Pairing: Dean/Castiel, Sam/Gabriel
Dean and Sam are caught by an enemy were-cat colony, where the Alpha and Beta begin giving them unwanted and unexpected attention.
Fuck. We were screwed. I could sense them behind us, gaining fast. They knew the territory better than we did, and despite the blow it is to my pride, I know that Sam and I aren't as fast as we could be. We'd been slacking off with patrols and hunts and now we were paying the price for it; deep in were-cat marshlands with nowhere to run or hide.
The marshes are vast and deadly. They'd have to be to create such inhabitants. There are deep pits that don't look like pits buried under the wet grass and boggy fields. There are no trees, no cover, and with the recent rains they're even worse. My pack lives right on the border where trees start growing, and we can't see them anywhere. We're in so deep.
Sam and I ran, and behind us we could hear their growls and their panted breaths. Sam's huge bulk was a comforting shadow behind me and I slowed as I saw him disappear with a yelp of surprise and pain. The ground gave under my feet, sending me sliding several yards before I regained my balance and returned for my brother. He was sprawled awkwardly, his brown-gold coat splattered with mud, and as I crept forward, wary of our pursuers, he whined at me, ears flat back.
Broke my leg. Damn pits, he voiced, trying to get up and growling in agony when his right foreleg gave under his weight. Can't run. Get away, Dean. Don't let them catch you.
Like Hell, Sammy, I replied, hackles raising just slightly at even the suggestion that I would leave my baby brother behind. I crept closer, shielding his body with my own from our invisible enemy. Change back, Sammy, and I'll carry you.
It'll slow you down, he grit out.
Don't care. Do it before I bite you.
They were getting closer, but luckily Sam was quick at phasing from one form to another. When he was human it was only a matter of getting my head between his legs, and his physical upper body strength would do the rest; he hauled himself onto my back, and I yelped a little as he tore at the scruff, which was still tender after my fight with Gordon – a subordinate in my pack. When I thought he was safely on I began to run again, mindful of my little brother's injury but also very much aware of our pursuit.
I could begin to see the trees now, five miles away. If I could get there in time I would be over our own borders, and home free.
Was that –
A were-cat came out of nowhere, her sleek black fur blending almost perfectly with the marshy grasslands, and tackled me easily. She sent me flying, and Sam had to let go, his body rolling to a distance away from us. I tried to watch him out of the corner of my eye, to see if he had injured himself further, but the she-cat attacked me again, jaws gaping and claws ready. She was half my size but double my speed, effectively trapping me in so that I couldn't keep running – not that I would leave my brother behind anyway.
I growled, and struck at her, catching her along her spine and flank. She yowled, spit dripping from her parted jaws as she clawed back, catching me across the face. My left field of vision – incidentally, the one that was watching Sam – was lost in a sea of my own blood.
I don't know how long we fought for, but we were both raw and bleeding when I finally made out my brother's voice; "Dean…"
I froze, as did the female, and looked his way. The others had caught up. They were in a reverse V around us, circling me and my brother in, and one of them – a small, honey-yellow male – had Sam's torso a dangerous distance away from his mouth. One movement would cut right through him. I growled; ears back and hackles raised – a mix of defiance, aggression and anxiety – and stepped forward, but stopped when the leader hissed at me, claws unsheathed and digging into the marshes.
He was a beautiful creature. His coat was blue-black and well-kept, covering smooth, powerful muscle and a lithe form. His eyes shone the brightest blue I had ever seen, and for a werewolf that would mean the pup was blind, but the were-cat followed my every movement precisely, from the twitch of my ears to the shift of my legs. The intensity was frightening, somewhat, and despite the fact that I was an Alpha in my own right, a little part of me shifted and deferred to this powerful, dominant creature.
I shook the feeling away before it could take hold.
The head cat hissed at me again, upper lip wrinkling to reveal a huge set of canines, curved and serrated on the back-edge, and jerked its head back the way we had come. I dipped my head in understanding, tail drooping, for the golden were-cat still had not released my brother, and my freedom was not worth his death. When I crept forward the he-cat pulled away and allowed Sam to climb onto my back again, his reddish-yellow eyes fixed intently upon my brother's hidden leg for a moment before he fell into step behind the sleek, black Alpha. The she-cat that had attacked me flanked my other side, and I carried my brother in the middle of the feline triangle, back into the country we had so desperately been trying to escape.
Were-cats and werewolves have long been enemies, like regular cats and dogs. Long ago, the human population died of a mysterious illness that no one has solved yet, and the disease triggered a long-dormant gene that forced people either as wolves, cats, or the rarer eagles that are rumored to be extinct. From all boundaries such as this sprouted hatred and fear, and we separated and hunt each other. Sam and I were in deep shit and we both knew it.
One main difference (aside from the obvious) between werewolves and were-cats is our cultures. Werewolves wouldn't think twice about tackling a playmate or a family member in jest, or any form of physical contact, but were-cats are so formal. They don't touch each other unless they are mated or fighting, and everything they do is surrounded by formality and ceremony. Compared to them, werewolves are savages.
We can change at will. That's another thing I should mention. Walking into the were-cat settlement, I was struck by how…feline they all were. I'm sure they would have thought the same sort of thing around us, but it's true…they are so graceful and fluid in everything they do and it's weird to watch. We don't bother with clothes, but they do; white sheets they wrap around themselves in the same way as Ancient Greeks used to, in human times.
They all stared at Sam and me, noses wrinkled in disgust at our appearances – splattered in mud and blood and my brother naked as the day he was born. I'm sure we looked quite a sight. I growled at one as he spat on the ground, earning a tensing from the cats on my right side, but paid them no mind. Let them fear me – they have a right to.
We were escorted to a set of tents built up on the high ground, where it was slightly more stable and I didn't slip at every turn. Sam whined in pain at every step and I rumbled my apology at him, tail hanging low at the shame of not being able to take care of him. He slid a hand through the fur at my shoulder, as good as a shoulder nudge between our wolf forms, and I figured I was forgiven.
When we approached the largest tent the golden beta shifted into his human form. He was a short man with slicked-back golden hair, hazel-brown eyes and a sarcastic smile. The rest of the group averted their eyes to afford him modesty, but werewolves have no real concept of that, and I stared right on through him.
"Change into your human form, wolf," he snapped at me, and the she-cat that had attacked me growled in affirmation. I dipped my shoulder, letting Sam slide onto his good leg, before I changed back into my human form as well. I didn't miss the appreciative glance the were-cat sent our way, followed by a low whistle. "Big boys, aren't ya?" he said, leering at Sam.
The Alpha cat hissed at him, but it was I who spoke; "You gonna stand there all day or kill us?" I knew, despite their claims at being 'civilized', that were-cats had an affinity for taking the wolf heads of their enemies and hanging them outside their borders. I had no doubt this would be our fate now.
"Dean," Sam growled at me, his eyes flashing between the gathered cats. Knowing him, being our chief tactician in the pack, he'd be trying to sort out a way of escape for us.
"Neither," the golden cat replied, smirking slightly as he folded his arms over his chest, resting his weight on one leg. "I'm going to heal this one," he pointed to Sam, "and you are going to sit tight and wait until we decide what to do with you."
I shifted, uneasy. I had assumed the sleek, black-coated cat to be the Alpha, but it seemed like this golden cat was calling the shots. The lines of power weren't as clearly defined, here, and it made me uneasy.
"Why would you heal him?" I asked, wary.
"'Cause he's purdy," the golden cat replied, leering once again at my brother, and I growled, shifting more into an attack stance. I would not sit back and take such a tone towards my brother, my flesh and blood, and this golden cat needed to be put into his place. The cat raised his hands in mock surrender –"Relax, wolf; it's my job."
"I'll be fine, Dean," Sam said, placing a hand on my shoulder and pulling me back slightly. I relaxed, because Sam is a fantastically calming influence on me, and if this golden cat really was going to heal him and make him alright, then it would only be a good thing in my books. He drew me back, rumbling the next words in my ear; "As soon as I'm free, I'll get a message out to Azazel and he'll bring back-up."
The golden cat came forward, providing a prop for Sam as my brother hobbled to the nearest tent, and I watched him go, desperate to follow but obviously I hadn't been invited to, so I held my ground. The night was pleasantly cool, raising goose bumps on my skin and chasing away the bugs for the night, so I wouldn't have to worry about mosquitoes or other parasites, which was a pleasant reprieve.
My attention was grabbed when the cat I assumed was the Alpha shifted his form, along with the female that had attacked me. She took form of a beautiful, slim redheaded woman with ice-blue eyes. Her torso was torn from my attack and I swallowed back the remorse I felt, remembering that this was meant to be my enemy…but I had never felt the inbred hatred for were-cats that my kinsmen had. I wanted to mend the divide, not encourage it.
That's why my pack had been here. We had been visiting a neighboring were-cat colony and we'd had to travel through this colony's territory. Sam and I had been separated and though we were both good fighters, tacticians and strong pack members, we were shit navigators. Lost and alone, we were no match for their hunting parties.
"I'm sorry," I told the redheaded female, voice heavy with sincerity and almost took a step back when she whirled on me, hair flying and eyes dark and cold.
"You don't talk to me, dog!" she hissed, fingers curling into talons as she advanced on me, teeth bared.
The Alpha spoke then; "Anna! Stand down!" Immediately the she-cat deferred, looking over at her Alpha, and I followed her gaze. The Alpha cat was…beautiful. That's the only word to describe him – with jet black hair and warm, bright blue eyes and miles of pale skin, the man was gorgeous. He was a little shorter than me and less built, but what little muscle he had vibrated with energy and power. Yes, this was definitely the Alpha.
The female stepped back, hissing once before she followed the golden cat and Sam into the tent, presumably to get healed as well. I followed her progress until she disappeared, and then focused my gaze on the Alpha. "I am sorry," I repeated, hoping to get a better reception.
The man smirked slightly at me, looking me up and down with a predatory gaze and I felt myself blushing. I crossed my arms over my chest, trying to hide myself, but there was no hiding the fact that the both of us were naked and I couldn't lie with my scent…Pheromones. I was pouring them out… 'Pawing the ground for him', as young members of my pack would say – werewolf slang. My blush darkened and I cleared my throat, shifting my gaze away and hoping against hope that werewolf pheromones and were-cat pheromones didn't smell the same. The smirk on the Alpha's face told me otherwise.
"So…" The man raised an eyebrow, looking me up and down again, not giving a care for his own nudity. Cold bastard. "You're the Alpha of your pack?"
I frowned. "How did you know that?" Sam hadn't called me by my title once around the were-cats. Immediately I was on the defensive; if the were-cats knew of my status they could use me for ransom or, better yet, kill me and Sam to get to the pack. I couldn't allow that.
The man shrugged. "One of my cats is a…specialist. He's good at getting inside your mind." He pointed to his temple. "Any mental communication during phase, he can pick up."
I frowned again, uncomfortable with the idea of someone inside my head without my permission or knowledge. I shifted my weight, but I didn't have time to respond before the Alpha was talking again; "Leave us," he said, turning to the rest of the cats. "Now!"
A few of them hissed, ears flattening, the upper lip wrinkling, but they left with their tails down and their shoulders dipped. The man stepped forward again, and I was reminded, once more, that we were both naked and I was currently very turned-on, hormones-wise. He smelled like the marshes, but in a pleasant way – like fresh rain on grass and ocean spray; salt and water in equal measure. I inhaled before I could stop myself, and embarrassed myself as I shook on the exhale, fingers digging into my forearms so I didn't reach out and touch him.
"That wasn't very smart, Alpha – leaving the two of us alone," I commented, trying to distract myself, and ended up failing when the were-cat smirked back at me, brightening his eyes and fuck. This is not cool.
He shrugged. "I don't think you're going to be doing anything…untoward," he replied, smiling again as he fixed me with an appraising look. "My name is Castiel, and I would like you to tell me what you're doing in my lands now, Dean."
I forced a smirk to my face. "Oh you know; exploring."
The change was sudden and swift; without warning he grabbed my chin, tilting my head up so I was forced to bare my throat. I instinctively shied away, growling in warning, but the Alpha's hold was strong and unyielding, pulling me back.
"Now you listen to me, pup," Castiel snarled, and I caught just an edge of serration to his teeth as they brushed against my neck. I swallowed back my whimper just in time. "I have neither the time nor the inclination to deal with your tricks and smart-ass remarks. I was here before the trees you hide in were here, and my brothers are much older. Now, you will answer me honestly and quickly, and maybe I will let your brother and your miserable self go." He pushed, then, sending my stumbling before I caught my balance. "What were you doing on my lands?"
I rubbed at my throat, wincing at the scratch that Castiel's teeth had left behind. The Alpha snarled at me, and I cursed myself at the little submissive whimper that escaped my throat – fuck it, this is not how an Alpha reacts.
"Answer me, dog!"
"I'm sorry," I answered, desperate. "My pack was visiting a neighbor of yours, and we had to travel through your lands. My brother and I got separated and we panicked, and ran. I'm sorry; we're sorry. The trespass was unintentional."
Castiel paused, cocking his head to one side, looking me over once again. "Dean…is your last name Winchester?"
"Dean Winchester…you're of that pack up north, aren't you? The ones reaching out." Castiel snorted. "You're fighting a losing war."
"I'm just here because you brought me here – you can either heal my brother and let us go, or kill us both, or ransom us or whatever the hell you want, but I don't owe you anything, and I'm an Alpha in my own right, damn it, and -."
Castiel was smirking.
"What?" I growled.
"You talk high and mighty, Alpha," Castiel said, advancing on me with that feline grace of his breed. I just barely resisted the urge to back down; "You puff yourself up and make yourself threatening, and you act with such righteous indignation…but you can't lie to me." He was so close to me now, and I was awash in his scent – and he could probably smell mine, too. His eyes were darkening, near-black, his lips inches away from the exposed skin of my throat, which I only just realized I had bared for him, on instinct. "And your body…you body doesn't lie to me, either. You want me, Alpha. You want me to take you, and own you, and make you feel like you want to feel – submit to me, and accept me, and I'll make you feel so good…" I don't know how they got a reputation for being so cold, when Castiel was so warm in front of me, his body heat almost feverish, eyes burning and serrated teeth just scraping against my carotid artery, heavy with my racing pulse.
I shivered, and stepped away from him, hands defensively outward. "Never," I rasped, hating how even I could smell my own pheromones, and Castiel, the bastard, smirked.
"If you ever change your mind…Dean." Then, he jerked his head to one side, to where a smaller tent was, and I knew he was telling me to go in. It was right next to the tent my brother inhabited, so I went in quickly, whining at a frequency cats hadn't evolved to hear, to check if Sam was okay. I heard his bass rumble in response, and although Castiel cocked his head to one side, I knew we were safe with the meaning of the sound.
The tent was covered in the pelts of deer and furs of bears and…I shuddered with revulsion…wolves. My brethren and some of them I could fancy I recognized from other packs, with their blank, staring eyes and gaping maws. God…this could be me. This may still be me. It's a terrifying concept.
Castiel had followed me in; I felt him behind me and whirled around. "What are you doing?"
The Alpha grinned. "This is my tent, and you are my…guest." The force of his gaze sat heavy on my shoulders, and I went to my knees in front of him. I inhaled deeply, and found another scent hidden amongst the smells of death, fur, blood and rain. Deep and heady – a siren song.
I smirked. "You talk all high and mighty too, but you're just as prey to me, Alpha," I purred at him, smirking when his mouth twisted in anger and embarrassment. Oh yes, two could play at this game.
I crawled forward, all an animal for him – perhaps, if I could make him lose his guard, just once, I could strike him down and Sam and I could make good our escape. When the healer cures his leg and any other injuries he might have sustained, I'll take him out of here and we'll run and kill any were-cats we can on the way. They'll regret injuring my brother.
He crouched down in front of me, our faces level. He took my chin in his hand again, tilting my head up. His gaze was speculative. "This is a dangerous game you play, Alpha, and don't think I don't know the rules."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
We met, then, in a clash that was more a fight of dominance than an actual kiss. Castiel was quick to surge forward and pin me onto my back, teeth biting my lips bloody as he forced my jaws apart. I felt the Alpha cat mewl when his tongue came into contact with my own jagged-edged canines, biting down on his lower lip and lapping at his blood.
His hands were dirty and without shame, exploring places on my body that, honest-to-God, no one had touched in years. Mates of an Alpha were very…select. Only a few bloodlines were eligible and, from that, courting sometimes lasted into the years. Of course, Alphas were allowed to screw around a little bit, but I'd never actually made it to the courting stage. There had been one female, Cassie, that I had contemplated for a few months, but she…didn't work out. We wanted different things.
Castiel, though…was fire. Liquid fire; his hands burned and seared at my flesh, leaving marks behind that would be embedded into my skin and my fur for days – weeks – to come. I arched for him, welcoming the long-missed touch, and it was like my body knew exactly what it wanted, regardless of what my brain was saying, because when his hands found my thighs and spread them, my head shouted in protest, but my muscles relaxed and went willingly to his coaxing. My hands found themselves knotted in his hair, my lips parting easily when his kisses turned gentler. His scent was driving me crazy, sinking into my very pores, and the combined scent of ourselves was making my head spin. I thrust up against him, mewling for it like some goddamn virginal bitch in heat, and the bastard chuckled against me, his long fingers stroking around the base of my cock, teasing at my entrance just slightly before withdrawing.
"God damn it, Alpha," I gasped, almost purring when he stuck two fingers into my mouth, his eyes telling me to suck, and I did willingly, growling when his hand forced me back, palm against my throat, fingers almost choking me. The submission felt so good…I could easily lose myself in it.
"You know," Castiel said, voice light, belying the greedy darkness in his eyes; "Females are a lot harder to get. They attack the male – make them work for it. But you, Alpha…" He pulled his fingers away from me, examining them to see if they were slick enough. "You are something else."
I growled at him, words kind of beyond me at this point, and he chuckled. "Not to say you're by any means easy…I'm sure you have more than one trick waiting for me, or a plan or something, and this is all towards a greater end. That's the way Alphas think, isn't it? But your pheromones…" He purred slightly as he inhaled, leaning back over me so jaw scraped against mine, the gesture so wolf-like it startled me, and I was returning it before I could think. "God, I've never smelled anything like that. Even our most potent females do not have a call such as you, Alpha…"
There was no warning before he was breaching me, his slender fingers too much, too thick and fast for my liking. I clenched and hissed at him, clawing lightly at the dip of his spine, causing him to shiver above me. He purred against my neck, sheathed teeth nipping at my throat, and I kind of hated how eagerly I tilted my head back and spread my legs wider for him, letting him settle between them. One finger became two and my body – again, ignoring the will of my mind – opened graciously for them, my thighs gripping his sides where he held one of them up with his free hand, expression contorted in almost comical concentration.
"Oh, fuck," I growled, dangerously close to howling for Castiel as the Alpha's fingers crooked just right, brushing against something that set my world on fire. My back bowed, hands clawing for purchase and finding it on his shoulders, the other hand pulled his head down for a kiss, to stop myself making more embarrassing noises more than anything else.
He pulled his two fingers out, pulling away from the kiss just long enough to spit on his palm and slick his cock up, before he was back, silencing my whimper of submission when he first breached my body. His hands gripped my hips, sliding me back onto him as much as he was pushing forward. He was kind about it – conscientious, almost – stopping and starting whenever I thought it would become too much. I was shaking around him, sweat gathering on the hollows and dips of my body, and I almost came when he leaned down to lick the sweat from above my collarbone. His eyes were so dark, and he looked like he was going to eat me alive, and I whimpered again, and mewled when he growled – a heavy, bass sound that I felt where our bodies were connected – and surged forward, ramming in all the way.
I did howl for him, then, the sound muffled against his lips but still loud enough that I'm sure Sam heard it. I clutched at his hair, desperate for something to ground me, and he was making the most delicious little sounds – purrs and hisses and groans all mixed together – as he rode me, quickly building up a rhythm and fucking into me with single-minded purpose.
This isn't how wolves do it. When wolves, it's all rough passion, and the stereotypical 'doggie style', because sometimes we can't even be bothered to change back into humans before the must-have-you-NOW feeling takes over and we just have to fuck. Werewolves run on adrenaline – it's like the basic hormone in our system, and as a result we're all urgency and fight-or-flight-or-fuck, and it's hasty and messy and oftentimes over quickly.
Were-cats, evidently, are not like that.
Castiel was slow about it. Methodical. He carefully, and with surgical precision, mapped out every part of my body available to him and took me apart, piece by piece. He made sure I was coming apart at the seams, driven crazy by him before we were even half-way done. He made me writhe, and howl, and beg for him, with nothing but dirty words and harsh growls and his cock in my ass and his hands on my body. His teeth kept scraping over my throat – a teasing threat that he never carried out, but only added a whole new layer of danger and excitement to it – something that we werewolves feed on like mother's milk. He knew exactly what he was doing, and it was so effective.
I reached down to jerk myself off, dangerously close to that cliff-edge but just being kept off it, when Castiel tossed his head and bit down on my shoulder, teeth sinking through the skin and muscle easily. I cried out and tried to strike him, but he anticipated my move and held me down.
"No, Alpha," he growled, lips and chin red and bloody, and I found myself licking my lips, watching him. "You're going to come on my cock alone, and the knowledge that no one in your pack would dare own you like I do, and that you fucking love my cock up your ass and my teeth in your body, owning you and claiming you and making you mine."
And fuck, did I come at that. It's shameful, but I did. I, Dean Winchester, Alpha of my pack, came from the thought of an Alpha were-cat fucking me. I came from the knowledge that that bite mark would stay there and I'd have to explain, and pass it off as some war injury, when and if I ever got home. My world went white and through it all, Castiel's black-blue eyes were burning into me. He reared up, holding my legs apart, and the rougher he got the more I felt it, battering my body with relentless precision. My cock gave a feeble jerk at every drive into my prostate and it was too much – oversensitive, over stimulated, I clamped down on him and held him to me as he shook through his own orgasm, closing my eyes at the warmth he was giving my body.
"Cas…" I gasped out, unable to say even his full name, and whimpered once more when he pulled out of me. His fingers prodded gently at my entrance, circling and probing at me, his other hand holding me down with ease when I squirmed and tried to get away. "Alpha…"
"I think the victory is all the sweeter because of this," Castiel murmured to himself, and I had no idea what he meant when his now-sky-blue-again eyes flashed to and held my own. "But, if you were female, this would make a much more interesting story."
And then he smirked, a true victor's smirk, and I knew I was in way over my head.