Castiel: "Dean, I don't want to have to hurt you."
Dean: "I don't think that's going to be a problem."
10x22
Castiel hadn't left. After everything that had been, he still hadn't abandoned him, hadn't forsaken him. As immovable as marble. A rock in his all-destructive surf. The waves reared high, the human sank, drowned, not willing to seize the proffered hand. You are going to die, Dean. The words echoed in his ears. Yes.
If Dean had just blinked once, he would probably have missed the moment as the angel suddenly grabbed him by the shoulders with inhuman precision and strength, and directed him back until he pressed him against the closest wall. "I can't let that happen, Dean."
Castiel had been under no illusions, Dean was human, a spark in infinity, he would die, someday. But that it would be so soon... There was after all still so much he had to tell him... He had assumed they still had time. Always, he had supposed that they would die together, side by side. At least that was how he had imagined it, that was how he had wished this life to end. But now he should let him go? He didn't feel able to endure that. So he had to be strong, for both of them, he just had to.
Startled Dean gasped. He sensed the wall in his back and Castiel's arm on his chest over his loud pounding heart. Utterly caught by surprise and perplexed by the rapid movement, he looked at him. His face was only a few inches from his own, closer than ever before, so close that he could feel his breath on his lips and taste his scent on them. Dean swallowed. That wasn't good, not good at all...
They had always been like parallel lines, always close, never together. Night blue in grass green, as if they were moon and earth, drawn to each other and yet they had never been able to touch, not really. The angel had been like a star that one saw shining in the sky, and to which one could stretch out one's hand as one wished, one would never reach him after all. But now they had triggered a supernova.
Like a blood-red rising sun, the curse rushed through Dean's veins and burned his body from the inside out. They were like two chemicals that became highly inflammable and explosive the moment they touched. Something that had been building up over many years threatened to break through. His half-hearted attempt to free himself from the grip, Castiel didn't even seem to notice. Would he beat him up like he had done in the alley at that time? (1)
Though nothing like this occured. The angel's expression was frozen to a hard mask as he said tonelessly: "Turn around."
Dean's heart skipped a beat just to continue its work at double the speed. Castiel wouldn't indeed...? Yes, he would. Everything about him left no doubt about it. That look in his eyes, the pressure of his hands, the vehemence of his body.
"Don't do that... Cas, please stop...", the hunter execrated his patheticly fragile voice. His voice said one thing, but his hands clung to the trench coat as if they would never want to let him go again, unwilling to give up this closeness.
"Either you or me." Castiel mentally pleaded that Dean should come to his senses, so that he did not have to do what he feared to have to do. The hunter's life had always come at a high price and the angel was willing to pay it.
"I can't", barely audible the words got out of his throat. No, he didn't want to. No, he didn't want to want it. Though the swooshing in his veins told him otherwise. But after what he had done to this woman on the previous new moon night... The danger of losing control again was too great. He couldn't hurt Castiel! He could not.
"Then you leave me no other choice." The angel's mien was opaque and inscrutable. And so the hunter saw nothing of the deep despair that drove him to this measure. Dean was by nature a strong, executive person. Castiel had to be stronger. Not physically. This was dealt with on a different level.
Dean shuddered, then he let himself be turned around without resistance, and propped himself up with both arms on the wall. Behind him he could already sense the warmth of Castiel's body, then hands on his hips, he winced. They ran around his waist, almost gently, and opened his pants. Without further ado, the man behind him reached into his boxer shorts and closed around his already incipient erection. Dean gasped. Immediately his body reacted. As much as he endeavored to block out the sensory impressions, his body betrayed him and reacted on its own, without his approval. His breathing quickened, his heart was pounding hard in his chest. Swiftly he closed his eyes and tried to keep his pulse under control. But when Castiel touched his tip, it was as if a high-voltage current was flowing through his nerve tracts.
Nothing suggested that Castiel felt lust or pleasure. Only the erect limb that pressed against Dean's buttocks proved the willingness of the flesh to take the next step. A shivering ran through the human body.
"Don't...", his voice sounded hoarser and far less emphatic than intended. Dean tried to convince himself that it was because he had no chance anyway. Attempting to escape the situation or fight the angel would have made no sense. This one was much more powerful than him in any case. Moreover, Dean didn't want to fight anymore, he didn't want anymore. But was that truly the only reason he didn't offer resistance?
"I'm sorry", he heard Castiel say behind him. And he believed him. The need to see his face became almost overwhelming. Dean wanted to look his best friend in the eye when he was doing what friends never did.
Though Castiel held him in place, definitively shoved his pants off his hips and bared him. In acquiescent acceptance, Dean closed his eyes. Fingers went down his spine, inexorably deeper and deeper... as if they knew their destination very well. Above his tailbone they slowed, in awe of the intimacy they would be performing. They slid between his thighs and, with slight pressure, touched his entrance, began to circle. One hand massaged his private parts again, the other a place that no one had touched before. Castiel tried to distract him, drove him so far until his breath came only in fitful gusts over his lips. Then he increased the pressure and inserted a finger. Firmly Dean bit his lower lip and swore under his breath. So new was this feeling that the need to fight it was almost overwhelming. The urge to back away from him and the yearning to stretch out towards him fought a battle in Dean that no one was able to win.
Suddenly the hands were gone. Trembling, Dean gasped for air. He heard the clink of a belt buckle, the rattle of a zipper, and the rustle of fabric. Then breath on the back of his neck. Dean tensed up, closed his eyelids over the dilated pupils and tried to prepare mentally for what would inevitably come now.
Then there was a hand on his left. A hand, strong and large, very different from women's hands. At first it pressed his own palm firmer against the wood-paneled wall, but a hesitant moment later, their fingers intertwined so tightly it almost hurt. Dean forgot his fear for a precious moment, in the face and in the certitude of what was going to betide. Because he knew whatever was happening, he was being held.
Dean didn't resist. Castiel wept.
Dean felt the wet glans at his most sensitive spot. His back arched as the foreign limb breached his muscular ring. He felt every millimeter. In desperation he clenched his teeth. Despite anticipating it, the intense ache was a shock. Harrowed he cried out, yet Castiel penetrated unrelentingly further into him, still slowly and patiently but absolutely unyielding. And Dean didn't resist, because he knew this was compensatory justice. He would have considered the angel as cold-hearted and callous if he hadn't felt Castiel's silent weeping. Hot tears fell on Dean's neck and ran down his back in salty paths.
The angel pulled him from behind into an embrace. He felt warm hands on his chest and lower abdomen. They kept his hips inplace and caressed his upper torso. His skin tingled wherever they had been. Surrendering, acquiescent, devoted, Dean let his head fall back on Castiel's shoulder. The gentle touches stood in such distinct contrast to the sharp pain that pervaded his body that he almost lost his mind. The pulsating limb deep within him. All-surpassing intimacy. Overwhelmingly filled out. Cas was inside of him. He was completely in him and it fucking hurt, but that was good, he wanted this. That realization made him dizzy.
"Breathe, Dean", Castiel's voice sounded deliberately composed, as if he wanted to give Dean the hold that he himself had long since lost.
The human took a shaky breath. He was stretched to the limit of what was bearable and beyond. Then Castiel began to move. Dean couldn't prevent a pitiful whimper from leaving his throat. He believed his legs could no longer hold him, would just give way under him. But he sensed Castiel's strength, his arms around his body, his chest on his back, the firm grip of his hands, his thrusts, over and over again. Castiel held him, comforted him through the pain and the pleasure until Dean was ready. A shock wave that shook his body and he knew he was lost.
Castiel pressed himself into the twitching body while the hunter reached the climax, as if he wanted to make sure that Dean did not withdraw from him in the convulsions. Pinned against the wall by the unyielding body, his muscles contracted again and again around the hard penis deep inside him. Had Castiel not kept hold of him, he would have collapsed for his legs did no longer bear him. Strong arms shored him as the still stiff limb slowly slipped out of him. Not until now that the fog of lust had cleared and the arousal had faded, did he perceive how sore his abdomen felt. Dean sagged.
"Let me heal you, Dean", Castiel's voice permeated through the thrumming in his ears.
"No...", he pushed his hand away, "No. I deserve that."
He stood up with a groan. With his eyes fixed on the floor, he put his pants back on, went tottering towards the bathroom, leaned on the frame and then locked the door behind him. Dazed and staggering, he closed his eyes, struggled with himself, then he looked in the mirror, looked into his own reddened eyes.
Melanie. Her name was Melanie.
Claire: "Dean Winchester is a monster."
Castiel: "It's possible there's a little monster in all of us."
- SPN scene 5x18 In the alley: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DYRHeyzDw_8
(song to the chapter: "A Monster Like Me" by Morland, Debrah Scarlett, The Oslo Philharmonic Choir)
