Fic: Prisoner of Love (5/?)
MASTERPOST
A/N: As promised, here is Dean's side of the story. This story now has over 80 followers, which is much, much more than I could ever hope for. Thank you each and every one of you, especially to those who left their reviews.
ICYMI, this story is tagged with warnings for M/M non-con situations, coarse languages, and violence. Please kindly heed additional warnings for each chapter (if any).
This story is purely fictional and the author by no means promotes, supports or tolerates non-consensual sexual activities of any kind.
Please kindly give two more rounds of applause for phaelsafe for beta-reading this chapter.
Oh, and more than half of this chapter is in flashbacks but I don't want to put everything in italics. Hopefully you won't get confused.
~:~:~
"I see a light coming from the east.
It will warm up your soul,
And it will bring destruction upon this place."
~:~:~
"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Chuck yelled, his voice echoing through the empty kitchen they were having the heated argument in.
"Keep your voice down, will you?" Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Even though they were in the far back, he didn't want to risk anyone overhearing them.
"The hell you were thinking?" Chuck continued, his voice now lowered almost to a normal level. "Why did you stop?"
"Because I can't do it anymore!" Dean hissed through gritted teeth, swinging an arm in the air as though he wanted to hit something to relieve his frustration.
Chuck threw his head back and sighed wearily. "Dean," he wailed, "we've been through this."
"I know!" Dean was now pacing up and down the aisle, flinging his arms. "But I can't-" he trailed off, rubbing both hands over his face. "I can't break him anymore. Not like this."
"Dean," Chuck said in a serious tone, "you know full well that if you don't, there will be consequences. Many lives are at stake here."
"We don't know that for sure, do we? We don't even know if anything at all will happen!" he scoffed into Chuck's face.
"Now, that is downright insulting," Chuck returned flatly. "Tell me if my vision has been wrong once."
Dean opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.
"Did he warm up your soul?" Chuck continued.
Dean didn't even attempt to reply. He simply lifted a hand to pinch his lips shut with his fingers, then crossed his other arm over his chest.
"I take that as a yes." Chuck concluded with a nod.
"Okay, so what if one sentence of your prophecy was true?" Dean added an air quote at the word prophecy. "Doesn't explain the rest, though. The guy is from California as far as I know. That is like as far west as west can be."
"You have to have faith, Dean," Chuck replied calmly. "Or do you think there could be another light that warms up your soul?"
As disturbing as it was, Dean hated to admit he professed strange feelings towards this Cas guy. It was as if Dean was drawn to him - not physically, but much, much deeper than that. He never felt it with anyone before; he doubted he would feel it with anyone ever again.
~:~:~
Usually Dean would hang around the newcomers' reception hall only when he heard there'd be potential threats coming in order to assess the threat, get a heads up and prepare to handle them (primarily in regards to Lucifer). But since Chuck told him of that prophecy a few weeks ago, Dean needed to be on a lookout for all of them. They had no idea what sort of 'light' they needed to watch out for.
That was where Dean first met him: Castiel Milton, the man who would be his new cellmate and the one who would change the course of his life. With an amusedly adorable mop of unruly dark hair and the brightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen, he looked more like a student visiting the prison on a field trip than an offender coming in for first-degree murder.
Dean had been pretending to swab the floor the day Cas arrived. The floor was already sparkling clean as an officer droned on through the orientation lecture for the newcomers. Suddenly Cas' eyes turned his way and Dean held his breath even though he knew the guy wasn't looking at him. He followed Cas' gaze and landed upon a normal-looking butterfly that decided to rest on the windowsill. When he turned back, Cas was smiling a sweet, reminiscent smile, and Dean knew they had found the one they'd been looking for.
But if any officer saw Cas smiling during his first orientation, they'd think he was being defiant and he was sure to come in for a rough ride while serving his time here. Thinking quickly, Dean dropped the mop onto the floor with a loud clack, causing everyone to turn his way. He already had his back to the crowd when he picked the long handle up and muttered his apologies to the officers before quickly walking away.
Then came the time Cas had to be sent to his cell. Dean played it cool by keeping still. He had mastered the art of playing dead, but when Cas inched closer, as if wanting to feel his pulse, Dean slipped. No one here had ever cared if he lived or died before. For someone who feigned death it was ironic to hear his heart beat so erratically in his ears, even long after Cas had disappeared under his bed. This guy - with all his naivety and too-trusting attitude - was going to be the death of him, literally, if Dean didn't do something about it and let Cas wing it on his own.
~:~:~
So that was how Dean found himself on top of Cas, committing what anyone would call a sexual assault. It was the only way to send a quick signal to the entire prison to keep their hands off him. Also, if Cas wanted to survive this prison, he needed to shake loose his innocence. It seemed so right a decision at the time, but afterwards, when Dean had to wipe the tears off Cas' face and tug him in all his unconsciousness to bed, it broke his heart. He had been very cautious about it, making sure Cas wasn't hurt (except for the restraints, which were unavoidable) and fully aroused, but it was a violation nonetheless. No amount of good intention could justify it.
Dean would have had stopped had Cas' first day gone by with no problem. Most inmates got the message and kept their distance, but someone hadn't taken Dean seriously and approached Cas in the shower. On top of that, Dean had tested Cas by slipping a paperclip in his food, but that night when Cas had fallen asleep - in the most adorable way, Dean thought - with the paperclip laying recklessly on the bed beside him, Dean realized Cas hadn't the slightest idea how to survive here. Tying Cas up to the bed, Dean reminded himself that if Gabriel didn't get his lazy ass into gear he would make sure his candy supply was cut off. Knowing tonight the entire prison would have to hear both of their voices, Dean took a deep breath before waking up the sleeping beauty.
He would be lying if he said it wasn't fantastic. He loved the way Cas felt under his fingers. The way Cas writhed underneath him, trying to suppress his moans, only encouraged Dean to find the right angle and the right pressure in order to break them out of those lips. It left Dean dreaming, like a fucking girl, of the day he would be able to make love to Cas like he would his lover: gentle, hot, reciprocal. So, the next night, when Cas said he wanted to kiss him, Dean fell into a trance as if he had been enchanted by a magic spell.
But who was he kidding? Until Cas could fight him off, Dean would have to be the enforcer. Dean thought he would speed things up a little bit. The sooner he reached his goal, the sooner he wouldn't have to hurt Cas. By turning a victim into a perpetrator, yielding himself to the receiving end, Dean let Cas have a taste of being the abuser. He had coerced Cas into assaulting him, and Cas had complied, brutally thrusting his cock down Dean's throat until it hurt for days. He may have done too good a job at that, because even though he waited, there were no tears coming from Cas' eyes. In the end, Dean cried for both of them, for the mistakes he made, and for the innocence lost.
Regardless of Dean's intentions, sooner or later this would all backfire on him.
~:~:~
"Where are you going?" Dean asked, seeing that Cas was not walking back to their cell after breakfast one morning.
This was the first conversation Dean had had with Cas in the daylight. As long as he knew Cas was safe, Dean kept his distance and avoided any form of communication. But now Cas was breaking his routine, and Dean had no knowledge of it beforehand.
"Work," Cas replied flatly, his eyes narrowing in a way Dean could only interpret as disgust.
'That's new,' Dean thought, masking his surprise with a trained stoic appearance. "How did you get a job?" he asked. No one here got a job without coming through him.
"Why, Dean?" Castiel took a step closer and stared right into his eyes. "You have a problem with me going to work?"
Dean gulped. He knew Cas could be defiant; didn't mean getting it right to his face wasn't unnerving.
"You want to chain me up to the bed?" Cas continued sneering. "In that case, you'll have to get yourself a pet, Dean, cause last time I checked, I am still a human being - and one hundred percent sane," he finished and started storming away.
"Cas," Dean called, grabbing an arm to stop him. He may have pulled a little too harshly, because those shiny blue eyes were now only inches away, gazing at him with an intensity that pierced into his soul.
"It's Castiel," Cas hissed. "You don't get to call me Cas, and you don't get to touch me."
Cas jerked his arm away. Dean watched as the smaller man walked away, his shoulders trembling with fury.
~:~:~
Last night, Dean opened his eyes to find it dark. Even though he needed a solid four hours each night, his instincts kept his sleep light. Cas was talking in his sleep again.
He slid down the bed quietly, looking at the man before him caught in a troubled sleep.
"Anna-"
That was the name Cas kept calling. Who was this Anna? His wife? He had asked Sam to look into it and had yet to hear back from his brother. He watched with a troubling heart as sweat broke across Cas' forehead and all Dean wanted to do was to wipe it and those dreams away. As Cas began to writhe violently, her name slipped from his mouth with increasing frequency and volume. Dean stopped himself from reaching out to hold Cas in his arms, to calm him down and tell him everything was all right. Dean had sworn the next time he touched Cas must be because Cas wanted him to.
By the time Cas jerked awake, Dean was already back in his bed. He heard the sound of water running from the faucet and Cas must have splashed it all over his head. Then Dean would feel his presence, like always. He didn't have to look to know Cas was standing there, looking at him. Each day, it got closer and closer. The night before, he could feel Cas rested his head on the small railing of his bedside, but tonight, tonight he could feel the softest touch of Cas' fingers picking at the edge of his blanket. It was so close. So close that Dean thought if only he turned back - if only he turned back, he would be able to pull the man into his arms and embrace him.
When Dean turned back, Cas was already gone.
~:~:~
"Between you and him, Dean, you need to be the strong one." Chuck took the opportunity to continue when Dean didn't reply. "You can't fold just because you don't have the nerve to ready him for battle."
"Are you even listening to yourself?" Dean asked, his voice almost a wailing. "We don't even know what kind of destruction he will bring." Again, another air-quote. "It could be, I don't know, a good one?" Dean said with a sheepish shrug.
Chuck rolled his eyes. "Hello, Dean? Wake up! Look where we are," Chuck said, snapping his fingers. "Almost everyone here has killed someone, Dean. Do you think they will aim for a peaceful destruction? You have to do this. When the time comes - and it will - he needs to be able to protect himself."
"Fine!" Dean retorted. "I'll find another way."
"Dean-"
"I'll find another way," he insisted. "I'll keep an eye on him in the meantime."
"Can you watch him every minute of every day?" Chuck countered. "Can you trust your men? What if they lost sight of him for five minutes? You of all people should know a lot can happen within a five-minute time frame."
"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Dean hissed again, because Chuck was right and Dean had no answer for that.
Chuck didn't flinch. "If you don't break him, somebody will. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
Dean rubbed both hands over his face, sighing long and hard. "Fine. Let it happen then," Dean said with resolve, and Chuck didn't even try to hide the look of horror on his face. "Let somebody get to him and I can finish that bastard off and be done with your proph-"
"DEAN!"
A shout of his name cut him off mid-sentence. The unmistakable panic in the voice let Dean know something truly awful was happening. An inmate came into sight.
"Oh, thank God, I finally found you," the guy rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Come quick. It's Castiel."
The mention of the name made Dean headed out immediately, shouting back to Chuck, "Go get Gabriel!"
~:~:~
To say Dean snapped at what he saw was an understatement.
Cas was naked, on his knees, hands tied behind his back, with someone's cock shoved down his mouth. Dean hurled his fist at the culprit instantly, hitting his face so hard he could almost hear the cracking of bone.
"The boy is mine!" Dean shouted, splattering blood and knocking out a tooth as he threw another punch.
Somebody hurled Dean off and Dean knocked him away with a right cross. He turned back and was hit with a knee to the stomach, twice. Dean backed away from the assaults.
"I thought you were bored with him, Dean," the guy taunted, and Dean looked up to see it was Uriel, that bastard. "So I thought I'd play with him, you know, to keep him from getting too lonely."
"That boy toy is mine," Dean hissed, straightening up. He was ready for another fight. "I can play with him or not as I damn well please."
Dean took the first two jabs from Uriel. He returned with a one-two and dodged a swing. Dean countered with an uppercut to the ribs and series of straights to the torso. Once he got close enough, he locked his hands behind Uriel's neck and kneed him in the stomach one, two, three times, causing red blood to spill from his mouth. Uriel used his greater mass to heave Dean away.
Dean tried to maintain his balance but hits to his face and chest followed too quickly. He used his leg to throw Uriel off balance, unsuccessfully. But it did get Uriel to sway backwards. Dean followed with straight, hard punches to the face. Seeing Uriel become woozy, Dean struck him with a spinning kick right to his head. Uriel fell to the ground. Dean hurled himself atop the other man, throwing punch after punch after punch-
"Dean, stop it!"
The voice chimed in his ears like a bell. Someone held his arm, stopping his swing and Dean turned to see Cas. His bright eyes flickered with unfathomable expression. A blanket barely covered his naked body, and Dean saw bruises across his neck that he damn well knew weren't caused by him.
He abruptly stood up and, scruffing Cas by the neck, slammed his face on Uriel's chest. The bloody mess was just a nose tip away from Cas' face.
"Why, Cas?" he snarled. "You enjoyed sucking his dick so much that you don't want me to hurt him?" Cas shook his face against Dean's tight grip. New tears started rolling over old stains. "Tell you what, how about I cut his dick off and feed it to you for breakfast, huh? You like that? You man-whore!" he growled.
"No," Cas sobbed. "Dean, please."
"Need I remind you who you belong to?" Dean barked.
"I'm yours, Dean," Cas whimpered. "I'm yours."
"Good," Dean said, propelling Cas to his feet. He tightened the blanket, twisting his fingers into the cloth, and started walking. He stopped in front of Gabriel.
"Finish the job," Dean said, pointing to the heap of man-mess on the floor, and the troublemakers held captive by Dean's men. "I need to teach someone a lesson."
~:~:~
Dean threw Cas on the bed and threw himself on top of him. His worst fear had turned real. What would've happened if he hadn't gotten there fast enough? What if there were more men against him? What if he had lost the fight? He had to declare, again, that Cas was his, but would the message get across? How long would he have to live in fear that this might happen again? Or was that the last 'destruction' Chuck prophesied? Seeing Cas in such a vulnerable position had snapped him in half. His precious, delicate angel, his light-
"Dean, Dean, stop." Cas' voice broke his train of thought. "You're hurting yourself."
Hurting myself? What was he saying?
It took Dean a moment to realize that, in his attempt to 'teach a lesson', Dean was dry-humping them. Neither of them was hard.
Even now, after all that had happened, Cas still thought of Dean first. Cas should hate him, should be disgusted with him - and Dean deserved it for being the brutal dick that he was, for failing to keep Cas safe in spite of that fact.
"Why are you doing this to me, Cas?" Dean said meekly next to Cas' ear.
He wasn't aware he was shaking until he felt soothing hands stroking gently at his back. He wasn't aware he was spilling tears until he felt tender lips on his cheek, drinking them away. Dean nuzzled into the touch because it was so comforting, and comfort was what Dean had been lacking for so long.
Dean breathed in, basking in the feeling of Cas' caresses, of their intimacy, of the way his heart fluttered and the world reeled at it all. Their lips met, and Dean savored it like he would his favorite piece of apple pie. He nibbled chapped lips, tasting salty tears and softly smudging them. Cas slightly parted his lips and Dean ran his tongue along white lines of teeth, teasing but not entering. He felt a hand grasped at the back of his neck, neither pushing nor pulling but locking him in place.
Dean smiled against the shivering lips, and started kissing him, for real this time. He slipped his tongue in, groping and searching and learning every corner and every curve of the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas groaned into it, and while his hand was steady behind Dean's neck, his arms squeezed Dean tighter. Satisfied, Dean yielded, and take over Cas did; he sucked and sighed into Dean's lips, inviting him closer, wanting him more.
After Dean sweetly complied, he pulled away just enough to see Cas' flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, feeling Cas' chest heave beneath him. Dean rested his forehead against Cas', catching his breath when he smugly asked, "Aren't you going to bite my tongue off?"
Cas smiled, a hand coming to pat Dean on the cheek. "Maybe next time."
~:~:~
A/N: Let me know what you think of the chapter! If you still feel the urge to throw me rotten food, I suggest your veggies of choice not be green beans or celery. Alternatively, you can throw me West Collins, who basically eats the whole produce section.
More sexy times coming up. Stay tuned! :)
A/N: As promised, here is Dean's side of the story. This story now has over 80 followers, which is much, much more than I could ever hope for. Thank you each and every one of you, especially to those who left their reviews.
ICYMI, this story is tagged with warnings for M/M non-con situations, coarse languages, and violence. Please kindly heed additional warnings for each chapter (if any).
This story is purely fictional and the author by no means promotes, supports or tolerates non-consensual sexual activities of any kind.
Please kindly give two more rounds of applause for phaelsafe for beta-reading this chapter.
Oh, and more than half of this chapter is in flashbacks but I don't want to put everything in italics. Hopefully you won't get confused.
~:~:~
"I see a light coming from the east.
It will warm up your soul,
And it will bring destruction upon this place."
~:~:~
"What the hell are you doing, Dean?" Chuck yelled, his voice echoing through the empty kitchen they were having the heated argument in.
"Keep your voice down, will you?" Dean said with a roll of his eyes. Even though they were in the far back, he didn't want to risk anyone overhearing them.
"The hell you were thinking?" Chuck continued, his voice now lowered almost to a normal level. "Why did you stop?"
"Because I can't do it anymore!" Dean hissed through gritted teeth, swinging an arm in the air as though he wanted to hit something to relieve his frustration.
Chuck threw his head back and sighed wearily. "Dean," he wailed, "we've been through this."
"I know!" Dean was now pacing up and down the aisle, flinging his arms. "But I can't-" he trailed off, rubbing both hands over his face. "I can't break him anymore. Not like this."
"Dean," Chuck said in a serious tone, "you know full well that if you don't, there will be consequences. Many lives are at stake here."
"We don't know that for sure, do we? We don't even know if anything at all will happen!" he scoffed into Chuck's face.
"Now, that is downright insulting," Chuck returned flatly. "Tell me if my vision has been wrong once."
Dean opened his mouth to speak, then shut it.
"Did he warm up your soul?" Chuck continued.
Dean didn't even attempt to reply. He simply lifted a hand to pinch his lips shut with his fingers, then crossed his other arm over his chest.
"I take that as a yes." Chuck concluded with a nod.
"Okay, so what if one sentence of your prophecy was true?" Dean added an air quote at the word prophecy. "Doesn't explain the rest, though. The guy is from California as far as I know. That is like as far west as west can be."
"You have to have faith, Dean," Chuck replied calmly. "Or do you think there could be another light that warms up your soul?"
As disturbing as it was, Dean hated to admit he professed strange feelings towards this Cas guy. It was as if Dean was drawn to him - not physically, but much, much deeper than that. He never felt it with anyone before; he doubted he would feel it with anyone ever again.
~:~:~
Usually Dean would hang around the newcomers' reception hall only when he heard there'd be potential threats coming in order to assess the threat, get a heads up and prepare to handle them (primarily in regards to Lucifer). But since Chuck told him of that prophecy a few weeks ago, Dean needed to be on a lookout for all of them. They had no idea what sort of 'light' they needed to watch out for.
That was where Dean first met him: Castiel Milton, the man who would be his new cellmate and the one who would change the course of his life. With an amusedly adorable mop of unruly dark hair and the brightest blue eyes Dean had ever seen, he looked more like a student visiting the prison on a field trip than an offender coming in for first-degree murder.
Dean had been pretending to swab the floor the day Cas arrived. The floor was already sparkling clean as an officer droned on through the orientation lecture for the newcomers. Suddenly Cas' eyes turned his way and Dean held his breath even though he knew the guy wasn't looking at him. He followed Cas' gaze and landed upon a normal-looking butterfly that decided to rest on the windowsill. When he turned back, Cas was smiling a sweet, reminiscent smile, and Dean knew they had found the one they'd been looking for.
But if any officer saw Cas smiling during his first orientation, they'd think he was being defiant and he was sure to come in for a rough ride while serving his time here. Thinking quickly, Dean dropped the mop onto the floor with a loud clack, causing everyone to turn his way. He already had his back to the crowd when he picked the long handle up and muttered his apologies to the officers before quickly walking away.
Then came the time Cas had to be sent to his cell. Dean played it cool by keeping still. He had mastered the art of playing dead, but when Cas inched closer, as if wanting to feel his pulse, Dean slipped. No one here had ever cared if he lived or died before. For someone who feigned death it was ironic to hear his heart beat so erratically in his ears, even long after Cas had disappeared under his bed. This guy - with all his naivety and too-trusting attitude - was going to be the death of him, literally, if Dean didn't do something about it and let Cas wing it on his own.
~:~:~
So that was how Dean found himself on top of Cas, committing what anyone would call a sexual assault. It was the only way to send a quick signal to the entire prison to keep their hands off him. Also, if Cas wanted to survive this prison, he needed to shake loose his innocence. It seemed so right a decision at the time, but afterwards, when Dean had to wipe the tears off Cas' face and tug him in all his unconsciousness to bed, it broke his heart. He had been very cautious about it, making sure Cas wasn't hurt (except for the restraints, which were unavoidable) and fully aroused, but it was a violation nonetheless. No amount of good intention could justify it.
Dean would have had stopped had Cas' first day gone by with no problem. Most inmates got the message and kept their distance, but someone hadn't taken Dean seriously and approached Cas in the shower. On top of that, Dean had tested Cas by slipping a paperclip in his food, but that night when Cas had fallen asleep - in the most adorable way, Dean thought - with the paperclip laying recklessly on the bed beside him, Dean realized Cas hadn't the slightest idea how to survive here. Tying Cas up to the bed, Dean reminded himself that if Gabriel didn't get his lazy ass into gear he would make sure his candy supply was cut off. Knowing tonight the entire prison would have to hear both of their voices, Dean took a deep breath before waking up the sleeping beauty.
He would be lying if he said it wasn't fantastic. He loved the way Cas felt under his fingers. The way Cas writhed underneath him, trying to suppress his moans, only encouraged Dean to find the right angle and the right pressure in order to break them out of those lips. It left Dean dreaming, like a fucking girl, of the day he would be able to make love to Cas like he would his lover: gentle, hot, reciprocal. So, the next night, when Cas said he wanted to kiss him, Dean fell into a trance as if he had been enchanted by a magic spell.
But who was he kidding? Until Cas could fight him off, Dean would have to be the enforcer. Dean thought he would speed things up a little bit. The sooner he reached his goal, the sooner he wouldn't have to hurt Cas. By turning a victim into a perpetrator, yielding himself to the receiving end, Dean let Cas have a taste of being the abuser. He had coerced Cas into assaulting him, and Cas had complied, brutally thrusting his cock down Dean's throat until it hurt for days. He may have done too good a job at that, because even though he waited, there were no tears coming from Cas' eyes. In the end, Dean cried for both of them, for the mistakes he made, and for the innocence lost.
Regardless of Dean's intentions, sooner or later this would all backfire on him.
~:~:~
"Where are you going?" Dean asked, seeing that Cas was not walking back to their cell after breakfast one morning.
This was the first conversation Dean had had with Cas in the daylight. As long as he knew Cas was safe, Dean kept his distance and avoided any form of communication. But now Cas was breaking his routine, and Dean had no knowledge of it beforehand.
"Work," Cas replied flatly, his eyes narrowing in a way Dean could only interpret as disgust.
'That's new,' Dean thought, masking his surprise with a trained stoic appearance. "How did you get a job?" he asked. No one here got a job without coming through him.
"Why, Dean?" Castiel took a step closer and stared right into his eyes. "You have a problem with me going to work?"
Dean gulped. He knew Cas could be defiant; didn't mean getting it right to his face wasn't unnerving.
"You want to chain me up to the bed?" Cas continued sneering. "In that case, you'll have to get yourself a pet, Dean, cause last time I checked, I am still a human being - and one hundred percent sane," he finished and started storming away.
"Cas," Dean called, grabbing an arm to stop him. He may have pulled a little too harshly, because those shiny blue eyes were now only inches away, gazing at him with an intensity that pierced into his soul.
"It's Castiel," Cas hissed. "You don't get to call me Cas, and you don't get to touch me."
Cas jerked his arm away. Dean watched as the smaller man walked away, his shoulders trembling with fury.
~:~:~
Last night, Dean opened his eyes to find it dark. Even though he needed a solid four hours each night, his instincts kept his sleep light. Cas was talking in his sleep again.
He slid down the bed quietly, looking at the man before him caught in a troubled sleep.
"Anna-"
That was the name Cas kept calling. Who was this Anna? His wife? He had asked Sam to look into it and had yet to hear back from his brother. He watched with a troubling heart as sweat broke across Cas' forehead and all Dean wanted to do was to wipe it and those dreams away. As Cas began to writhe violently, her name slipped from his mouth with increasing frequency and volume. Dean stopped himself from reaching out to hold Cas in his arms, to calm him down and tell him everything was all right. Dean had sworn the next time he touched Cas must be because Cas wanted him to.
By the time Cas jerked awake, Dean was already back in his bed. He heard the sound of water running from the faucet and Cas must have splashed it all over his head. Then Dean would feel his presence, like always. He didn't have to look to know Cas was standing there, looking at him. Each day, it got closer and closer. The night before, he could feel Cas rested his head on the small railing of his bedside, but tonight, tonight he could feel the softest touch of Cas' fingers picking at the edge of his blanket. It was so close. So close that Dean thought if only he turned back - if only he turned back, he would be able to pull the man into his arms and embrace him.
When Dean turned back, Cas was already gone.
~:~:~
"Between you and him, Dean, you need to be the strong one." Chuck took the opportunity to continue when Dean didn't reply. "You can't fold just because you don't have the nerve to ready him for battle."
"Are you even listening to yourself?" Dean asked, his voice almost a wailing. "We don't even know what kind of destruction he will bring." Again, another air-quote. "It could be, I don't know, a good one?" Dean said with a sheepish shrug.
Chuck rolled his eyes. "Hello, Dean? Wake up! Look where we are," Chuck said, snapping his fingers. "Almost everyone here has killed someone, Dean. Do you think they will aim for a peaceful destruction? You have to do this. When the time comes - and it will - he needs to be able to protect himself."
"Fine!" Dean retorted. "I'll find another way."
"Dean-"
"I'll find another way," he insisted. "I'll keep an eye on him in the meantime."
"Can you watch him every minute of every day?" Chuck countered. "Can you trust your men? What if they lost sight of him for five minutes? You of all people should know a lot can happen within a five-minute time frame."
"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?" Dean hissed again, because Chuck was right and Dean had no answer for that.
Chuck didn't flinch. "If you don't break him, somebody will. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
Dean rubbed both hands over his face, sighing long and hard. "Fine. Let it happen then," Dean said with resolve, and Chuck didn't even try to hide the look of horror on his face. "Let somebody get to him and I can finish that bastard off and be done with your proph-"
"DEAN!"
A shout of his name cut him off mid-sentence. The unmistakable panic in the voice let Dean know something truly awful was happening. An inmate came into sight.
"Oh, thank God, I finally found you," the guy rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Come quick. It's Castiel."
The mention of the name made Dean headed out immediately, shouting back to Chuck, "Go get Gabriel!"
~:~:~
To say Dean snapped at what he saw was an understatement.
Cas was naked, on his knees, hands tied behind his back, with someone's cock shoved down his mouth. Dean hurled his fist at the culprit instantly, hitting his face so hard he could almost hear the cracking of bone.
"The boy is mine!" Dean shouted, splattering blood and knocking out a tooth as he threw another punch.
Somebody hurled Dean off and Dean knocked him away with a right cross. He turned back and was hit with a knee to the stomach, twice. Dean backed away from the assaults.
"I thought you were bored with him, Dean," the guy taunted, and Dean looked up to see it was Uriel, that bastard. "So I thought I'd play with him, you know, to keep him from getting too lonely."
"That boy toy is mine," Dean hissed, straightening up. He was ready for another fight. "I can play with him or not as I damn well please."
Dean took the first two jabs from Uriel. He returned with a one-two and dodged a swing. Dean countered with an uppercut to the ribs and series of straights to the torso. Once he got close enough, he locked his hands behind Uriel's neck and kneed him in the stomach one, two, three times, causing red blood to spill from his mouth. Uriel used his greater mass to heave Dean away.
Dean tried to maintain his balance but hits to his face and chest followed too quickly. He used his leg to throw Uriel off balance, unsuccessfully. But it did get Uriel to sway backwards. Dean followed with straight, hard punches to the face. Seeing Uriel become woozy, Dean struck him with a spinning kick right to his head. Uriel fell to the ground. Dean hurled himself atop the other man, throwing punch after punch after punch-
"Dean, stop it!"
The voice chimed in his ears like a bell. Someone held his arm, stopping his swing and Dean turned to see Cas. His bright eyes flickered with unfathomable expression. A blanket barely covered his naked body, and Dean saw bruises across his neck that he damn well knew weren't caused by him.
He abruptly stood up and, scruffing Cas by the neck, slammed his face on Uriel's chest. The bloody mess was just a nose tip away from Cas' face.
"Why, Cas?" he snarled. "You enjoyed sucking his dick so much that you don't want me to hurt him?" Cas shook his face against Dean's tight grip. New tears started rolling over old stains. "Tell you what, how about I cut his dick off and feed it to you for breakfast, huh? You like that? You man-whore!" he growled.
"No," Cas sobbed. "Dean, please."
"Need I remind you who you belong to?" Dean barked.
"I'm yours, Dean," Cas whimpered. "I'm yours."
"Good," Dean said, propelling Cas to his feet. He tightened the blanket, twisting his fingers into the cloth, and started walking. He stopped in front of Gabriel.
"Finish the job," Dean said, pointing to the heap of man-mess on the floor, and the troublemakers held captive by Dean's men. "I need to teach someone a lesson."
~:~:~
Dean threw Cas on the bed and threw himself on top of him. His worst fear had turned real. What would've happened if he hadn't gotten there fast enough? What if there were more men against him? What if he had lost the fight? He had to declare, again, that Cas was his, but would the message get across? How long would he have to live in fear that this might happen again? Or was that the last 'destruction' Chuck prophesied? Seeing Cas in such a vulnerable position had snapped him in half. His precious, delicate angel, his light-
"Dean, Dean, stop." Cas' voice broke his train of thought. "You're hurting yourself."
Hurting myself? What was he saying?
It took Dean a moment to realize that, in his attempt to 'teach a lesson', Dean was dry-humping them. Neither of them was hard.
Even now, after all that had happened, Cas still thought of Dean first. Cas should hate him, should be disgusted with him - and Dean deserved it for being the brutal dick that he was, for failing to keep Cas safe in spite of that fact.
"Why are you doing this to me, Cas?" Dean said meekly next to Cas' ear.
He wasn't aware he was shaking until he felt soothing hands stroking gently at his back. He wasn't aware he was spilling tears until he felt tender lips on his cheek, drinking them away. Dean nuzzled into the touch because it was so comforting, and comfort was what Dean had been lacking for so long.
Dean breathed in, basking in the feeling of Cas' caresses, of their intimacy, of the way his heart fluttered and the world reeled at it all. Their lips met, and Dean savored it like he would his favorite piece of apple pie. He nibbled chapped lips, tasting salty tears and softly smudging them. Cas slightly parted his lips and Dean ran his tongue along white lines of teeth, teasing but not entering. He felt a hand grasped at the back of his neck, neither pushing nor pulling but locking him in place.
Dean smiled against the shivering lips, and started kissing him, for real this time. He slipped his tongue in, groping and searching and learning every corner and every curve of the inside of Cas' mouth. Cas groaned into it, and while his hand was steady behind Dean's neck, his arms squeezed Dean tighter. Satisfied, Dean yielded, and take over Cas did; he sucked and sighed into Dean's lips, inviting him closer, wanting him more.
After Dean sweetly complied, he pulled away just enough to see Cas' flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, feeling Cas' chest heave beneath him. Dean rested his forehead against Cas', catching his breath when he smugly asked, "Aren't you going to bite my tongue off?"
Cas smiled, a hand coming to pat Dean on the cheek. "Maybe next time."
~:~:~
A/N: Let me know what you think of the chapter! If you still feel the urge to throw me rotten food, I suggest your veggies of choice not be green beans or celery. Alternatively, you can throw me West Collins, who basically eats the whole produce section.
More sexy times coming up. Stay tuned! :)