SPN: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie - Chapter 6
Title: It's in Your Eyes, Where the Shadows Lie
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
Castiel shoved Dean against the wall, body pressed up tight against him as he soaked in the taste of righteousness. With each moan from Dean, Castiel’s dick twitched in the confines of Jimmy’s hip-hugging jeans. It was a battle for domination as Dean was forced into the backseat, subverted by the power of Castiel’s grip and his wanton tongue.
“D-damn, Jim,” Dean moaned, shuddering when Castiel’s fingers dug into his arms.
Castiel tried to ignore the blinding, white hot jealousy that sent his blood boiling at the sound of his name.
“Never took you for the aggressive type,” Dean said, gasping when he felt Castiel bite down onto his neck. Castiel could feel that quickening pulse beneath his tongue and like a nurse tending to the wounded, soothed the reddened skin with his suckling lips. Dean’s rock hard erection against his thigh told him how much Dean liked being claimed.
From across the room, Lucifer’s laughter broke the thin veil of Castiel’s concentration. “Patience, young Skywalker. I’ve seen dogs copulate with more dignity.”
“We should move to the bedroom,” Castiel whispered, his voice low and husky, like sandpaper rubbing over gravel.
“F-fuck, Jim…s’at your bedroom voice?” Dean murmured, hips grinding up against Castiel’s. The contact was both ecstasy and torture for the angel and made him yearn for the moment when he would rip away the barriers hiding Dean’s soul from him. “I like it.”
Hands tugged roughly at Dean’s shirt, dragging him forward as Castiel walked backwards towards Jimmy’s bedroom. While Dean stumbled along, lips hungrily refusing to break from Castiel’s as they drank each other in, Castiel’s confident strides were unwavering, the holy shepherd leading his sacrificial lamb to its altar. Shirts became discarded along the way so that by the time Castiel’s bare back crashed against the cold surface of the bedroom wall, he could feel Dean’s exposed chest press against his, the heat of skin-on-skin causing more blood to rush to his already rock-hard cock. His tongue stroked against Dean’s and it made him ache to feel that liquid heat around his erection.
Maybe it was the pull of human arousal, its tempting kiss drowning Castiel in all that was Dean that made patience a lost cause. As Dean pulled back for air, gasping and grinding against Castiel, tiny moans buried in the crook of Castiel’s neck, Castiel gripped Dean tightly. Already it had started and he would be the one to raise Dean from perdition, from the vices and toils of humanity, and set his soul free.
He pushed Dean down onto his knees, right hand gripping Dean’s exposed left arm so tightly Castiel imagined he was burning his mark on Dean’s soul. Looking down into those blown, green eyes, a cage of lust and submission waiting to burst forth at the command of his voice, Castiel had to bite back his moan when Dean’s fingers ghosted over his clothed erection.
“I-I’ve waited…too long for this,” Castiel murmured.
His fingers laced into Dean’s side-swept hair, his confession hanging in the air and threatening to be swallowed by the shadows in the room. But where the darkness lurked, he could make out Lucifer’s ever watching eyes, an angel on an angel’s shoulder and Castiel’s guiding light in an unforgiving world that he was tethered to. When Lucifer smiled his approval, Castiel smiled with him, a twitch of his lips that was foreign on Jimmy’s face. The signs were all there: yet Dean couldn’t see through the haze of the masquerade.
Instead, the zipper to Jimmy’s jeans shattered the silence in the room and when Castiel looked down, stroking Dean’s hair affectionately, he was met with a devilish smirk.
“Don’t worry, baby; I live up to my reputation.”
When Dean pulled his cock free from his boxers, Castiel was unable to hold back the groan nestled at the back of his throat. His hand rested at the back of Dean’s head, tugging impatiently as Dean’s fingers slid over the throbbing length of his cock. It was intoxicating and Castiel was quickly sinking deep into this abyss of human vice.
“Easy now,” Dean said, voice a whisper against the head. Rounding his lips, he drew Castiel in slowly, a long, leisurely suction that had Castiel seeing stars. His sharp intake of breath was the only indication that their roles were reversed: Castiel was putty in Dean’s hands. He could already feel his control slipping as he moaned and Dean sucked, mouth sliding confidently over Castiel’s cock.
“Someone’s making you their bitch,” Lucifer taunted. The cold chuckle was for Castiel and Castiel alone and had its intended affect: it filled Castiel with shame, a shame that he had buried deep inside when he promised Jimmy he could take away his pain. Instead of green, sultry eyes, Castiel was seeing brown. Instead of Dean’s strong hands on Jimmy’s hips, Castiel pictured small, tiny hands and a face framed with messy, red locks…
Yanking back Dean’s head off his cock none-too-gently, Castiel stared down into his surprised face, lips swollen from their harsh kisses exchanged earlier, gleaming with traces of saliva. Castiel wouldn’t let his vessel be used again, not like it had when Jimmy was nothing more than a whimpering adolescent at the hands of his own flesh and blood’s depravity. No; if Dean Smith’s mouth was getting fucked, it was getting fucked good and proper.
“I make the rules.”
To his amusement, Dean was turning out to be more receptive to his demands than Castiel had anticipated. This was something he had overlooked in his silent observations.
When he shoved back into Dean’s mouth, sinking so far he hit the back of Dean’s throat, an unexpected moan erupted in Dean’s mouth, reverberating against his cock and sending trills of pleasure down the vessel’s spine. Castiel instinctively thrust forward again, leaving little time for Dean to adjust to the pace that he set. With both hands gripping Dean’s head tightly, Castiel bucked his hips, living true to his silent promise for complete control.
Although Dean gave himself willingly to Castiel’s command, his tongue moved to its own tune, alternating between rubbing and sucking in what little space Castiel’s rhythm allotted for technique. Even with Castiel holding the reigns, Dean’s mouth was breaking him down in ways he couldn’t describe and the need to feel Dean, the warmth of his insides curling around Castiel’s throbbing cock, was pushing the angel closer to the edge.
“N-not like this,” Castiel grunted, pulling out of Dean reluctantly. Head falling back heavily against the wall, chest heaving from panting, Castiel closed his eyes and resisted every urge to thrust back into that hot furnace and empty himself until Dean choked on his bitter cum. He pictured, instead, what it would be like to open Dean up, bury his hands into the heat of Dean’s body, intestines and organs twisting around his wrists as he reached underneath Dean’s ribs, encircling that still pounding heart, the essence of Dean’s physical existence left to the will of an angel of the Lord…
“Bed.”
Pupils blown and hungry with need, Castiel opened his eyes, staring at Dean predatorily. Jimmy’s employer shivered visibly, with want or from intimidation, Castiel couldn’t be sure. But as he slid out of his fitted pants and boxers, he asked Castiel, “How do you want me?”
It was permission. What separates angels from demons, or so Lucifer had explained to Castiel long ago, was that angels required the acquiescence of their human hosts. Or, in this case, if Castiel were to finally take all of Dean, he required Dean’s permission for access to his soul.
“Do you give yourself willingly?” he inquired, impassive face twitching with his bemusement. Castiel still hadn’t quite mastered human expression.
Dean leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss, erection rubbing up against the vessel’s own. Biting playfully on his lower lip, Dean said to Castiel, “Anyway you want, baby.”
“I expected more of a fight from him,” Lucifer said, looking a bit bored.
Castiel turned Dean around and pushed him a few steps forward, shoving him face down and bent over the queen-sized bed. Kicking off Jimmy’s jeans, Castiel closed the distance between them. Coating his fingers in a thin coat of saliva, he wasted no time in pressing them against Dean’s hole and shoving them deep inside.
“F-fuck, Jimmy!” Dean cried out, bucking against the mattress.
It was more generous than Castiel ever was with the prostitutes he had picked up over the years. He never bothered with even saliva and when they protested against his methods, he often found ways to silence them sooner than intended. After all, the beauty of fucking a dead body is that it could no longer bitch.
By the time Castiel added a third finger, Dean had become a whimpering mess. The tight, ring of muscles pulsed around his fingers, the heat of Dean’s body nearly pushing Castiel to the edge as his cock dripped impatiently, smearing drops of cum on the back of Dean’s thigh. He pushed further, searching for that spot that would ruin Dean, make him whine and beg until Castiel filled him. It was there, just a bit deeper…
“J-Jimmy, f-fuck! P-please…!”
Dean’s hoarse cry pleased Castiel, solidified his claim. He slowly withdrew his fingers, Dean begging and pleading to have ‘Jimmy’s’ cock inside of him. His pleading caused more cold laughter to erupt from Lucifer, tall frame now being supported by the wall in an effort to keep from keeling over.
“Silence,” Castiel commanded, annoyed by Lucifer, whose vessel’s voice was sounding a bit grating. Dean, however, shuddered beneath Castiel and bit his lip in an effort to hold back his whimpers.
Erection pressed against Dean’s entrance, Castiel’s hands on Dean’s hips kept Dean from pushing back to bury that cock as deep as it would go. With patience that Castiel considered otherworldly, due in part to being otherworldly, he leaned forward until his lips brushed the edge of Dean’s right ear. “So beautiful,” he whispered, coldly. Lips twitched in what could have been a smirk, “Tonight, you’re my bitch.”
Without any lubricant, Castiel pushed into Dean, hands gripping Dean’s hips so tightly they left harsh, red abrasions. Dean cried out, voice raw with both pain and need as Castiel felt the tight, swell of ringed muscle tear around his cock. Patience foregone, he didn’t give Dean any time to adjust to his intrusion and quickly pulled back, thrusting in again with a force that made Dean collapse against the bed, calling out again brokenly. By the time his hips smacked loudly against Dean a third time, Castiel was already building up to a steady rhythm, each thrust allowing him to sink more easily into Dean’s quivering body.
The buildup was quick and Castiel knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. Years of waiting and it came down to this, fucking Dean into the bed as if he were nothing more than a 10-cent whore, his body and soul left to the angel’s disposal. Dean’s hands gripped tightly at the sheets, body arched catlike up towards Castiel, begging for him like a bitch in heat. In some ways, it angered him, how this was all meant for Jimmy, how Dean had given himself over so easily to that whimpering, whiny, fucked up excuse for a human. But when Jimmy had first accepted Castiel years ago, by default, all that Jimmy had claim to then became Castiel’s.
But Castiel still wanted to hear Dean say it, wanted Dean to know who he belonged to, who he had given himself to. As he continued to thrust and smack into Dean, with a fervor that only a masochist could find pleasant, Castiel grabbed Dean’s hair and yanked back his head. “You’re mine and mine only,” Castiel moaned, whispering into Dean’s ear. He bit down hard on the back of Dean’s neck.
“A-all y-yours,” Dean choked out, groaning.
Castiel could taste blood on his lips, could feel that body tighten beneath him. And he knew that this was it, that Dean was on the edge and he was about to push him off.
“S-say it again!” he demanded, gravelly voice raw and wrecked. Castiel reached around to grip Dean’s cock.
“A-all y-yours, J-Jimmy! A-all y-yours…f-fuck!”
Dean cried out as Castiel’s hand ghosted over his cock, body convulsing. White, hot cum spurted out onto Castiel’s hand, Dean’s body tightening beneath him. Castiel weakly rode Dean through his orgasm but the way that name, his name, seemed to echo off the walls, taunting Castiel, it took all the drive out of Castiel.
As Dean collapsed on the sheets, a sweaty, panting mess, Castiel pulled out of him, erection still present but starting to soften. It was like a jeer in his head, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, and it wouldn’t stop.
Dean weakly pulled his body up until he was sprawled across the bed, head resting on one of the pillows. He tugged lightly on Castiel’s wrist until Castiel dully complied, allowing himself to be pulled down into Dean’s open arms. Dean smiled lazily at him but for once, it had little effect on Castiel, who stared blankly into Dean’s face.
Dean’s smile quickly faded, “Is something wrong, Jim?”
Dean shifted a little, wincing, and his eyes widened. “Wait, you didn’t-”
“I just need a moment to…rest,” Castiel said. Truthfully, he had no interest in entering back into Dean, hearing Dean say Jimmy’s name, watching Dean cum to the mistaken feel of Jimmy. It was disappointing but Castiel always knew it had to be this way.
Leaning in, he placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face and kissed him softly, feeling Dean smile against his lips. He pulled back and stared into those brilliant, moss green eyes, eyes that often haunted him and made him realize that he had to have Dean. After a moment, he asked, “Would it please you if I came?”
“I’m not one to leave a man hanging,” Dean said, grinning.
And Castiel smiled. Really smiled. A smile that must have looked very odd on his face since Dean became visibly uncomfortable.
“…Jim?”
SNAP!
Dean’s body became limp against the bedspread, head twisted and eyes glazing over. A shame, really. Castiel was rather fond of those eyes.
His pulse quickened, breath coming out in short gasps as he felt that body, still and lifeless but warm, beneath his hands. Dean’s chest…hard and well-toned. Those lips…still moist, Castiel couldn’t help but muse, as he pressed his own against them.
His dick popped back up, rock hard and dripping as Castiel climbed on top of Dean’s corpse. Castiel’s breath was now ragged and he whined as he weakly bucked against Dean, an animal lost in delirium in the most primal of instincts. His cock rubbed against Dean’s abdomen and Castiel was so close…so close he could feel eternity at the edge of his fingers.
“D-Dean,” he whimpered and groaned.
He had to look into those eyes. Into the green.
Gripping at Dean’s face, he turned Dean’s head until he was staring into endless green, a lifeless echo of what they once were. Thrusting and crying, tears dripping from his cheeks as he rubbed himself hoarse against the body, Castiel came with a force, lost in Dean’s eyes, squirting cum in between both the corpse and his vessel.
Once he had ridden through his orgasm, he collapsed against the body, shuddering. He closed his eyes and could still see green. Always green.
After what felt like hours, clinging to Dean in the sea of green that would not leave, a voice cut into Castiel’s scattered thoughts.
“So, this is the great Dean Smith?”
Castiel blinked owlishly, watching Lucifer tilt his head curiously as he leaned over Dean’s corpse. After a moment, Lucifer snorted distastefully. “They all look the same to me.”
“This one is different,” Castiel said defensively, sitting up and straddling the body. Dried cum stained his abdomen. He ignored the disgusted look on Lucifer’s face. “We have both seen into his soul: he is the Righteous Man.”
“I don’t care what he is,” Lucifer said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment, cold stare settled on Castiel’s face. A look of understanding passed between them. “Finish it.”
Castiel hesitated, fingers delicately tracing the line of Dean’s collarbone. “I-I am unsure of which part to take first.”
And it was true. For years, he had waited for this. Now that he was here, in this moment, Castiel wasn’t sure where to begin.
“You always did have a thing for his eyes.”
At the suggestion, Castiel looked into Dean’s face. “It does seem fitting.”
He reached forward.
Lucifer smiled.
Epilogue
Beta: verucasalt123
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC-17
Genre: It's a Terrible Life AU verse, Horror, Drama, Dark themes, Angst
Pairings: Jimmy/Dean, Castiel/Dean, mentions of Dean/'Dr.Sexy' and Dean/OMCs
Spoilers: For the AU verse in episode 4.17; none for canon
Warnings: PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE READING! Language, stalking, gore, sex, d/s themes, sex between minors (under 13, not descriptive), major character death Dean, cannibalism, necrophilia, twincest, incest, pedophilia, patricide, non-con, dub-con, suicide, mental illness (Dissociative Identity Disorder), hallucinations
Word Count: 17 000 (in total)
Summary: Jimmy Novak has been working as Dean Smith's secretary for the last two years. After two years of crushing on his employer, Jimmy and Dean finally go out on a date. However, unknown to Dean, Castiel has also taken an interest in him and Dean's stalker will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.
A/N: Written as part of the dc-dystopia Challenge. All submissions have dark themes so I strongly suggest that you READ THE WARNINGS before reading my fic. The appearances of pedophilia and sex between minors has been intentionally kept non-descriptive in adherence to LiveJournal's Terms of Service. If even one of the warning themes disturbs you, I highly recommend you don't read this.
Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | Epilogue | Art Masterpost
Castiel shoved Dean against the wall, body pressed up tight against him as he soaked in the taste of righteousness. With each moan from Dean, Castiel’s dick twitched in the confines of Jimmy’s hip-hugging jeans. It was a battle for domination as Dean was forced into the backseat, subverted by the power of Castiel’s grip and his wanton tongue.
“D-damn, Jim,” Dean moaned, shuddering when Castiel’s fingers dug into his arms.
Castiel tried to ignore the blinding, white hot jealousy that sent his blood boiling at the sound of his name.
“Never took you for the aggressive type,” Dean said, gasping when he felt Castiel bite down onto his neck. Castiel could feel that quickening pulse beneath his tongue and like a nurse tending to the wounded, soothed the reddened skin with his suckling lips. Dean’s rock hard erection against his thigh told him how much Dean liked being claimed.
From across the room, Lucifer’s laughter broke the thin veil of Castiel’s concentration. “Patience, young Skywalker. I’ve seen dogs copulate with more dignity.”
“We should move to the bedroom,” Castiel whispered, his voice low and husky, like sandpaper rubbing over gravel.
“F-fuck, Jim…s’at your bedroom voice?” Dean murmured, hips grinding up against Castiel’s. The contact was both ecstasy and torture for the angel and made him yearn for the moment when he would rip away the barriers hiding Dean’s soul from him. “I like it.”
Hands tugged roughly at Dean’s shirt, dragging him forward as Castiel walked backwards towards Jimmy’s bedroom. While Dean stumbled along, lips hungrily refusing to break from Castiel’s as they drank each other in, Castiel’s confident strides were unwavering, the holy shepherd leading his sacrificial lamb to its altar. Shirts became discarded along the way so that by the time Castiel’s bare back crashed against the cold surface of the bedroom wall, he could feel Dean’s exposed chest press against his, the heat of skin-on-skin causing more blood to rush to his already rock-hard cock. His tongue stroked against Dean’s and it made him ache to feel that liquid heat around his erection.
Maybe it was the pull of human arousal, its tempting kiss drowning Castiel in all that was Dean that made patience a lost cause. As Dean pulled back for air, gasping and grinding against Castiel, tiny moans buried in the crook of Castiel’s neck, Castiel gripped Dean tightly. Already it had started and he would be the one to raise Dean from perdition, from the vices and toils of humanity, and set his soul free.
He pushed Dean down onto his knees, right hand gripping Dean’s exposed left arm so tightly Castiel imagined he was burning his mark on Dean’s soul. Looking down into those blown, green eyes, a cage of lust and submission waiting to burst forth at the command of his voice, Castiel had to bite back his moan when Dean’s fingers ghosted over his clothed erection.
“I-I’ve waited…too long for this,” Castiel murmured.
His fingers laced into Dean’s side-swept hair, his confession hanging in the air and threatening to be swallowed by the shadows in the room. But where the darkness lurked, he could make out Lucifer’s ever watching eyes, an angel on an angel’s shoulder and Castiel’s guiding light in an unforgiving world that he was tethered to. When Lucifer smiled his approval, Castiel smiled with him, a twitch of his lips that was foreign on Jimmy’s face. The signs were all there: yet Dean couldn’t see through the haze of the masquerade.
Instead, the zipper to Jimmy’s jeans shattered the silence in the room and when Castiel looked down, stroking Dean’s hair affectionately, he was met with a devilish smirk.
“Don’t worry, baby; I live up to my reputation.”
When Dean pulled his cock free from his boxers, Castiel was unable to hold back the groan nestled at the back of his throat. His hand rested at the back of Dean’s head, tugging impatiently as Dean’s fingers slid over the throbbing length of his cock. It was intoxicating and Castiel was quickly sinking deep into this abyss of human vice.
“Easy now,” Dean said, voice a whisper against the head. Rounding his lips, he drew Castiel in slowly, a long, leisurely suction that had Castiel seeing stars. His sharp intake of breath was the only indication that their roles were reversed: Castiel was putty in Dean’s hands. He could already feel his control slipping as he moaned and Dean sucked, mouth sliding confidently over Castiel’s cock.
“Someone’s making you their bitch,” Lucifer taunted. The cold chuckle was for Castiel and Castiel alone and had its intended affect: it filled Castiel with shame, a shame that he had buried deep inside when he promised Jimmy he could take away his pain. Instead of green, sultry eyes, Castiel was seeing brown. Instead of Dean’s strong hands on Jimmy’s hips, Castiel pictured small, tiny hands and a face framed with messy, red locks…
Yanking back Dean’s head off his cock none-too-gently, Castiel stared down into his surprised face, lips swollen from their harsh kisses exchanged earlier, gleaming with traces of saliva. Castiel wouldn’t let his vessel be used again, not like it had when Jimmy was nothing more than a whimpering adolescent at the hands of his own flesh and blood’s depravity. No; if Dean Smith’s mouth was getting fucked, it was getting fucked good and proper.
“I make the rules.”
To his amusement, Dean was turning out to be more receptive to his demands than Castiel had anticipated. This was something he had overlooked in his silent observations.
When he shoved back into Dean’s mouth, sinking so far he hit the back of Dean’s throat, an unexpected moan erupted in Dean’s mouth, reverberating against his cock and sending trills of pleasure down the vessel’s spine. Castiel instinctively thrust forward again, leaving little time for Dean to adjust to the pace that he set. With both hands gripping Dean’s head tightly, Castiel bucked his hips, living true to his silent promise for complete control.
Although Dean gave himself willingly to Castiel’s command, his tongue moved to its own tune, alternating between rubbing and sucking in what little space Castiel’s rhythm allotted for technique. Even with Castiel holding the reigns, Dean’s mouth was breaking him down in ways he couldn’t describe and the need to feel Dean, the warmth of his insides curling around Castiel’s throbbing cock, was pushing the angel closer to the edge.
“N-not like this,” Castiel grunted, pulling out of Dean reluctantly. Head falling back heavily against the wall, chest heaving from panting, Castiel closed his eyes and resisted every urge to thrust back into that hot furnace and empty himself until Dean choked on his bitter cum. He pictured, instead, what it would be like to open Dean up, bury his hands into the heat of Dean’s body, intestines and organs twisting around his wrists as he reached underneath Dean’s ribs, encircling that still pounding heart, the essence of Dean’s physical existence left to the will of an angel of the Lord…
“Bed.”
Pupils blown and hungry with need, Castiel opened his eyes, staring at Dean predatorily. Jimmy’s employer shivered visibly, with want or from intimidation, Castiel couldn’t be sure. But as he slid out of his fitted pants and boxers, he asked Castiel, “How do you want me?”
It was permission. What separates angels from demons, or so Lucifer had explained to Castiel long ago, was that angels required the acquiescence of their human hosts. Or, in this case, if Castiel were to finally take all of Dean, he required Dean’s permission for access to his soul.
“Do you give yourself willingly?” he inquired, impassive face twitching with his bemusement. Castiel still hadn’t quite mastered human expression.
Dean leaned forward and captured his lips in a searing kiss, erection rubbing up against the vessel’s own. Biting playfully on his lower lip, Dean said to Castiel, “Anyway you want, baby.”
“I expected more of a fight from him,” Lucifer said, looking a bit bored.
Castiel turned Dean around and pushed him a few steps forward, shoving him face down and bent over the queen-sized bed. Kicking off Jimmy’s jeans, Castiel closed the distance between them. Coating his fingers in a thin coat of saliva, he wasted no time in pressing them against Dean’s hole and shoving them deep inside.
“F-fuck, Jimmy!” Dean cried out, bucking against the mattress.
It was more generous than Castiel ever was with the prostitutes he had picked up over the years. He never bothered with even saliva and when they protested against his methods, he often found ways to silence them sooner than intended. After all, the beauty of fucking a dead body is that it could no longer bitch.
By the time Castiel added a third finger, Dean had become a whimpering mess. The tight, ring of muscles pulsed around his fingers, the heat of Dean’s body nearly pushing Castiel to the edge as his cock dripped impatiently, smearing drops of cum on the back of Dean’s thigh. He pushed further, searching for that spot that would ruin Dean, make him whine and beg until Castiel filled him. It was there, just a bit deeper…
“J-Jimmy, f-fuck! P-please…!”
Dean’s hoarse cry pleased Castiel, solidified his claim. He slowly withdrew his fingers, Dean begging and pleading to have ‘Jimmy’s’ cock inside of him. His pleading caused more cold laughter to erupt from Lucifer, tall frame now being supported by the wall in an effort to keep from keeling over.
“Silence,” Castiel commanded, annoyed by Lucifer, whose vessel’s voice was sounding a bit grating. Dean, however, shuddered beneath Castiel and bit his lip in an effort to hold back his whimpers.
Erection pressed against Dean’s entrance, Castiel’s hands on Dean’s hips kept Dean from pushing back to bury that cock as deep as it would go. With patience that Castiel considered otherworldly, due in part to being otherworldly, he leaned forward until his lips brushed the edge of Dean’s right ear. “So beautiful,” he whispered, coldly. Lips twitched in what could have been a smirk, “Tonight, you’re my bitch.”
Without any lubricant, Castiel pushed into Dean, hands gripping Dean’s hips so tightly they left harsh, red abrasions. Dean cried out, voice raw with both pain and need as Castiel felt the tight, swell of ringed muscle tear around his cock. Patience foregone, he didn’t give Dean any time to adjust to his intrusion and quickly pulled back, thrusting in again with a force that made Dean collapse against the bed, calling out again brokenly. By the time his hips smacked loudly against Dean a third time, Castiel was already building up to a steady rhythm, each thrust allowing him to sink more easily into Dean’s quivering body.
The buildup was quick and Castiel knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. Years of waiting and it came down to this, fucking Dean into the bed as if he were nothing more than a 10-cent whore, his body and soul left to the angel’s disposal. Dean’s hands gripped tightly at the sheets, body arched catlike up towards Castiel, begging for him like a bitch in heat. In some ways, it angered him, how this was all meant for Jimmy, how Dean had given himself over so easily to that whimpering, whiny, fucked up excuse for a human. But when Jimmy had first accepted Castiel years ago, by default, all that Jimmy had claim to then became Castiel’s.
But Castiel still wanted to hear Dean say it, wanted Dean to know who he belonged to, who he had given himself to. As he continued to thrust and smack into Dean, with a fervor that only a masochist could find pleasant, Castiel grabbed Dean’s hair and yanked back his head. “You’re mine and mine only,” Castiel moaned, whispering into Dean’s ear. He bit down hard on the back of Dean’s neck.
“A-all y-yours,” Dean choked out, groaning.
Castiel could taste blood on his lips, could feel that body tighten beneath him. And he knew that this was it, that Dean was on the edge and he was about to push him off.
“S-say it again!” he demanded, gravelly voice raw and wrecked. Castiel reached around to grip Dean’s cock.
“A-all y-yours, J-Jimmy! A-all y-yours…f-fuck!”
Dean cried out as Castiel’s hand ghosted over his cock, body convulsing. White, hot cum spurted out onto Castiel’s hand, Dean’s body tightening beneath him. Castiel weakly rode Dean through his orgasm but the way that name, his name, seemed to echo off the walls, taunting Castiel, it took all the drive out of Castiel.
As Dean collapsed on the sheets, a sweaty, panting mess, Castiel pulled out of him, erection still present but starting to soften. It was like a jeer in his head, Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy Jimmy, and it wouldn’t stop.
Dean weakly pulled his body up until he was sprawled across the bed, head resting on one of the pillows. He tugged lightly on Castiel’s wrist until Castiel dully complied, allowing himself to be pulled down into Dean’s open arms. Dean smiled lazily at him but for once, it had little effect on Castiel, who stared blankly into Dean’s face.
Dean’s smile quickly faded, “Is something wrong, Jim?”
Dean shifted a little, wincing, and his eyes widened. “Wait, you didn’t-”
“I just need a moment to…rest,” Castiel said. Truthfully, he had no interest in entering back into Dean, hearing Dean say Jimmy’s name, watching Dean cum to the mistaken feel of Jimmy. It was disappointing but Castiel always knew it had to be this way.
Leaning in, he placed his hands on either side of Dean’s face and kissed him softly, feeling Dean smile against his lips. He pulled back and stared into those brilliant, moss green eyes, eyes that often haunted him and made him realize that he had to have Dean. After a moment, he asked, “Would it please you if I came?”
“I’m not one to leave a man hanging,” Dean said, grinning.
And Castiel smiled. Really smiled. A smile that must have looked very odd on his face since Dean became visibly uncomfortable.
“…Jim?”
SNAP!
Dean’s body became limp against the bedspread, head twisted and eyes glazing over. A shame, really. Castiel was rather fond of those eyes.
His pulse quickened, breath coming out in short gasps as he felt that body, still and lifeless but warm, beneath his hands. Dean’s chest…hard and well-toned. Those lips…still moist, Castiel couldn’t help but muse, as he pressed his own against them.
His dick popped back up, rock hard and dripping as Castiel climbed on top of Dean’s corpse. Castiel’s breath was now ragged and he whined as he weakly bucked against Dean, an animal lost in delirium in the most primal of instincts. His cock rubbed against Dean’s abdomen and Castiel was so close…so close he could feel eternity at the edge of his fingers.
“D-Dean,” he whimpered and groaned.
He had to look into those eyes. Into the green.
Gripping at Dean’s face, he turned Dean’s head until he was staring into endless green, a lifeless echo of what they once were. Thrusting and crying, tears dripping from his cheeks as he rubbed himself hoarse against the body, Castiel came with a force, lost in Dean’s eyes, squirting cum in between both the corpse and his vessel.
Once he had ridden through his orgasm, he collapsed against the body, shuddering. He closed his eyes and could still see green. Always green.
After what felt like hours, clinging to Dean in the sea of green that would not leave, a voice cut into Castiel’s scattered thoughts.
“So, this is the great Dean Smith?”
Castiel blinked owlishly, watching Lucifer tilt his head curiously as he leaned over Dean’s corpse. After a moment, Lucifer snorted distastefully. “They all look the same to me.”
“This one is different,” Castiel said defensively, sitting up and straddling the body. Dried cum stained his abdomen. He ignored the disgusted look on Lucifer’s face. “We have both seen into his soul: he is the Righteous Man.”
“I don’t care what he is,” Lucifer said, sitting on the edge of the bed. He paused for a moment, cold stare settled on Castiel’s face. A look of understanding passed between them. “Finish it.”
Castiel hesitated, fingers delicately tracing the line of Dean’s collarbone. “I-I am unsure of which part to take first.”
And it was true. For years, he had waited for this. Now that he was here, in this moment, Castiel wasn’t sure where to begin.
“You always did have a thing for his eyes.”
At the suggestion, Castiel looked into Dean’s face. “It does seem fitting.”
He reached forward.
Lucifer smiled.
Epilogue