotten started before he feels his orgasm pulse through him, his head slamming back against the wall as he comes harder than he can ever remember. The feeling of Dean coming, the way the other man's cock pulses inside him means that Cas joins him seconds later, releasing over Dean's hand and shirt. The kisses slow, the gripping and the touching becomes more tender.
Their lips part with the softest sound and they both open their eyes. Cas' still hold the whole universe in them, angel or not, and Dean wants to rip him from this world and carry him home.
“There's the man I love,” Cas whispers, sadness clouding over the universe, stroking his fingers down the side of Dean's face. “I miss you.”
Dean shakes his head, unable to say anything, wrapping his arms around Cas' back and holding him close. “I'm sorry,” he replies after what feels like an hour, a year. Four years and this will be their life.
Author:
signalfire
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: NC-17
Words: 2515
Spoilers: 5:04 'The End'
Warnings: Angst, dub-con, bottom!Cas, gunplay, dirty talk, oral, anal,
Summary: “It must be difficult for you,” Cas whispers. “To see yourself like that. To know that all of that is inside you.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Written for sully86s prompt here at deancaskink
Unbeta'd as usual. All mistakes are mine.
Dean closes the door behind him, closes the door on the harsh and unforgiving future world and leans back against it, breathing in the warmer air of Cas' room, trying to ignore the way it smells like a new age shop and marijuana.
Cas is sitting on some pillows on the floor about ten feet away, legs crossed, looking at Dean curiously.
With sudden realisation that the last time he was here Cas was laying the foundations for an orgy, Dean looks around quickly, checking to see if he has company.
“You don't have any women here, do you?” he asks.
“Is that a request or just a question?” Cas grins, standing gracefully and taking a few steps towards Dean, his bare feet silent on the floor.
“I didn't want to interrupt anything,” Dean replies, his eyes still flicking around the room before they have no choice but to rest on Cas.
Cas shrugs his shoulders, stopping a foot or so away from Dean. “No, it's just little old me in here. What's wrong?”
“I just-Um, it's just...very different out there. Everyone is so...fucked up. Chuck and-”
“Me?” Cas offers, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Me,” Dean replies.
“Oh, yeah,” Cas laughs lightly. “Yeah, you're a total jerk.”
“I don't want to end up like that,” Dean admits, leaning his head back against the door and closing his eyes, trying to compose himself. The warmth of Castiel's body against him is sudden, and though a little part of his head is amused that even as a man Cas can't respect personal space he's confused.
He opens his eyes and Cas' are there, brilliant and blue though his pupils are large and Dean can only assume it's from the drugs.
“It must be difficult for you,” Cas whispers. “To see yourself like that. To know that all of that is inside you.”
Something about the way Cas speaks makes Dean shiver slightly.
“It's inside you, it's something you can be, so reckless and unforgiving and driven. It must be tearing you up inside.”
Dean physically jumps when Castiel's finger presses against his chest, tracing a line down his sternum.
“I'm sorry you have to see yourself like this,” Cas continues as though there's absolutely nothing wrong with this scenario, with his closeness or his touching or his damn words. “I can't imagine how hard-” his hand drops and Dean twitches again, wondering where that hand is going to go and biting his lip when he feels the pressure against his hip. “-this is.”
When did Cas learn- who taught him-? Dean has a whole lot of questions that he doesn't suppose are ever going to be answered, especially since they're melting out of his brain the closer Cas gets. Christ, the man is completely intoxicating. And Dean can't even pretend it's because he doesn't recognise him as his friend. This is Cas. His eyes, his hair, the very soft, delicate shape of his face. Dean draws in a sharp breath because...soft, delicate shape of his face? Where the he-
The sharp breath slips into a lightly embarrassing whine when Cas presses against him, full bodied, hand resting on his ass.
“Cas- what-?”
He feels the brief slip of his gun being pulled out from the back of his jeans but he's powerless to do anything about it, slumping against the wall even when Cas pulls back and walks away, retreating quietly back to his pillows with Dean's gun in his hands.
“Cas?” Dean rasps, following every movement as Cas unlocks the barrel, spins it, checks the bullets and clips it back together. Cas presses the gun to the side of his head and Dean doesn't think he's ever moved as fast in his life, crossing the room and grabbing the hilt of the gun to wrest it away before Cas can blow his brains out.
Cas keeps hold of the barrel and though he lets Dean move back slightly he doesn't allow the gun to point away, the angle shifting from his temple to his face. And he has a good grip. Dean relents for a moment.
“You're fucking crazy,” he whispers, looking down into Cas' wide and deceptively innocent eyes.
“No,” Cas shakes his head. “This is how I stay sane. It reminds me I'm mortal now. It reminds me that any moment I could die. It stops me being reckless.” He manoeuvres himself onto his knees, never breaking eye contact with Dean even as he leans in and runs his tongue around the opening of the barrel, the tiniest smear of gunpowder marking his tongue.
Dean sucks in a breath, suddenly dizzy from the blood rushing down between his legs.
Parting his lips Cas leans in, sliding them an inch or so up the barrel before pulling back, no longer holding the gun in place, Dean realises. He's holding it, pointing it at Cas, keeping it steady as Cas' tongue and lips caress the metal, taking it into his mouth an inch at a time until most of the barrel is in his mouth and, Dean groans, must almost be hitting the back of his throat.
Cas pulls back and releases the gun which is now shiny from his saliva, but even that is painfully sexual.
“You know,” Cas whispers, running his tongue around the opening again. “You and I- the you in this time-” his tongue creeps a little further up the barrel, small and pink against the dark metal. “You fucked me.”
Dean groans again, not able to make himself feel guilty for using Cas in that way. And Cas doesn't really seem too bothered, wrapping his lips around the gun again, rocking backwards and forwards, working his mouth and tongue over the first few inches and Dean can practically feel the movements on his own cock.
“You held a gun to my head,” Cas whispers, back to flicking his tongue over the end of the gun, “and you told me to get on my knees and suck you off.” There is another smear of gunpowder on Cas' upper lip and Dean wants to clean it off with his own tongue. He's panting. “The gun wasn't necessary,” Cas begins to lick his way up the barrel, short sweeps of his tongue that get higher and higher and Dean thinks he's probably going to come in his pants if he watches this any longer. “I would always have done anything for you if you asked.” Cas' tongue sweeps up the final inch of the barrel until it brushes against the tip of Dean's index finger and then smoothly down the inside of it.
Dean sucks in another breath, letting the gun drop to the floor, giving it no more consideration as he shoves his fingers into Cas' hair and pulls him forward, pressing Cas' face against his crotch, against the bulge of his cock in his jeans. Cas moans, the vibration reaching Dean through the layers and pulling a similar sound from his lips.
“S'more like it, Dean,” Cas mumbles against the shape of Dean's dick, mouthing it's outline as his hands reach up to grip the other man's hips, turning Dean with ease and slamming him back against the wall. Dean goes without complaint, twisting his fingers in Cas' hair until he gasps, allowing an inch of room for Dean to ease his zipper down and free his aching cock. Cas doesn't even wait for Dean to slacken his grip, pushing forward and sliding his lips all the way down Dean's length.
“Oh fuck-” Dean gasps as he feels himself hit the back of Cas' throat, stars bursting behind his eyes when he realises that yeah, he's completely filling Cas' mouth and there are no complaints.
Cas slides back up Dean's dick, massaging his head with his tongue before pulling off. “I have no gag reflex,” he says with the dirtiest smirk. “Whatever you want, deep as you can get.”
Dean's eyes widen. “Cas-”
“I'm serious.” Cas says, his voice laced with serenity as he leans in, flicking his tongue over the tip of Dean's leaking cock. “Fuck my mouth if you want.”
“Oh, God-”
“Shh,” Cas shakes his head, parting his lips to take Dean back down his throat again.
Dean isn't not going to take advantage of this. He'd be a fool to pass it up. With one hand he braces himself against the wall, the other running through Cas' hair, holding him in place so that when Dean rocks his hips forward he slides deep into Cas' throat, the tip of his cock hitting the back of it each time. And Cas takes it. Oh, fuck, Cas takes it and he sounds like he loves it if the moans vibrating against his dick is anything to go by. His balls are tightening painfully and he's only thrust in to this tight heat a few times. He doesn't want to come yet.
“Stop, Cas-” Dean pulls him back roughly, groaning again as Cas hollows his cheeks on the way up, one last jolt of pleasure rocking through Dean before he can look the other man in the eyes.
“I thought you were enjoying it,” Cas whispers, his voice slightly rough and slightly shaky.
“Too much,” Dean shakes his head. “I don't want-”
“You're so different,” Cas muses, cutting Dean off mid sentence. “My two Dean's. So very different.” He flicks out his tongue again and laps up the bead of precome that is leaking from the end of Dean's dick. “He fucked me with his gun once-”
“What?” Dean squeaks, though his dick gives an interested jump and Cas reaches up and wraps his fingers around it, starting to jerk Dean off slowly.
“Yeah, it was- different. But who am I to argue?”
“Cas-” Dean thinks they should be having a serious conversation now and that he should be apologising for his behaviour, but it's very difficult to do that when Cas' rough fingers are stroking him just how he likes it. And he can only imagine why that is-
“I was on my hands and knees for- for you. Naked. You ran your gun up the inside of my thighs. And I- I didn't know you were going to do it. But it's as thick as your cock, so it fit easy enough.”
Dean is ashamed of the way his dick is leaking over Cas' fingers as he describes what happened, but he can't bring himself to tell the other man to stop. And Cas is just looking at him, looking up into his eyes, watching every reaction.
“You held me open and pushed it into me, and it was cold and hard. And you were rubbing your dick against my legs as you took me. You like the power, don't you?” Cas leans in and swipes his tongue over Dean's head once more, cleaning him up. “You called me angel every time. Every time you had me.”
Dean is so torn but his orgasm is building up really quickly and all he can think of is coming over Cas's hand.
“You were rough, you were rough but I loved it. And I asked you for more. And I asked for it harder. And you did it. And you told me how good I looked with it sliding into me. How good I looked stretched around it.”
“Cas-”
“You came over my thighs and then you pulled the trigger-”
“Fuck, Cas-”
“Made me come. I came so hard, Dean-”
Dean shoves Cas away from him, pushes him backwards and Cas looks surprised, which is the only reason Dean has the upper hand for now. He drops down to his knees and reaches for Cas' pants, tugging them down roughly and freeing Cas' erection. He sees the momentary flicker of sadness in Cas' eyes and knows that he only has himself to thank for that.
“Come here,” Dean growls, grabbing Cas' shirt and pulling him up, pulling him into his lap.
The sadness changes to shock and then before Cas can say or do anything else Dean pulls him in for a kiss.
It's the hottest and most bittersweet kiss he's ever experienced. Cas is hesitant at first but then his arms wind around Dean's shoulders and his fingers thread gently through his hair as Dean's hold him by the hips, stroking the jut of his bones with his thumbs. They both gasp in whatever breath they can whenever they can and their lips clash but Dean never wants to stop. His cock is bumping against Cas' belly and smearing his come over his skin, Cas' is rubbing against the denim of Dean's jeans and that is probably painful-
One of Cas' hands relocates, gripping Dean's shaft again and he wonders if Cas is going to jerk him off again, which would be amazing and he could totally deal with that right now. But Cas has other ideas and Dean feels him lift his body up, feels with sudden shock the tightness of Cas' body as his entrance stretches around him.
“Cas-” Dean's protest cannot even be called that, but Cas has had no preparation and he can't keep hurting him. But fuck if Cas doesn't feel good like this with his legs wrapped around him and his fingers returning to Dean's hair, forcefully rejoining their lips. They kiss until the breath has left them, interspersed by moans and gasps as Cas rocks his hips, riding Dean, his muscles gripping and trembling around Dean's aching cock. Dean's hand slides from Cas' hip and wraps around his dick, stroking him in time with the motion of their bodies. He was already so close, the moans of pleasure Cas pants out are driving him crazy and they've barely gotten started before he feels his orgasm pulse through him, his head slamming back against the wall as he comes harder than he can ever remember. The feeling of Dean coming, the way the other man's cock pulses inside him means that Cas joins him seconds later, releasing over Dean's hand and shirt. The kisses slow, the gripping and the touching becomes more tender.
Their lips part with the softest sound and they both open their eyes. Cas' still hold the whole universe in them, angel or not, and Dean wants to rip him from this world and carry him home.
“There's the man I love,” Cas whispers, sadness clouding over the universe, stroking his fingers down the side of Dean's face. “I miss you.”
Dean shakes his head, unable to say anything, wrapping his arms around Cas' back and holding him close. “I'm sorry,” he replies after what feels like an hour, a year. Four years and this will be their life.