Supernatural, Dean / Castiel, NC-17
Title: And a Bow on Top
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Summary: Castiel finds himself wrapped up for Christmas.
Warnings: PWP, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 4,365
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Based on this prompt from bauble's Spreading Holiday Cheer Dean/Castiel Commentfic Meme. This has not been beta'd, so feel free to point out mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Supernatural or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
“Have you seen Cas lately?” Dean asks Sam as he finishes cleaning one of his guns with an old rag.
“Why would I see him? You’re his B-F-F, not me.”
Dean stares at Sam, hoping that his irritation shows in his eyes, but his concern eventually gives way.
“I haven’t seen him since Mississippi; do you think he’s okay?”
“Cas is a big boy, Dean, I’m sure he can take care of himself. Why not just give him a call? He has a phone for a reason, you know.”
Dean pulls a face. “I’m not going to be that person, Sam, but if you want to be, go for it.”
Sam laughs at him and shakes his head. “I’m not calling him for you; what are you, eight?”
Dean glares again, but sets the gun on the bed and reaches into his jean pocket to take out his phone. He walks to the motel door, while searching for Castiel in his contacts. The air outside is cold enough to make him glad that he’s wearing his jacket. Holding the dialling phone between his ear and shoulder, Dean zips his coat up and waits for Castiel to answer. It’s Christmas eve and Dean wants to see if perhaps Castiel will spend Christmas day with them because Dean knows Castiel has never been a part of a Winchester Christmas celebration, which is almost blasphemy in Dean’s mind. He also might have bought Castiel a present - well, it’s just a keychain from some 7-11 he and Sam stopped at back in Missouri that says Never drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s the thought that counts, and hopefully Cas’ll see the humour in it.
The phone continues to ring and Dean takes to watching his breath cloud around his face in misty swirls. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if it started snowing, but hopefully the weather will wait until he’s back inside the warm motel room before that happens. The area around them is pretty quiet; they’re nowhere near a freeway, which makes a nice change. Dean can hear the rustling of tree branches in the wind and - wait, is that a phone ringing?
He pulls his own cell phone away from his ear, making sure it’s not just an echo, but, no, the ringing continues and it sounds like it isn’t too far away. Either that’s Cas’ answering phone, or it’s an eerie coincidence. He keeps his phone open and walks carefully towards the parking lot, where the noise seems to grow louder. Dean spins in a full circle in confusion, trying to place the noise, because it seems to be coming from the trunk of his car, and that can’t be right.
He flips his phone closed and tucks it into his pants, while he digs for his car keys in his jacket pocket. His fingers apparently don’t want to cooperate in their cold state, as it takes him a few tries to get the key in the trunk’s lock, but he eventually does. Before he opens the trunk, he wonders belatedly whether he should go back inside and get a gun, but he thinks it’s too late now. Waiting for the worst, Dean lifts the trunk door and holds his breath as the light from the parking lot streetlamps filters in.
“Cas?” he says completely shocked. He’d thought that perhaps Castiel’s phone had just accidentally been left in their car, he wasn’t really expecting its owner to also be there. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with the situation.
“Why are you naked?” he asks, with wide eyes. “Are those Christmas bows?”
Castiel stares back at him with a look on his face that tells Dean that never in a million years did he think he’d be in such a situation. Part of him feels sorry for Castiel, but the other half kind of wants to take a picture of him with his phone and send it en mass to everyone in his address book. The funniness of the situation drains as Dean begins to panic over whether Castiel is okay or not; he’s looking kind of pale.
“Are you hurt, Cas?”
Castiel shakes his head, but doesn’t answer, just lets out a muffled noise. It’s then that Dean notices the thick cotton ribbon being used as a gag, secured around Castiel’s head. He quickly reaches into the trunk and undoes it, dropping the saliva-covered cloth next to Castiel’s head.
“Thank you, Dean; I was afraid I would be trapped in here all night.”
Dean nods distractedly, focussing more on trying not to let his eyes roam over Castiel’s pale, naked body. His attempts aren’t successful and he finds himself running his eyes over Castiel’s chest, taking note of the freckles scattered here and there. His eyes are drawn to Castiel’s pert nipples and it isn’t until then that he realises how cold Castiel must be.
“Shit, Cas, you must be freezing! I’m sure there’s a blanket in this trunk somewhere, hang on...” he trails off as he leans further into the trunk and starts rummaging around for the throw he knows is probably gathering dust in the dark recesses somewhere in there. He’s reaching into one of the corners when it finally dawns on him how close he actually is to Castiel. His chest rubs against Castiel’s own and even through his own clothes he can feel the body heat being thrown off Castiel. He bites his tongue and moves his hand to the other corner. This just brings Dean closer to the other end of Castiel, which Dean would really rather see in another situation, one that doesn’t involve bondage and car trunks. With a small triumphant sound, Dean pulls back with a woollen blanket in his fist.
He drapes it over most of Castiel’s body then reaches into his pocket for his switchblade. He tries cutting the bows around Castiel’s feet first, but the knife doesn’t seem to do much damage. He saws at the material for a few more seconds, until he’s completely sure that he’s not going mad and that the blade isn’t blunt.
“Uh, Cas, why can’t I cut these?”
When Castiel fails to meet his eyes, he knows it’s not a good sign. Things don’t bode well when even Castiel is ashamed. Dean thinks it might be better if he just gets Castiel into the motel room, first things first, then they can sort out their problem when they have a little more privacy. He flicks his pocketknife closed then slips it into his coat.
“Right, Cas, I’m going to get you into our room, okay? One, because it’s colder than Lucifer’s heart out here, and two, because I think we could both use a drink before we start cracking these bonds.”
He doesn’t even wait for Castiel to nod, just reaches into the trunk and tucks one arm behind Castiel’s knees and the other around Castiel’s back. The skin he touches seems to burn with heat through the sleeves of Dean’s jacket and Dean fights with himself internally as he tells himself he needs to be more business-like while he carries Castiel. There’s no way the thought of newlyweds crossing the threshold should even enter his mind.
Castiel is lighter than Dean thought he’d be; he guesses the suit and long coat Castiel usually wears bulks him up a bit, makes him look bigger than he actually is. With Castiel out of the trunk, Dean is left wondering how on Earth he’ll close and lock the car again, and he spends a good few seconds just staring. As though reading his mind, Castiel straightens his legs and uses his bound ankles to pull the trunk lid down until it clicks into place. Dean awkwardly moves closer to the car so he can take the keys out, which he manages to do, but at the same time, he accidentally presses Castiel against the cold metallic bumper, eliciting a sharp hiss, which Dean really didn’t expect to hear from someone like Castiel.
“Sorry,” he says lamely, pulling Castiel away from the car and quickly walking them back to the motel room. Castiel uses his bare feet again as he kicks the door to knock and after a few seconds, Sam answers the door looking highly confused.
“Wha-?” he starts, but Dean just pushes him away as he carries Castiel to the nearest bed. He lets him down gently and makes sure the blanket over him still covers everything. The first thing he does after that is grab his duffel bag, from which he withdraws a hip flask. He takes a long sip then tilts it towards Castiel as an offering; Castiel shakes his head slightly and politely declines. Even freezing and tied up, Castiel still remembers his manners.
Dean tosses the flask back into his bag then moves to sit at the foot of the bed Castiel’s lying on.
“So, you want to tell us what happened?” Dean asks, not really sure if he wants to hear the answer.
Castiel stares at the ceiling and his face slowly reddens.
“Sam, can I ask you to leave your brother and I alone for a while?”
Dean can practically hear the eye roll that comes from Sam in response, but luckily he doesn’t put up too much of a fight. With a sigh he says he’ll go grab some food in the diner across the street and leaves with Dean’s wallet - which Dean doesn’t realise until the door slams behind Sam and it’s too late to call him back. He makes a mental note to short sheet Sam’s bed before he comes back.
Dean clears his throat. “So, uh, Cas?”
Castiel doesn’t say anything for a while, just continues staring, but then he shifts, rolling awkwardly onto his side, causing the blanket to slide off his upper half. Dean, thinking it’s just an accident, moves to tug it back into place, but Castiel stops him with a look.
“It was a Trickster,” he starts, and that’s when Dean notices Castiel’s back.
There’s a large smudged handprint between Castiel’s shoulder blades, then written in large, alternating green and red letters below is the phrase Merry Xmas xoxo. The penmanship is childishly sloppy, like some third grader has finger-painted the message across Castiel’s skin, but Dean knows better.
“What did it want from you? Didn’t it know you were an angel and that you could have smote its ass in a second if you had wanted to?”
“Yes, I believe it did, however, it didn’t seem to care.”
“Apparently,” Dean says under his breath, as he pulls the blanket back over Castiel’s body. As much as he might want to continue to stare at Castiel’s bare flesh, he’d rather not draw attention to the elephant in the room.
“So, what’s with these bonds, Cas?” Dean asks, running a finger over one of the bands looped over Castiel’s slightly exposed shoulder.
“The Trickster said he’d infused the bows with mistletoe extract and something a little more potent - he never did name what it was - but I am unable to use my powers to break free. Are you familiar with mistletoe and the traditions surrounding it?”
It takes Dean a few beats to catch up, but essentially, he realises that Castiel is telling him they need to kiss for the bows to let Castiel go. Wow, that’s not awkward at all, he thinks, rubbing his neck in discomfort.
“Yeah, I know about mistletoe,” he admits and Castiel looks expectantly at him, as if waiting for him to do something. “Sorry, why couldn’t Sam do this? Why me?”
Castiel looks more unsure of himself than Dean’s ever seen, but he relents. “If given the choice to kiss either you or Sam, I would have to pick you. It’s not because I dislike Sam, but because I feel more comfortable with you. I trust you, Dean, even with something as simple as this.”
Something as simple as this - right, that’s just what Dean needs to remember; one small kiss and Castiel’ll be freed, except it’s not that simple because nothing ever is in Dean’s life. He’s still waiting for the curveball life will throw him.
“That’s all I have to do, then?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
After a few calming breaths, Dean scoots towards Castiel’s head and peers down at him. Castiel looks back up at him with a neutral face, but his eyes say to Dean that everything is okay, that there’s nothing to it. Setting his hands either side of Castiel’s head, he leans down until he can see every hair and line on Castiel’s face, then he shuts his eyes and presses his lips to Castiel’s own.
It’s a very simple action, just as Castiel said. It’s a chaste kiss without any hidden undertones and Dean actually enjoys it, except after a few seconds, Castiel parts his lips - probably just to tell Dean that he can feel the bows loosening, or just to tell him to stop - and Dean is offered a brief taste of the inside of Castiel’s mouth. Without really thinking, Dean mirrors Castiel’s open lips, then slips his tongue gently into the sweet space. Castiel unexpectedly seems eager to respond; he slides their tongues together and then gently nibbling at Dean’s lower lip. Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same again. Dean reckons angels don’t kiss human often for this very reason; no other kiss will ever compare.
One of Castiel’s hands comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head, but it takes more than a few seconds for Dean to realise that it means Castiel’s free and that they can stop kissing. With a jolt he pulls back, breathing hard and staring at Castiel, who’s shut his eyes and looks almost like he’s sleeping; his face is more peaceful and relaxed than ever before.
Dean curses his luck because whatever he touches seems to become more twisted and complicated than he ever thought possible, and this is no exception because now he’s left with a dilemma. Should he pull back and pretend everything’s okay, or move in for seconds? He did enjoy it and the look on Castiel’s face blatantly says that he agrees, but there’s really no point because Castiel’s free now, so there are no more real excuses, though, think about it, Dean realises that he knows quite a few fictional ones instead.
“I think I should kiss you again, just to make sure those bows have really freed you,” Dean whispers tentatively.
There’s a short pause before Castiel says, “You can never be too careful,” and that’s all Dean needs to hear before he leans down to drop another kiss, then another and one more, just for good luck, against Castiel’s lips.
“I’ll just kiss you all over, to be safe,” Dean says, voice slightly muffled as he refuses to stop kissing Castiel, even while speaking.
Dean moves from Castiel’s lips, down his jaw, where he nips lightly at the skin with his teeth and Castiel starts letting out soft breaths that turn Dean on probably more than they should, but having Castiel finally lose control is definitely high up on his Christmas list. His lips find their way to Castiel’s ear and his tongue darts out to trace around the shell of it, before running down to the lobe, where his teeth join in the fun.
Castiel arches off the bed slightly; Dean can feel his chest pressing into his own, but then Dean remembers that all Cas has on is a thin blanket and his right hand slips under the side of it so he can trace his fingers down Castiel’s side. Castiel’s body is warm and pliant under his hands and he can’t stop himself from wanting to see more. With a moan of annoyance from Castiel, Dean pulls away, pausing to kick his shoes off, before he climbs onto the bed fully. Castiel watches him, looking vaguely intrigued, as Dean gently starts to tug the blanket down Castiel’s body, exposing more and more wonderfully smooth, fair skin. When Castiel’s chest is fully uncovered, Dean quickly pulls the loose bows away from Castiel’s body, throwing them over the side of the bed to be cleaned up later. There are red pressure marks where the once tight bonds sat, rubbing against Castiel’s skin, and Dean begins tracing them with his tongue.
He starts at Castiel’s left shoulder, biting gently because it’s just too tempting, then he moves down between Castiel’s nipples and then around to Castiel’s side. All he can hear from Castiel is heavy breathing, but that’s okay with him, because it’s like positive reinforcement to his ears.
Dean slips the blanket further off Castiel’s body, finally reaching his waist - where he removes another set of bows - and drawing a louder moan from Castiel as the blanket slides roughly over his cock. Castiel’s already hard and leaking when Dean exposes him fully, letting the blanket slither over the side of the bed, falling to a puddle on the floor as gravity takes over.
“Dean,” Castiel moans, and, god, if that doesn’t send spikes of pleasure straight through his body.
Dean presses open-mouthed kisses along the tops of Castiel’s thighs, teasing the angel far more than he probably should - Castiel could still smite him, though, hopefully he’d wait until after. Surprisingly, one of Castiel’s hands grabs the back of Dean’s head and with a strength Dean can’t fight against, moves his mouth closer to where he really wants it. Dean takes the hint and laps gently around the base of Castiel’s cock before tracing his lips up the side and stretching his mouth around the head when he finally gets there. A thrumming power flows through Castiel - Dean can feel it move over and around and all the way through his own body - and Dean realises that Castiel is stopping himself from bucking up into his mouth and choking him; Dean appreciates the gesture, but doesn’t stop tormenting Castiel with his tongue. He rubs his palms against Castiel’s hips and, for the first time, glances up at Castiel’s face. His eyes are clenched shut tightly and his mouth is slack and open. His cheeks are flushed red from the exertion of holding back and Dean likes to think that the look suits him; Dean definitely needs to make sure he wears it more often in the future.
After Castiel gasps particularly loud, Dean pulls his mouth away, fearing that Castiel could come too soon. He watches as Castiel’s eyes fly open in protest, but just sends him a trademark Dean Winchester smirk. Realising that Castiel’s feet are still tied together, Dean slips down to the end of the bed and finally removes the last of the bows around Castiel’s body.
“It was a good look for you, Cas,” Dean admits, dropping the bow on the floor with the others. With the last bond gone, Castiel has room to move around, except, instead of being human about it, there’s a flurry of movement - at one point Dean has no clue where he is exactly, or even if he’s still in the motel room - and Dean finds himself across the room, pinned to the wall by a very naked Castiel. It also seems that his own clothes have vanished in the move.
“Are you meant to use your powers for that?” Dean asks, knowing how much it would rile Castiel.
“You’re just lucky that I didn’t feel like adding in Christmas bows.”
“Touché,” Dean responds, his body going rather limp as Castiel rocks their hips together. There’s no hesitation in Castiel’s actions as he crashes his lips together with Dean’s with such force that Dean’s head knocks into the wall behind. It results in their teeth clashing together painfully and Dean hisses into Castiel’s open mouth. Castiel’s hands grip Dean’s hips tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh on his sides.
That’ll bruise, Dean thinks briefly. He never expected Castiel to be so rough, but then again, Cas is one of God’s many soldiers, so it makes sense in a roundabout sort of way.
Dean blinks and when he opens his eyes again, he’s flat on his back on the nearest bed, with Castiel straddling his waist, leaning over his prone form. God, he loves Castiel’s powers right now. He pulls Castiel down for another kiss and smiles his appreciation against Castiel’s lips.
Castiel rocks his hips gently, rubbing their cocks together torturously slow. Dean grabs a hold of the backs of Castiel’s thighs, pressing his blunt nails into the skin there, but even when he digs in as hard as he can, Castiel doesn’t even let out a breath of pain.
“Let me fuck you, Cas,” Dean says around Castiel’s tongue and Castiel lets out a groan; was that a yes, or a no?
As if to answer Dean’s unvoiced question, Castiel pulls back.
“Wait here,” he tells Dean before vanishing into thin air. Dean grunts in both surprise at Castiel disappearing and unhappiness at the loss of friction against his body. Before the noise even finishes leaving his mouth, Castiel is back leaning over him, his face even more red and flushed and his body thrumming with a need that Dean can feel radiating from him.
“Where did you-?” Dean starts, but before he can get the whole question out, Castiel kneels and positions himself over Dean’s cock. Without pausing, he lowers himself and Dean feels himself slide easily inside Castiel’s entrance. Oh god, Castiel disappeared so he could prepare himself for Dean.
Dean has to place a hand on Castiel’s hip and stop him from sinking down lower because he’s two seconds away from coming at the image in his mind of Castiel slipping his own lube-covered fingers inside himself and spreading himself open for Dean.
“Cas, goddamn, you’re going to be the death of me,” Dean complains, his voice raw and broken with lust. Castiel just lets his head fall back as he sinks the rest of the way down, despite Dean’s grip.
Castiel’s so hot and tight around him, and it’s better than anything he could have imagined. Castiel makes hardly any noise as he begins to rock in Dean’s lap and it makes Dean want to flip them over so he can pound into Castiel and make him moan until he’s hoarse. Castiel begins to pick up speed, rising and falling in a way that makes Dean sure his knees must be aching, but nothing is said and the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin.
After a few minutes, Castiel moves one of his hands to his own cock, pulling and stroking himself as he tries to push himself further onto Dean. Dean can see Castiel’s body tensing and knows he’s close to the edge. With a move that has been perfected over time, Dean rolls them over, until Castiel is the one on his back and Dean is the one hovering above him. Without missing a beat, Castiel wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, digging his heels into Dean’s back for support, and Dean begins to thrust into him.
Castiel looks glorious spread out below him with his bruised lips and flaming cheeks. His blue eyes bore into Dean as he silently begs Dean for more, which Dean is more than happy to supply. Dean slips a hand under one of Castiel’s thighs and hitches him up at an angle. The first thrust after the change draws a shocked gasp from Castiel and after a few more, Castiel becomes incoherent under him, tossing his head from side to side, as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, as if he’s beside himself with pleasure. Dean sees this as a victory for himself and he leans down to swallow up Castiel’s whimpers as he covers Castiel’s mouth with his own.
Castiel’s still stroking himself between their bodies, but he stops as he uses both his hands to grip the comforter with such force that Dean almost thinks Castiel will come away with two handfuls of ripped bedding if he’d not careful. Dean pulls back to watch as Castiel shuts his eyes and pushes his head back into the pillows.
“Dean!” Castiel cries as he orgasms against both of their stomachs.
It’s the hottest thing Dean has ever heard in his life and it pulls him roughly after Castiel, like water down a drain.
“Cas,” he sobs quietly, coming deep inside Castiel, who moans Dean’s name again, probably at the feeling of spreading warmth inside him.
After a few shaky seconds, Dean’s arms give way and he lands on top of Castiel with a loud exhale of breath. Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice the extra weight, just wraps his arms around Dean’s back and shudders gently beneath him, coming down from his high.
“Thank you, Dean,” he says, chest rumbling against Dean’s from his deep voice. “I’m sure those bows will not be able to reattach themselves to my body now, but I feel safer knowing you have surpassed the needed requirements.”
In Dean’s mind, this is Castiel saying, “Holy crap, that was hot! We should do it more often,” which Dean has to agree with.
He gently pulls out of Castiel and rolls into the space next to him. They lie staring at the ceiling for a few moments before the cold starts to dig under Dean’s skin and the drying come on his stomach starts to itch. Castiel is the first one to sit up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and giving Dean another view of his painted back.
Dean reaches out and traces a finger over the dyed skin.
“Isn’t it bad form to open presents early, Cas?”
Castiel turns his head to look at Dean.
“You can unwrap me again tomorrow, if it would please you.”
Dean grins, folding his arms behind his head, and thinks he’s never been this excited for Christmas arrive. He’ll have to remember to thank the Trickster later, because Castiel is the best present he’s ever received.
Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel
Summary: Castiel finds himself wrapped up for Christmas.
Warnings: PWP, explicit sexual content.
Author: blacktofade
Words: 4,365
Rating: NC-17
A/N: Based on this prompt from bauble's Spreading Holiday Cheer Dean/Castiel Commentfic Meme. This has not been beta'd, so feel free to point out mistakes/offer concrit.
Disclaimer: I am not associated with Supernatural or any of their affiliates. I don't mean any harm, this is all made up.
“Have you seen Cas lately?” Dean asks Sam as he finishes cleaning one of his guns with an old rag.
“Why would I see him? You’re his B-F-F, not me.”
Dean stares at Sam, hoping that his irritation shows in his eyes, but his concern eventually gives way.
“I haven’t seen him since Mississippi; do you think he’s okay?”
“Cas is a big boy, Dean, I’m sure he can take care of himself. Why not just give him a call? He has a phone for a reason, you know.”
Dean pulls a face. “I’m not going to be that person, Sam, but if you want to be, go for it.”
Sam laughs at him and shakes his head. “I’m not calling him for you; what are you, eight?”
Dean glares again, but sets the gun on the bed and reaches into his jean pocket to take out his phone. He walks to the motel door, while searching for Castiel in his contacts. The air outside is cold enough to make him glad that he’s wearing his jacket. Holding the dialling phone between his ear and shoulder, Dean zips his coat up and waits for Castiel to answer. It’s Christmas eve and Dean wants to see if perhaps Castiel will spend Christmas day with them because Dean knows Castiel has never been a part of a Winchester Christmas celebration, which is almost blasphemy in Dean’s mind. He also might have bought Castiel a present - well, it’s just a keychain from some 7-11 he and Sam stopped at back in Missouri that says Never drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly, but that’s neither here nor there. It’s the thought that counts, and hopefully Cas’ll see the humour in it.
The phone continues to ring and Dean takes to watching his breath cloud around his face in misty swirls. Dean wouldn’t be surprised if it started snowing, but hopefully the weather will wait until he’s back inside the warm motel room before that happens. The area around them is pretty quiet; they’re nowhere near a freeway, which makes a nice change. Dean can hear the rustling of tree branches in the wind and - wait, is that a phone ringing?
He pulls his own cell phone away from his ear, making sure it’s not just an echo, but, no, the ringing continues and it sounds like it isn’t too far away. Either that’s Cas’ answering phone, or it’s an eerie coincidence. He keeps his phone open and walks carefully towards the parking lot, where the noise seems to grow louder. Dean spins in a full circle in confusion, trying to place the noise, because it seems to be coming from the trunk of his car, and that can’t be right.
He flips his phone closed and tucks it into his pants, while he digs for his car keys in his jacket pocket. His fingers apparently don’t want to cooperate in their cold state, as it takes him a few tries to get the key in the trunk’s lock, but he eventually does. Before he opens the trunk, he wonders belatedly whether he should go back inside and get a gun, but he thinks it’s too late now. Waiting for the worst, Dean lifts the trunk door and holds his breath as the light from the parking lot streetlamps filters in.
“Cas?” he says completely shocked. He’d thought that perhaps Castiel’s phone had just accidentally been left in their car, he wasn’t really expecting its owner to also be there. It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with the situation.
“Why are you naked?” he asks, with wide eyes. “Are those Christmas bows?”
Castiel stares back at him with a look on his face that tells Dean that never in a million years did he think he’d be in such a situation. Part of him feels sorry for Castiel, but the other half kind of wants to take a picture of him with his phone and send it en mass to everyone in his address book. The funniness of the situation drains as Dean begins to panic over whether Castiel is okay or not; he’s looking kind of pale.
“Are you hurt, Cas?”
Castiel shakes his head, but doesn’t answer, just lets out a muffled noise. It’s then that Dean notices the thick cotton ribbon being used as a gag, secured around Castiel’s head. He quickly reaches into the trunk and undoes it, dropping the saliva-covered cloth next to Castiel’s head.
“Thank you, Dean; I was afraid I would be trapped in here all night.”
Dean nods distractedly, focussing more on trying not to let his eyes roam over Castiel’s pale, naked body. His attempts aren’t successful and he finds himself running his eyes over Castiel’s chest, taking note of the freckles scattered here and there. His eyes are drawn to Castiel’s pert nipples and it isn’t until then that he realises how cold Castiel must be.
“Shit, Cas, you must be freezing! I’m sure there’s a blanket in this trunk somewhere, hang on...” he trails off as he leans further into the trunk and starts rummaging around for the throw he knows is probably gathering dust in the dark recesses somewhere in there. He’s reaching into one of the corners when it finally dawns on him how close he actually is to Castiel. His chest rubs against Castiel’s own and even through his own clothes he can feel the body heat being thrown off Castiel. He bites his tongue and moves his hand to the other corner. This just brings Dean closer to the other end of Castiel, which Dean would really rather see in another situation, one that doesn’t involve bondage and car trunks. With a small triumphant sound, Dean pulls back with a woollen blanket in his fist.
He drapes it over most of Castiel’s body then reaches into his pocket for his switchblade. He tries cutting the bows around Castiel’s feet first, but the knife doesn’t seem to do much damage. He saws at the material for a few more seconds, until he’s completely sure that he’s not going mad and that the blade isn’t blunt.
“Uh, Cas, why can’t I cut these?”
When Castiel fails to meet his eyes, he knows it’s not a good sign. Things don’t bode well when even Castiel is ashamed. Dean thinks it might be better if he just gets Castiel into the motel room, first things first, then they can sort out their problem when they have a little more privacy. He flicks his pocketknife closed then slips it into his coat.
“Right, Cas, I’m going to get you into our room, okay? One, because it’s colder than Lucifer’s heart out here, and two, because I think we could both use a drink before we start cracking these bonds.”
He doesn’t even wait for Castiel to nod, just reaches into the trunk and tucks one arm behind Castiel’s knees and the other around Castiel’s back. The skin he touches seems to burn with heat through the sleeves of Dean’s jacket and Dean fights with himself internally as he tells himself he needs to be more business-like while he carries Castiel. There’s no way the thought of newlyweds crossing the threshold should even enter his mind.
Castiel is lighter than Dean thought he’d be; he guesses the suit and long coat Castiel usually wears bulks him up a bit, makes him look bigger than he actually is. With Castiel out of the trunk, Dean is left wondering how on Earth he’ll close and lock the car again, and he spends a good few seconds just staring. As though reading his mind, Castiel straightens his legs and uses his bound ankles to pull the trunk lid down until it clicks into place. Dean awkwardly moves closer to the car so he can take the keys out, which he manages to do, but at the same time, he accidentally presses Castiel against the cold metallic bumper, eliciting a sharp hiss, which Dean really didn’t expect to hear from someone like Castiel.
“Sorry,” he says lamely, pulling Castiel away from the car and quickly walking them back to the motel room. Castiel uses his bare feet again as he kicks the door to knock and after a few seconds, Sam answers the door looking highly confused.
“Wha-?” he starts, but Dean just pushes him away as he carries Castiel to the nearest bed. He lets him down gently and makes sure the blanket over him still covers everything. The first thing he does after that is grab his duffel bag, from which he withdraws a hip flask. He takes a long sip then tilts it towards Castiel as an offering; Castiel shakes his head slightly and politely declines. Even freezing and tied up, Castiel still remembers his manners.
Dean tosses the flask back into his bag then moves to sit at the foot of the bed Castiel’s lying on.
“So, you want to tell us what happened?” Dean asks, not really sure if he wants to hear the answer.
Castiel stares at the ceiling and his face slowly reddens.
“Sam, can I ask you to leave your brother and I alone for a while?”
Dean can practically hear the eye roll that comes from Sam in response, but luckily he doesn’t put up too much of a fight. With a sigh he says he’ll go grab some food in the diner across the street and leaves with Dean’s wallet - which Dean doesn’t realise until the door slams behind Sam and it’s too late to call him back. He makes a mental note to short sheet Sam’s bed before he comes back.
Dean clears his throat. “So, uh, Cas?”
Castiel doesn’t say anything for a while, just continues staring, but then he shifts, rolling awkwardly onto his side, causing the blanket to slide off his upper half. Dean, thinking it’s just an accident, moves to tug it back into place, but Castiel stops him with a look.
“It was a Trickster,” he starts, and that’s when Dean notices Castiel’s back.
There’s a large smudged handprint between Castiel’s shoulder blades, then written in large, alternating green and red letters below is the phrase Merry Xmas xoxo. The penmanship is childishly sloppy, like some third grader has finger-painted the message across Castiel’s skin, but Dean knows better.
“What did it want from you? Didn’t it know you were an angel and that you could have smote its ass in a second if you had wanted to?”
“Yes, I believe it did, however, it didn’t seem to care.”
“Apparently,” Dean says under his breath, as he pulls the blanket back over Castiel’s body. As much as he might want to continue to stare at Castiel’s bare flesh, he’d rather not draw attention to the elephant in the room.
“So, what’s with these bonds, Cas?” Dean asks, running a finger over one of the bands looped over Castiel’s slightly exposed shoulder.
“The Trickster said he’d infused the bows with mistletoe extract and something a little more potent - he never did name what it was - but I am unable to use my powers to break free. Are you familiar with mistletoe and the traditions surrounding it?”
It takes Dean a few beats to catch up, but essentially, he realises that Castiel is telling him they need to kiss for the bows to let Castiel go. Wow, that’s not awkward at all, he thinks, rubbing his neck in discomfort.
“Yeah, I know about mistletoe,” he admits and Castiel looks expectantly at him, as if waiting for him to do something. “Sorry, why couldn’t Sam do this? Why me?”
Castiel looks more unsure of himself than Dean’s ever seen, but he relents. “If given the choice to kiss either you or Sam, I would have to pick you. It’s not because I dislike Sam, but because I feel more comfortable with you. I trust you, Dean, even with something as simple as this.”
Something as simple as this - right, that’s just what Dean needs to remember; one small kiss and Castiel’ll be freed, except it’s not that simple because nothing ever is in Dean’s life. He’s still waiting for the curveball life will throw him.
“That’s all I have to do, then?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
After a few calming breaths, Dean scoots towards Castiel’s head and peers down at him. Castiel looks back up at him with a neutral face, but his eyes say to Dean that everything is okay, that there’s nothing to it. Setting his hands either side of Castiel’s head, he leans down until he can see every hair and line on Castiel’s face, then he shuts his eyes and presses his lips to Castiel’s own.
It’s a very simple action, just as Castiel said. It’s a chaste kiss without any hidden undertones and Dean actually enjoys it, except after a few seconds, Castiel parts his lips - probably just to tell Dean that he can feel the bows loosening, or just to tell him to stop - and Dean is offered a brief taste of the inside of Castiel’s mouth. Without really thinking, Dean mirrors Castiel’s open lips, then slips his tongue gently into the sweet space. Castiel unexpectedly seems eager to respond; he slides their tongues together and then gently nibbling at Dean’s lower lip. Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever be the same again. Dean reckons angels don’t kiss human often for this very reason; no other kiss will ever compare.
One of Castiel’s hands comes up to cup the back of Dean’s head, but it takes more than a few seconds for Dean to realise that it means Castiel’s free and that they can stop kissing. With a jolt he pulls back, breathing hard and staring at Castiel, who’s shut his eyes and looks almost like he’s sleeping; his face is more peaceful and relaxed than ever before.
Dean curses his luck because whatever he touches seems to become more twisted and complicated than he ever thought possible, and this is no exception because now he’s left with a dilemma. Should he pull back and pretend everything’s okay, or move in for seconds? He did enjoy it and the look on Castiel’s face blatantly says that he agrees, but there’s really no point because Castiel’s free now, so there are no more real excuses, though, think about it, Dean realises that he knows quite a few fictional ones instead.
“I think I should kiss you again, just to make sure those bows have really freed you,” Dean whispers tentatively.
There’s a short pause before Castiel says, “You can never be too careful,” and that’s all Dean needs to hear before he leans down to drop another kiss, then another and one more, just for good luck, against Castiel’s lips.
“I’ll just kiss you all over, to be safe,” Dean says, voice slightly muffled as he refuses to stop kissing Castiel, even while speaking.
Dean moves from Castiel’s lips, down his jaw, where he nips lightly at the skin with his teeth and Castiel starts letting out soft breaths that turn Dean on probably more than they should, but having Castiel finally lose control is definitely high up on his Christmas list. His lips find their way to Castiel’s ear and his tongue darts out to trace around the shell of it, before running down to the lobe, where his teeth join in the fun.
Castiel arches off the bed slightly; Dean can feel his chest pressing into his own, but then Dean remembers that all Cas has on is a thin blanket and his right hand slips under the side of it so he can trace his fingers down Castiel’s side. Castiel’s body is warm and pliant under his hands and he can’t stop himself from wanting to see more. With a moan of annoyance from Castiel, Dean pulls away, pausing to kick his shoes off, before he climbs onto the bed fully. Castiel watches him, looking vaguely intrigued, as Dean gently starts to tug the blanket down Castiel’s body, exposing more and more wonderfully smooth, fair skin. When Castiel’s chest is fully uncovered, Dean quickly pulls the loose bows away from Castiel’s body, throwing them over the side of the bed to be cleaned up later. There are red pressure marks where the once tight bonds sat, rubbing against Castiel’s skin, and Dean begins tracing them with his tongue.
He starts at Castiel’s left shoulder, biting gently because it’s just too tempting, then he moves down between Castiel’s nipples and then around to Castiel’s side. All he can hear from Castiel is heavy breathing, but that’s okay with him, because it’s like positive reinforcement to his ears.
Dean slips the blanket further off Castiel’s body, finally reaching his waist - where he removes another set of bows - and drawing a louder moan from Castiel as the blanket slides roughly over his cock. Castiel’s already hard and leaking when Dean exposes him fully, letting the blanket slither over the side of the bed, falling to a puddle on the floor as gravity takes over.
“Dean,” Castiel moans, and, god, if that doesn’t send spikes of pleasure straight through his body.
Dean presses open-mouthed kisses along the tops of Castiel’s thighs, teasing the angel far more than he probably should - Castiel could still smite him, though, hopefully he’d wait until after. Surprisingly, one of Castiel’s hands grabs the back of Dean’s head and with a strength Dean can’t fight against, moves his mouth closer to where he really wants it. Dean takes the hint and laps gently around the base of Castiel’s cock before tracing his lips up the side and stretching his mouth around the head when he finally gets there. A thrumming power flows through Castiel - Dean can feel it move over and around and all the way through his own body - and Dean realises that Castiel is stopping himself from bucking up into his mouth and choking him; Dean appreciates the gesture, but doesn’t stop tormenting Castiel with his tongue. He rubs his palms against Castiel’s hips and, for the first time, glances up at Castiel’s face. His eyes are clenched shut tightly and his mouth is slack and open. His cheeks are flushed red from the exertion of holding back and Dean likes to think that the look suits him; Dean definitely needs to make sure he wears it more often in the future.
After Castiel gasps particularly loud, Dean pulls his mouth away, fearing that Castiel could come too soon. He watches as Castiel’s eyes fly open in protest, but just sends him a trademark Dean Winchester smirk. Realising that Castiel’s feet are still tied together, Dean slips down to the end of the bed and finally removes the last of the bows around Castiel’s body.
“It was a good look for you, Cas,” Dean admits, dropping the bow on the floor with the others. With the last bond gone, Castiel has room to move around, except, instead of being human about it, there’s a flurry of movement - at one point Dean has no clue where he is exactly, or even if he’s still in the motel room - and Dean finds himself across the room, pinned to the wall by a very naked Castiel. It also seems that his own clothes have vanished in the move.
“Are you meant to use your powers for that?” Dean asks, knowing how much it would rile Castiel.
“You’re just lucky that I didn’t feel like adding in Christmas bows.”
“Touché,” Dean responds, his body going rather limp as Castiel rocks their hips together. There’s no hesitation in Castiel’s actions as he crashes his lips together with Dean’s with such force that Dean’s head knocks into the wall behind. It results in their teeth clashing together painfully and Dean hisses into Castiel’s open mouth. Castiel’s hands grip Dean’s hips tightly, his fingers digging into the flesh on his sides.
That’ll bruise, Dean thinks briefly. He never expected Castiel to be so rough, but then again, Cas is one of God’s many soldiers, so it makes sense in a roundabout sort of way.
Dean blinks and when he opens his eyes again, he’s flat on his back on the nearest bed, with Castiel straddling his waist, leaning over his prone form. God, he loves Castiel’s powers right now. He pulls Castiel down for another kiss and smiles his appreciation against Castiel’s lips.
Castiel rocks his hips gently, rubbing their cocks together torturously slow. Dean grabs a hold of the backs of Castiel’s thighs, pressing his blunt nails into the skin there, but even when he digs in as hard as he can, Castiel doesn’t even let out a breath of pain.
“Let me fuck you, Cas,” Dean says around Castiel’s tongue and Castiel lets out a groan; was that a yes, or a no?
As if to answer Dean’s unvoiced question, Castiel pulls back.
“Wait here,” he tells Dean before vanishing into thin air. Dean grunts in both surprise at Castiel disappearing and unhappiness at the loss of friction against his body. Before the noise even finishes leaving his mouth, Castiel is back leaning over him, his face even more red and flushed and his body thrumming with a need that Dean can feel radiating from him.
“Where did you-?” Dean starts, but before he can get the whole question out, Castiel kneels and positions himself over Dean’s cock. Without pausing, he lowers himself and Dean feels himself slide easily inside Castiel’s entrance. Oh god, Castiel disappeared so he could prepare himself for Dean.
Dean has to place a hand on Castiel’s hip and stop him from sinking down lower because he’s two seconds away from coming at the image in his mind of Castiel slipping his own lube-covered fingers inside himself and spreading himself open for Dean.
“Cas, goddamn, you’re going to be the death of me,” Dean complains, his voice raw and broken with lust. Castiel just lets his head fall back as he sinks the rest of the way down, despite Dean’s grip.
Castiel’s so hot and tight around him, and it’s better than anything he could have imagined. Castiel makes hardly any noise as he begins to rock in Dean’s lap and it makes Dean want to flip them over so he can pound into Castiel and make him moan until he’s hoarse. Castiel begins to pick up speed, rising and falling in a way that makes Dean sure his knees must be aching, but nothing is said and the room is filled with the sound of skin against skin.
After a few minutes, Castiel moves one of his hands to his own cock, pulling and stroking himself as he tries to push himself further onto Dean. Dean can see Castiel’s body tensing and knows he’s close to the edge. With a move that has been perfected over time, Dean rolls them over, until Castiel is the one on his back and Dean is the one hovering above him. Without missing a beat, Castiel wraps his legs around Dean’s waist, digging his heels into Dean’s back for support, and Dean begins to thrust into him.
Castiel looks glorious spread out below him with his bruised lips and flaming cheeks. His blue eyes bore into Dean as he silently begs Dean for more, which Dean is more than happy to supply. Dean slips a hand under one of Castiel’s thighs and hitches him up at an angle. The first thrust after the change draws a shocked gasp from Castiel and after a few more, Castiel becomes incoherent under him, tossing his head from side to side, as if he doesn’t know what to do with himself, as if he’s beside himself with pleasure. Dean sees this as a victory for himself and he leans down to swallow up Castiel’s whimpers as he covers Castiel’s mouth with his own.
Castiel’s still stroking himself between their bodies, but he stops as he uses both his hands to grip the comforter with such force that Dean almost thinks Castiel will come away with two handfuls of ripped bedding if he’d not careful. Dean pulls back to watch as Castiel shuts his eyes and pushes his head back into the pillows.
“Dean!” Castiel cries as he orgasms against both of their stomachs.
It’s the hottest thing Dean has ever heard in his life and it pulls him roughly after Castiel, like water down a drain.
“Cas,” he sobs quietly, coming deep inside Castiel, who moans Dean’s name again, probably at the feeling of spreading warmth inside him.
After a few shaky seconds, Dean’s arms give way and he lands on top of Castiel with a loud exhale of breath. Castiel doesn’t even seem to notice the extra weight, just wraps his arms around Dean’s back and shudders gently beneath him, coming down from his high.
“Thank you, Dean,” he says, chest rumbling against Dean’s from his deep voice. “I’m sure those bows will not be able to reattach themselves to my body now, but I feel safer knowing you have surpassed the needed requirements.”
In Dean’s mind, this is Castiel saying, “Holy crap, that was hot! We should do it more often,” which Dean has to agree with.
He gently pulls out of Castiel and rolls into the space next to him. They lie staring at the ceiling for a few moments before the cold starts to dig under Dean’s skin and the drying come on his stomach starts to itch. Castiel is the first one to sit up, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, and giving Dean another view of his painted back.
Dean reaches out and traces a finger over the dyed skin.
“Isn’t it bad form to open presents early, Cas?”
Castiel turns his head to look at Dean.
“You can unwrap me again tomorrow, if it would please you.”
Dean grins, folding his arms behind his head, and thinks he’s never been this excited for Christmas arrive. He’ll have to remember to thank the Trickster later, because Castiel is the best present he’s ever received.