Fic: Prisoner of Love (2/?)
Title: Prisoner of Love (2/?)
Author: snowin’ you
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: M/M non-con situations
Word Count: 2,277 / 3,842
Summary: Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of the night.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters.
A/N: Originally written for verucasalt123. Unbeta’d, so please forgive my mistakes. Title was taken from a song by Utada Hikaru, which in turn is the theme song for this awesome Japanese drama called ‘Last Friends’. Watch it if you can!
Masterpost
~:~:~
Castiel was again jolted awake by blaring morning call. For a moment, he thought he was in the comfort of his own bed in his apartment when slowly the unfamiliar light and noises began to sink in. Flashes of last night’s memories came rushing in and he got up, started. To his relief, he was neither bound nor naked. There was no trace of sticky cum on his stomach as he feared there would be. If bruises on his wrists and ankles were not evident, he would have concluded that it was all a very, very bad dream.
His bunk bed shook and Castiel pressed himself back to the wall as far as he possibly could. His cellmate, yes, he was right, Castiel couldn’t forget his name, Dean Winchester, jumped down from the top bed with a step as light as a feline. He walked out, passed the open bars, not even spared a look at Castiel from the corner of his eyes.
Castiel decided to remain in his cell. He could survive without food for a day or two, or weeks if that had to be. He wouldn’t survive sexual assaults from dozens of inmates.
Half an hour later he was yanked out of his cell by a prison guard. Apparently no one was allowed to the comfort of his own bed during ‘public’ period.
He tried to tell the guard that he was harassed last night, but the guard seemed to pretend deaf. Castiel’s heart beat loudly in his ears as he was dragged nearer and nearer to what seemed to be a common canteen. He could hear clangs and bangs of kitchenware and low hums of men talking and buzzing. He could see men, big, scary men, in orange scrubs walking here and there through small windows of the canteen doors. He was certainly walking to his death chamber.
The doors were pushed open and Castiel froze where the prison guard had left him. One pair of eyes landed on him, and then two, three and soon every pairs of eyes were locked on him as the canteen went dead silent. The erratic beatings of his own heart echoed through the hall.
There he was, at the far corner of the canteen, Castiel’s archenemy sat high on the table. Dean Winchester gazed at him from afar. Even from this distance, Castiel could clearly see the enigmatic green of his orbs. Dean Winchester had a body of a warrior, and a determination on his face of a fighter.
“Are you going to stand there forever?”
Castiel jumped at the voice. Someone small, with a bushy, dark hair just walked past him. He stopped only a few feet away, turning back to him with bulky blue eyes.
“Are you eating or what?” he snapped, then turning to walk away again.
Castiel instantly followed. He had no idea who the guy was, but it definitely beat being stared at by 200 pairs of eyes.
Once Castiel moved, the room began to return to its previous state. Inmates resumed their walking or talking or whatever it was they were doing earlier. Noises and voices again filled the room.
The new convict imitated everything the bushy inmate did, getting the tray, getting the food and walking to sit at a table. The three inmates who previously sat there quickly grabbed their trays and moved to another table once the two of them sat down. The bushy inmate didn’t seem to care.
Castiel could still feel Dean’s gaze on him. He wanted to move to another table where something could block the gaze away, but as he scanned the room, he realized it was not possible. Apparently the corner Dean sat had a full view of the entire canteen. No one could escape him.
The bushy inmate swiftly swallowed his food. Castiel picked at his bread and soup, still feeling a little woozy at the new experiences.
“If you wanted to survive this prison, you’d better start fighting for yourself,” the bushy inmate said with a mouth full of food.
Castiel snorted looking at Dean’s direction. Emerald eyes stared back at him. Wasn’t fighting what he had been doing all night?
“It’s not Dean you need to fight with,” he continued.
Castiel suppressed the urge to yell and scream and knock down the whole table. If it wasn’t for Dean-
“I’m Chuck, by the way.”
Castiel flinched. Alright, this was not the time to fume over his rage. He needed to make friends first. It might be his only chance.
“Castiel.”
“Yes, I heard you.”
Castiel felt his cheeks burned. ‘Heard’? As in---
“I’m serious,” Chuck said, getting up, “start eating,” he passed his leftover meat balls onto Castiel's plate, “and build some muscles. I don’t wanna see another dead body in here.”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Chuck was long gone. He was left there, alone, with questions unanswered. What dead body? Chuck was like the skinniest guy here, how could he tell him to ‘build some muscles’? His eyes unintentionally landed at Dean again, and suddenly he realized Chuck was right. If he wanted to survive, he needed to start fighting for himself.
Castiel swallowed down his food. With Chuck gone, he had nobody else to look at but Dean. He avoided looking at other inmates as it would be much wiser to have one enemy at a time. Dean seemed amused watching him eat. Then Castiel bit into something hard inside one of the meat balls.
He quickly turned his back on Dean and slowly spat out the food. There was a paper clip in there, possibly intended for one of the other inmates, but he didn’t care. It was a sharp object, and sharp object was a gem in this place.
The rest of the day went by painfully. Chuck didn’t join him for lunch or dinner, nor did any other inmates. Castiel observed, much to his surprise, that everyone kept their distance from him, six feet at least. (He discreetly measured.) He had no idea what to make of it, but he could live by himself for the rest of his terms if he had to. Dean only kept his eyes on him in the common area. In the private of their cell, he was nothing more to Dean than a speck of dust, which Castiel was glad. He could quietly contemplate how to defend himself with tiny paper clip if Dean decided to attack him again. He also practiced push-ups on his mattress, which shook the whole bunk bed, but he didn’t care. It beat doing it on the floor and exposed himself (and his ass) to Dean anyway.
Then came the time Castiel was most terrified of: the shower time. He rushed to find Chuck. He had to find Chuck. He found Chuck and stayed close to him. He didn’t care if Chuck thought he was a pervert. Castiel quickly stripped, put a towel around his waist and followed Chuck to the shower area, when a big, black guy stood with arms crossed, blocking his way. Chuck didn’t stop walking and soon he disappeared from Castiel’s sight.
The big guy looked down at him with a creepy smile that showed his bright, white teeth. Castiel tried to keep his composure calm. He could not let anyone see his fears, not in here. He straightened his shoulders and kept his chin up.
“Leave him be, Uriel.” A voice came up from behind, but Castiel didn’t look to see who it was. Uriel started to laugh dryly, taking a few steps away from him.
“I’ll play with you later, kitten.”
Castiel ran to the shower. He hoped nobody, especially Uriel, saw how he shuddered at the ugly remark directed at him. He ducked his head under the cool spray of water and kept it there, because his eyes were spilling warm streaks of tears. He was shaking, but hopefully everyone would think it was because of the cold shower.
~:~:~
By the time lights were out, Castiel was ready for whatever attack Dean may have at him tonight. He sat up, back to the headboard (or headbars, to be exact), a blanket cover half of his body. His tiny paper clip was ready. All he had to do was poke it into one socket of Dean’s eyes. Castiel was sure he had the gut to do that.
Hours passed, or maybe only minutes, Castiel wasn’t sure how long he sat up there in the dark. He could hear a little bit of noises here and there, someone flipping too harshly, someone snoring not so softly, but his top bunk was as still and quiet as a coffin. The weather tonight was somewhat cooling, and his arms were dead tired because of all the push-ups he did during the day, and his eyelids started drooping-
“Wake up.”
Castiel jolted awake by Dean’s voice next to his ear. He tried to move, but found his hands were tied behind his back at the head bars. Sitting close to it was not a good idea after all.
Wait, where was the paper clip?
“Looking for this?” Dean smiled widely in front of him, holding a teeny-weeny paper clip in one hand.
Castiel rolled back his head. He should have kept it in this mouth, under his tongue.
“It looks helpful. I’ll keep it for you,” said Dean, tossing the helpless clip on the floor.
Dean straddled Castiel’s lap, fingers toyed with his top. He didn’t gag him, or bind his feet.
“I see you made some friends today,” Dean said, his hands rubbing the plain of Castiel’s chest under his shirt. Castiel tried to recoil from the touch, but he couldn’t move any further with Dean sitting on him.
“What’s his name?” Dean asked, pushing his top over his head, and it stuck behind his neck. Once again Castiel was naked in front of Dean.
“Chuck,” Castiel replied with a choke of breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Dean nodded at his reply.
“Tell me,” Dean said over his skin. He didn’t waste any time, but went straight to Castiel’s sensitive spots, which sent Castiel reeling under Dean’s tight grip. “Who do you like more? Me or Chuck?”
Castiel whimpered, swelled tears threatened to pour down his cheeks. It was terrifying how Dean knew so much of him, how he didn’t miss a single sensitive spot of his.
“Chu--”
“Think of your answer, Cas,” Dean retorted. He bit at his collarbone, breaking his skin. Castiel could no longer hold his tears.
“It was you, Dean. I like you more.”
Dean hummed contentedly, licking at the bruise.
“Dean,” Castiel sobbed, his voice broken, “please.”
Dean stopped, looking back at Castiel’s face. Then he shifted. A slight change of his position, and Castiel could feel Dean’s rock hard erection against his penis.
“You feel that, Cas?” Dean asked, rocking his hips slightly, but the friction it created was maddening. “That’s what you do to me when you beg, you filthy little whore.”
Castiel swallowed down his moans. He tried his best to mutter between Dean’s thrusts, “I’m not a whore.”
That put a smile on Dean’s face. He stopped rocking and gave Castiel a peck on his lips. “No, you’re not,” Dean said shoving Castiel’s pants down. Castiel gasped when his own erection sprang free. “You’re my bitch.”
Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s cock. His thumb rubbed at the precum spilling from his angry head. Castiel shivered at the touch.
“Please, Dean, you’re hurting me.”
Dean stopped what he was doing.
“My arms, will you untie me, please?” Castiel asked softly.
For a moment, Dean seemed to consider and Castiel thought he might get away with it tonight, but then Dean lifted himself up and then lifted Castiel up with both arms, straightened his back and put a pillow behind for him to rest on.
“Better?” Dean asked.
Castiel’s hope was shattered. There was no way he was getting away with this.
As soon as Castiel nodded, Dean resumed his task. He lined up their erection and started pumping them both, with thin fabric of Dean’s pants in between. Castiel had no idea why Dean didn’t take it off, but he was glad he didn’t.
If Dean was any good with his mouth, his fingers were magical. It seemed as if Dean could read from his pants and ragged breath and it was even better than when Castiel fondled himself. Soon the tension was building up and Castiel knew he has lost his battle again.
“Dean, I’m gonna--”
“Come for me, baby.” Dean quickened his pace and Castiel shot angrily all over his stomach. He knew Dean came, too, at the same time. Their indecent groans would put every porn stars to shame.
Somehow Castiel felt sorry for his fellow inmates, having to hear such obscene sounds from unethical activities meant for the confine of a private room.
Dean flopped down, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder, panting hard. “That was awesome, Cas.”
Great. Now his perpetrator thought molesting him was awesome.
After a while, Dean got up. He grabbed a towel from his top bed, wet it and came to clean Castiel up. He didn’t wait until after Castiel had gone asleep.
“Dean,” Castiel asked, looking at Dean in the dark, “why are you doing this to me?”
Dean put Castiel’s pants up and his top down. He untied his arms and settled Castiel back on his pillow, covering him with his blanket. He gave Castiel a quick peck on his lips.
“Goodnight, Cas.”
Dean swiftly climbed back up his bed. Castiel never had his answer.
~:~:~
[ Chapter 3... ]
~:~:~
Author: snowin’ you
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: M/M non-con situations
Word Count: 2,277 / 3,842
Summary: Prison AU. Castiel is a new convict and a new cellmate to dormant Dean Winchester, who turns savage in the dead of the night.
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or its characters.
A/N: Originally written for verucasalt123. Unbeta’d, so please forgive my mistakes. Title was taken from a song by Utada Hikaru, which in turn is the theme song for this awesome Japanese drama called ‘Last Friends’. Watch it if you can!
Masterpost
~:~:~
Castiel was again jolted awake by blaring morning call. For a moment, he thought he was in the comfort of his own bed in his apartment when slowly the unfamiliar light and noises began to sink in. Flashes of last night’s memories came rushing in and he got up, started. To his relief, he was neither bound nor naked. There was no trace of sticky cum on his stomach as he feared there would be. If bruises on his wrists and ankles were not evident, he would have concluded that it was all a very, very bad dream.
His bunk bed shook and Castiel pressed himself back to the wall as far as he possibly could. His cellmate, yes, he was right, Castiel couldn’t forget his name, Dean Winchester, jumped down from the top bed with a step as light as a feline. He walked out, passed the open bars, not even spared a look at Castiel from the corner of his eyes.
Castiel decided to remain in his cell. He could survive without food for a day or two, or weeks if that had to be. He wouldn’t survive sexual assaults from dozens of inmates.
Half an hour later he was yanked out of his cell by a prison guard. Apparently no one was allowed to the comfort of his own bed during ‘public’ period.
He tried to tell the guard that he was harassed last night, but the guard seemed to pretend deaf. Castiel’s heart beat loudly in his ears as he was dragged nearer and nearer to what seemed to be a common canteen. He could hear clangs and bangs of kitchenware and low hums of men talking and buzzing. He could see men, big, scary men, in orange scrubs walking here and there through small windows of the canteen doors. He was certainly walking to his death chamber.
The doors were pushed open and Castiel froze where the prison guard had left him. One pair of eyes landed on him, and then two, three and soon every pairs of eyes were locked on him as the canteen went dead silent. The erratic beatings of his own heart echoed through the hall.
There he was, at the far corner of the canteen, Castiel’s archenemy sat high on the table. Dean Winchester gazed at him from afar. Even from this distance, Castiel could clearly see the enigmatic green of his orbs. Dean Winchester had a body of a warrior, and a determination on his face of a fighter.
“Are you going to stand there forever?”
Castiel jumped at the voice. Someone small, with a bushy, dark hair just walked past him. He stopped only a few feet away, turning back to him with bulky blue eyes.
“Are you eating or what?” he snapped, then turning to walk away again.
Castiel instantly followed. He had no idea who the guy was, but it definitely beat being stared at by 200 pairs of eyes.
Once Castiel moved, the room began to return to its previous state. Inmates resumed their walking or talking or whatever it was they were doing earlier. Noises and voices again filled the room.
The new convict imitated everything the bushy inmate did, getting the tray, getting the food and walking to sit at a table. The three inmates who previously sat there quickly grabbed their trays and moved to another table once the two of them sat down. The bushy inmate didn’t seem to care.
Castiel could still feel Dean’s gaze on him. He wanted to move to another table where something could block the gaze away, but as he scanned the room, he realized it was not possible. Apparently the corner Dean sat had a full view of the entire canteen. No one could escape him.
The bushy inmate swiftly swallowed his food. Castiel picked at his bread and soup, still feeling a little woozy at the new experiences.
“If you wanted to survive this prison, you’d better start fighting for yourself,” the bushy inmate said with a mouth full of food.
Castiel snorted looking at Dean’s direction. Emerald eyes stared back at him. Wasn’t fighting what he had been doing all night?
“It’s not Dean you need to fight with,” he continued.
Castiel suppressed the urge to yell and scream and knock down the whole table. If it wasn’t for Dean-
“I’m Chuck, by the way.”
Castiel flinched. Alright, this was not the time to fume over his rage. He needed to make friends first. It might be his only chance.
“Castiel.”
“Yes, I heard you.”
Castiel felt his cheeks burned. ‘Heard’? As in---
“I’m serious,” Chuck said, getting up, “start eating,” he passed his leftover meat balls onto Castiel's plate, “and build some muscles. I don’t wanna see another dead body in here.”
Castiel opened his mouth to speak, but Chuck was long gone. He was left there, alone, with questions unanswered. What dead body? Chuck was like the skinniest guy here, how could he tell him to ‘build some muscles’? His eyes unintentionally landed at Dean again, and suddenly he realized Chuck was right. If he wanted to survive, he needed to start fighting for himself.
Castiel swallowed down his food. With Chuck gone, he had nobody else to look at but Dean. He avoided looking at other inmates as it would be much wiser to have one enemy at a time. Dean seemed amused watching him eat. Then Castiel bit into something hard inside one of the meat balls.
He quickly turned his back on Dean and slowly spat out the food. There was a paper clip in there, possibly intended for one of the other inmates, but he didn’t care. It was a sharp object, and sharp object was a gem in this place.
The rest of the day went by painfully. Chuck didn’t join him for lunch or dinner, nor did any other inmates. Castiel observed, much to his surprise, that everyone kept their distance from him, six feet at least. (He discreetly measured.) He had no idea what to make of it, but he could live by himself for the rest of his terms if he had to. Dean only kept his eyes on him in the common area. In the private of their cell, he was nothing more to Dean than a speck of dust, which Castiel was glad. He could quietly contemplate how to defend himself with tiny paper clip if Dean decided to attack him again. He also practiced push-ups on his mattress, which shook the whole bunk bed, but he didn’t care. It beat doing it on the floor and exposed himself (and his ass) to Dean anyway.
Then came the time Castiel was most terrified of: the shower time. He rushed to find Chuck. He had to find Chuck. He found Chuck and stayed close to him. He didn’t care if Chuck thought he was a pervert. Castiel quickly stripped, put a towel around his waist and followed Chuck to the shower area, when a big, black guy stood with arms crossed, blocking his way. Chuck didn’t stop walking and soon he disappeared from Castiel’s sight.
The big guy looked down at him with a creepy smile that showed his bright, white teeth. Castiel tried to keep his composure calm. He could not let anyone see his fears, not in here. He straightened his shoulders and kept his chin up.
“Leave him be, Uriel.” A voice came up from behind, but Castiel didn’t look to see who it was. Uriel started to laugh dryly, taking a few steps away from him.
“I’ll play with you later, kitten.”
Castiel ran to the shower. He hoped nobody, especially Uriel, saw how he shuddered at the ugly remark directed at him. He ducked his head under the cool spray of water and kept it there, because his eyes were spilling warm streaks of tears. He was shaking, but hopefully everyone would think it was because of the cold shower.
~:~:~
By the time lights were out, Castiel was ready for whatever attack Dean may have at him tonight. He sat up, back to the headboard (or headbars, to be exact), a blanket cover half of his body. His tiny paper clip was ready. All he had to do was poke it into one socket of Dean’s eyes. Castiel was sure he had the gut to do that.
Hours passed, or maybe only minutes, Castiel wasn’t sure how long he sat up there in the dark. He could hear a little bit of noises here and there, someone flipping too harshly, someone snoring not so softly, but his top bunk was as still and quiet as a coffin. The weather tonight was somewhat cooling, and his arms were dead tired because of all the push-ups he did during the day, and his eyelids started drooping-
“Wake up.”
Castiel jolted awake by Dean’s voice next to his ear. He tried to move, but found his hands were tied behind his back at the head bars. Sitting close to it was not a good idea after all.
Wait, where was the paper clip?
“Looking for this?” Dean smiled widely in front of him, holding a teeny-weeny paper clip in one hand.
Castiel rolled back his head. He should have kept it in this mouth, under his tongue.
“It looks helpful. I’ll keep it for you,” said Dean, tossing the helpless clip on the floor.
Dean straddled Castiel’s lap, fingers toyed with his top. He didn’t gag him, or bind his feet.
“I see you made some friends today,” Dean said, his hands rubbing the plain of Castiel’s chest under his shirt. Castiel tried to recoil from the touch, but he couldn’t move any further with Dean sitting on him.
“What’s his name?” Dean asked, pushing his top over his head, and it stuck behind his neck. Once again Castiel was naked in front of Dean.
“Chuck,” Castiel replied with a choke of breath he didn’t know he was holding.
Dean nodded at his reply.
“Tell me,” Dean said over his skin. He didn’t waste any time, but went straight to Castiel’s sensitive spots, which sent Castiel reeling under Dean’s tight grip. “Who do you like more? Me or Chuck?”
Castiel whimpered, swelled tears threatened to pour down his cheeks. It was terrifying how Dean knew so much of him, how he didn’t miss a single sensitive spot of his.
“Chu--”
“Think of your answer, Cas,” Dean retorted. He bit at his collarbone, breaking his skin. Castiel could no longer hold his tears.
“It was you, Dean. I like you more.”
Dean hummed contentedly, licking at the bruise.
“Dean,” Castiel sobbed, his voice broken, “please.”
Dean stopped, looking back at Castiel’s face. Then he shifted. A slight change of his position, and Castiel could feel Dean’s rock hard erection against his penis.
“You feel that, Cas?” Dean asked, rocking his hips slightly, but the friction it created was maddening. “That’s what you do to me when you beg, you filthy little whore.”
Castiel swallowed down his moans. He tried his best to mutter between Dean’s thrusts, “I’m not a whore.”
That put a smile on Dean’s face. He stopped rocking and gave Castiel a peck on his lips. “No, you’re not,” Dean said shoving Castiel’s pants down. Castiel gasped when his own erection sprang free. “You’re my bitch.”
Dean wrapped his fingers around Castiel’s cock. His thumb rubbed at the precum spilling from his angry head. Castiel shivered at the touch.
“Please, Dean, you’re hurting me.”
Dean stopped what he was doing.
“My arms, will you untie me, please?” Castiel asked softly.
For a moment, Dean seemed to consider and Castiel thought he might get away with it tonight, but then Dean lifted himself up and then lifted Castiel up with both arms, straightened his back and put a pillow behind for him to rest on.
“Better?” Dean asked.
Castiel’s hope was shattered. There was no way he was getting away with this.
As soon as Castiel nodded, Dean resumed his task. He lined up their erection and started pumping them both, with thin fabric of Dean’s pants in between. Castiel had no idea why Dean didn’t take it off, but he was glad he didn’t.
If Dean was any good with his mouth, his fingers were magical. It seemed as if Dean could read from his pants and ragged breath and it was even better than when Castiel fondled himself. Soon the tension was building up and Castiel knew he has lost his battle again.
“Dean, I’m gonna--”
“Come for me, baby.” Dean quickened his pace and Castiel shot angrily all over his stomach. He knew Dean came, too, at the same time. Their indecent groans would put every porn stars to shame.
Somehow Castiel felt sorry for his fellow inmates, having to hear such obscene sounds from unethical activities meant for the confine of a private room.
Dean flopped down, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder, panting hard. “That was awesome, Cas.”
Great. Now his perpetrator thought molesting him was awesome.
After a while, Dean got up. He grabbed a towel from his top bed, wet it and came to clean Castiel up. He didn’t wait until after Castiel had gone asleep.
“Dean,” Castiel asked, looking at Dean in the dark, “why are you doing this to me?”
Dean put Castiel’s pants up and his top down. He untied his arms and settled Castiel back on his pillow, covering him with his blanket. He gave Castiel a quick peck on his lips.
“Goodnight, Cas.”
Dean swiftly climbed back up his bed. Castiel never had his answer.
~:~:~
[ Chapter 3... ]
~:~:~