Title: I Keep Holdng On
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel, past Dean x Lisa
Warning(s): PWP - rough sex (biting, scratching, pushing, shoving, pinning, hair pulling...), barebacking, rimming, possesive!Cas, bottom!Dean, pseudo-dirty talk...
Spoiler(s): Vaguely for 6.03
Prompt(s): sycophantastic, Dean/Castiel, pushing, pinning, biting, scratching, hair pulling, etc - sex gets downright combative when Castiel is pissed off
Word Count: 4,492
Rants: This started off as a c_f. This is what happens when I try and do fills for Ginnna. /sighs Also, except for one or two things, this has all of my favorite kinks. /nervous laugh
Summary: It's been a year.
Disclaimer: Do not own.
Dean barely has time to process what's going on before Castiel shoves him into the wall, hard, and pins him there. The angel has no qualms about using his rejuvenated angel powers to grab Dean's wrists and pin them above the hunter's head (which isn't fair because Dean is taller than Castiel, Goddammit) and then - nothing. He just watches Dean squirm, a dark look in his eyes.
"Are we going to fucking do this or not?" Dean asks before he can stop himself. He licks his lips in nervousness or anticipation, he isn't sure which.
"You are mine," Castiel growls. His fingers curl painfully tight around Dean's wrists and he presses himself up against the hunter tightly and catches his lips in a bruising kiss. His teeth nip at Dean's lower lip, causing sharp stabbing pain to shoot through Dean's body.
Dean gasps in startled pain. Castiel isn't ever this rough, he's sometimes shy but thorough and single-minded about these kinds of things but never rough. Yet, for reasons Dean can't even begin to explain, Castiel shoving his tongue in Dean's mouth and slipping his hand up under the faded Led Zeppelin tee to scratch at Dean's skin is – well. Suffice it to say, Dean can't even begin to remember the last time he was this turned on.
He moans when Castiel breaks the kiss, even though his mind and body are screaming for oxygen, and he's rewarded with another bruising slide of lips on lips before Castiel moves away from them to start nipping and sucking his way across Dean's jaw.
"You are mine," Castiel continues, nipping at Dean's earlobe. "You are not for Sam or for Ben or for Lisa. I pulled you out of Hell and pieced you back together. I healed your body and threaded in your bones and blood and soul. There was little of this body left before I made you whole again."
Castiel shoves his thigh between Dean's legs then, flush against Dean's swelling length, and the hunter doesn't know what is turning him on more at this point. "Cas," he whines - whines, because Dean has needed Castiel so badly for so long, and he doesn't even care that this isn't what he wanted because he knows now this is what he needs. He needs to feel like Castiel wants and needs him just as badly as Dean needs the angel. He needs to know that even though Castiel didn't bother to say goodbye a year ago that Castiel still cares enough about him to get possessive.
"Do you understand me, Dean?" Castiel asks, his teeth scraping at the corner of Dean's jaw lightly. He noses his way down Dean's throat and neck before pausing to sink his teeth into Dean's flesh and suck an angry red mark in its place. "Will you – " another bite, lighter " – admit – " and another bite, hard enough to make Dean cry out " – you belong – " he sucks at the mark, licking away the pain " - to me?"
"Fuck, Cas," Dean pants, "I'm yours. I'm yours so do something about it already!" He wants to reach out for Castiel, wants to run his fingers through that dark hair, wants to cradle that face in his hands and kiss him senseless. Castiel's grip tightens on his wrists though, as if he could read Dean's mind, but at least he brushes their lips together in another desperate kiss. "God, Cas," Dean whines, "I'm yours."
"Mine," Castiel agrees. He rocks his hips against Dean, pressing his thigh tighter against Dean's own erection, and Dean can't help but moan when he feels Castiel's press back against him. "Always," he continues and his voice quivers for a moment. He stops petting Dean's stomach to curl his fingers around the mark on Dean's bicep. His mark.
"Cas – " Dean starts, but whatever sympathies he was going to offer are cut off. Castiel digs his fingernails into the mark, then down across Dean's arm leaving a trail of angry red welts. Dean can't stop the startled sound from escaping his lips.
"Clothes," Castiel says, "Take them off. Now." He lets go off Dean's wrists to start tugging desperately at his own clothes. He shoves his trench coat and suit coat off quickly, letting them pool on the floor behind him, before attacking the tie.
"Leave it," Dean says, reaching forward to still Castiel's hand before the angel can jerk the thing undone. "Please." It's stupid, but Dean loves that tie, and he can't help but think Castiel already looks crazy enough, eyes dark and furious, hair mussed up, lips swollen from kissing. "Leave it," he says again.
"You don't get to order me around anymore, Dean," Castiel says darkly, but he drops his hand from the tie to reach for Dean's shirt. He tugs it up and off in a sharp jerk, practically manhandling Dean's arms through the sleeves, before tossing it aside. Dean's barely free of the thing before Castiel attaches his lips to Dean's collarbone, biting and sucking another line of red marks into the skin.
Dean doesn't think he's had this many hickeys since he was fifteen and necked with a girl for the first time. Even then, they didn't hurt so much to get. Not that Dean is complaining. He is definitely not complaining.
Dean reaches for Castiel's face, thumbs brushing over cheeks before his fingers card through soft and wild hair, but Castiel quickly snags Dean's wrist and tugs them away. For a moment Dean's worried Castiel is going to pin them again, but he doesn't. Instead, Castiel tugs them to his shirt, and tries to fumble for the buttons around Dean's wrist. Dean's not stupid, he can take a hint. It's hard to pop all of the buttons when Castiel's teeth are firmly attached to Dean's shoulder, but hey, Dean can improvise.
It's easy enough to shove the white fabric from Castiel's shoulders once he manages the buttons, though, and then Dean takes the chance to tug at the undershirt desperately. Castiel stops marking Dean long enough to let the shirt be pulled over his head, but his lips seek out Dean's nipples as soon as the cloth is discarded. Dean gasps and whines, digging his nails into Castiel's shoulder blades while the angel nips and sucks.
Castiel bites harder when Dean's nails dig in, and he rolls his shoulder shoulders to dislodge Dean's fingers. Dean doesn't let go though, squeezes his fingers until he's sure he should have broken skin, but his fingers have gone numb from the pressure and Castiel doesn't bleed much anyways. The angel squirms, fumbling behind himself to free himself from Dean's clutch, and when he does manage to grab a wrist, he shoves it between their bodies.
He's rocking against Dean, desperately, with surprising urgency. Dean's grinding back against him with the same fervor and intent and it's amazing. The tension and friction is short-circuiting Dean's brain and he doesn't care if they stay here and do this until they both come because undoing buttons and belts means stopping and Dean really doesn't want to.
"Dean," Castiel growls, nipping his way back up Dean's chest and throat to suck at an earlobe. "Dean."
"Bed?" Dean suggests. He groans loudly when Castiel's tongue flicks out to curl behind the shell of his ear. "We can – " Castiel licks at Dean's jaw, tongue warm and wet and distracting " – ugh – " before he makes his way back to Dean's mouth and shoves his tongue back into Dean. "- mmph!" His fingers struggle to undo Castiel's belt, hoping he can get his intent across.
"Want you," Castiel moans. He curls his fingers into Dean's hips and buries his face in the crook between Dean's neck and shoulder, tongue flicking out to catch a bead of sweet. He pushes Dean's hips back flat against the wall to still his rocking and Castiel seems to be fighting against himself for the same reason. His cock is hot and hard against Dean's thigh, even through the layers. "It has been too long."
"Maybe you shouldn't have left then," Dean says bitterly. Castiel shoves against Dean hard in retaliation, pressing against him from ankle to shoulder and shoving the air out of Dean's lungs, driving it out of his body until all he can think and feel and breathe is Castiel. "Fuck," he gasps. "Cas!"
"I had no choice," Castiel snarls, his teeth nipping at Dean's skin. "I had no choice and you didn't leave me with one when I returned."
Dean freezes, tenses up against the body pressing and covering his own. His fingers stop scratching and his hips stop jerking, and that seems to be what it takes for Castiel to stop rutting against him desperately as well. "You came back?"
"I always come back, Dean," Castiel says, exasperated. "For you, I have always - will always – come back. You're mine and I will not lose you again."
"I – " Dean starts, voice trembling even as his fingers skim up Castiel's side and back, until his arms are wrapping around the angel tightly. He doesn't know what to say – where to start apologizing and pleading because how could he have been so stupid? "I think you should fuck me now," he says eventually, fingers skimming down Castiel's spine, counting the bumps, before dipping beneath the hem of his slacks. "I really think you should do that."
Castiel huffs a breath of laughter against Dean's skin and the moment is gone. When he pulls back from Dean it's to clutch at Dean's arm tightly, painfully, and he practically shoves Dean across the room onto the bed. The hunter stumbles and manages to catch himself, barely, but Castiel clambers onto the bed behind him and drags Dean back until his ass is pressed against Castiel's groin.
Dean can't help it, he moans. He arches back against Castiel easily, pressing and grinding himself against the angel's erection and he braces himself on one forearm so he can palm at his own hard length. Castiel lets go of Dean's hips to bat the hunter's hand away, but he doesn't give Dean room to complain when he starts to fumble with Dean's belt. He's curled over Dean, stretched over his back, and his breath is hot and wet against Dean's skin, lips barely brushing and teeth scraping on occasion.
They both hiss sharply when Castiel manages to defeat the belt and pop the button on Dean's jeans. The zipper is jerked down, roughly, and Dean sucks in a sharp breath because the next moment Castiel's hand is curling around Dean's cock in a tight grip, twisting and tugging. "Cas," he groans, bucking back, and Castiel's hips jerk forward in response, grinding himself against Dean's jean clad ass. "Come on!"
"I thought," Castiel starts, sinking his teeth into Dean's shoulder, eliciting a yelp, "That we already established you do not get to boss me around anymore?" He laves his tongue across the bite, kissing it gently before nuzzling his nose against it. "You would do well to remember that."
"Fuck you too, Cas," Dean grunts in response.
Castiel either takes pity on him, or was already in agreement with Dean in the first place – Dean doesn't know, doesn't care – but he pulls away from Dean all the same. He hooks his fingers in the belt loops of Dean's jeans before tugging down in a sharp jerk, and Dean makes a strangled sound in response. He wiggles out of his jeans and boxers while Castiel makes a strangled growl, kicking off his boots and socks as he does so.
Castiel sits back on his heels then, running a hand down Dean's spine, fingers scratching at the skin lightly. If Dean cranes his neck, he can just see Castiel brushing his tie aside to trail a hand down his own chest before the angel palms himself through his slacks, moaning loudly. His fingers have trailed down the cleft of Dean's ass, seeking out Dean's hole and pressing against it. Not in, just against, and the action causes Dean to buck back and curse loudly.
Castiel laughs, a low and dark sound, before leaning forward to press a kiss against the small of Dean's back, his tongue flicking out to catch the pooling sweat. "Lube?" He asks, his voice husky and his breath hot against Dean's skin. "Unless you prefer it this way." He crooks his finger and presses inside of Dean to the first knuckle and Dean can't stop the choked sound from escaping his lips.
"Jesus Christ, Cas," Dean pants, dropping forward to rest his forehead on his forearms. "It's in my bag, in the side pocket." Like always, he wants to say, but doesn't. He can feel Castiel move away as he crawls off of the bed, leaving Dean trembling from the cold and his sudden exposure. He feels open, vulnerable, and it's surprisingly difficult to bite back a pathetic whine. "Cas..."
"Shut up," Castiel says, though he sounds amused. He strips himself easily, kicking off his shoes and socks and leaving his slacks and boxers to lay where they fall. He crawls back on the bed, pressing a kiss to Dean's flank as he does so. Dean's startled when he feels the chill fabric of Castiel's tie brush against the back of his thigh, but he doesn't have time to complain when Castiel nips at him again.
Castiel sits back on his heels again, before slipping one hand to Dean's hip and the other under his stomach and up his chest until he's guided Dean to sit back up, his back pressed against Castiel's chest. It's then Castiel tugs the tie over his head and Dean offers his wrists wordlessly. Castiel catches both of them and presses a gentle kiss to each palm before slipping the loop around Dean's wrists and tightening the knot.
"You're a kinky bastard, Cas," Dean grins, twisting as much as he can to brush his lips against Castiel's in a kiss. Castiel lets him for a minute, parting his lips and letting Dean trace their tongues together sweetly, reverently. He brings his fingers up to stroke against Castiel's cheek fondly before he manages to curl them in Castiel's dark strands.
The angel hums contentedly, trailing his hands down Dean's front, nails catching and scraping nipples before tracing ribs. He thumbs Dean's hips, spreading his palms wide across the smooth skin, before one hand continues to stroke down Dean's thigh and the other curls around Dean's cock in loose fist, stroking teasingly. He continues until Dean is whining pathetically into the kiss, torn between rocking back against Castiel's hard length and thrusting forward into a fist that isn't offering enough friction.
"Cas..." Dean groans into the kiss, a pathetic sound escaping from his lips. He's rewarded with Castiel bringing his hands up back Dean's sides, nails scratching as he moves. He brings them up to disentangle Dean's fingers from his hair before he settles his palms on Dean's shoulders and he shoves the hunter back onto the bed. Dean struggles to catch himself again, but he'd forgotten his wrists were bound, and he lets out a string of curses when he catches himself on his elbows, pain jarring through his arms. "You fucker!"
Castiel's hand catches on the back of Dean's neck, forcing his head down, and Dean's string of complaints are cut off. Not because of the violence, but because that's when Castiel wraps his hand around Dean's cock and starts teasing again. "If you are adverse to my methods, we can always stop," Castiel says, bending over Dean to breathe in his ear.
"Fuck that," Dean huffs, squirming under Castiel and arching his back more fully against the angel. "We haven't even fucking started." He thrusts back, rubbing himself against Castiel's erection and the angel groans pathetically, his hips jerking up against Dean. Precum smears against the back of Dean's thigh, but he can't be bothered to be disgusted.
For a moment, Castiel seems content to just rut up against Dean helplessly, his breath a shuddering wreck in Dean's ear. Eventually, he manages to push himself free of Dean's back, trailing kisses down the spine as he goes. There's no warning or hesitation before he spreads Dean open, his tongue flicking out to tease against Dean's hole. Dean curses and bucks, and Castiel simply spreads Dean's thighs wider before shoving his hips down against the mattress.
"Stay," Castiel orders, scratching his nails down the back of Dean's thighs, "and be still." He leaves Dean with no options but to groan pathetically before he nuzzles his way back up Dean's thigh, pausing to kiss and nip the skin as he sees fit. He still fails to warn before he spreads Dean and licks at his hole again, but Dean's at least ready for it this time. It doesn't last long, because if Castiel isn't being punishing, he's being a tease, but Dean still mourns the loss of contact when Castiel pulls away from him to reach for the lube.
The worst part is the hand pinning Dean's lower back, forcing him to keep to the bed. He can't move, can't seek friction for his aching, leaking cock. Castiel, the traitorous bastard, knows this. He's probably doing it on purpose but Dean's afraid to complain.
Castiel's fingers are cold when they seek entrance, and Dean forces himself to relax into the touch, letting Castiel prep him one digit at a time. The angel's free hand alternates between petting and scratching at random, across his back and side, over the curve of his ass and down his thigh and Castiel's lips and teeth are following the same chaotic pattern. The only thing that's constant is the – more than likely subconscious – rubbing of Castiel's hard length against Dean's thigh, because even the fingers buried inside him are crooking and twisting at random. Dean's almost positive Castiel is avoiding his prostate on purpose.
When Dean starts to plead, a litany of "please, oh God, Cas, just do it, please, fuck me, want you, need you, please, oh please," that trails into nothing but incoherent choked sobs, and only when he's begging, does Castiel sit back and pull back, leaving Dean open and empty. Strong hands guide him back to his knees, stroking his sides softly as soft reassurances are whispered into his shoulder blades.
Dean's not stupid. Castiel isn't being nice to be nice, he's being nice because if he keeps up the rough routine they're both going to come now before the fun has even started. Not that Dean's complaining, he's missed the gentle touch of Castiel's hand on his naked skin more than he's willing to admit.
Castiel lines himself up and thrusts into Dean with a hard grunt, the hands that had been petting Dean's sides curled around Dean's hips and dragging him back to meet the angel's thrust until he's fully seated, buried inside of the hunter and doubled over his back, panting heavily into his neck. "Dean," he groans, teeth nipping at Dean's shoulder before he sucks the flesh into his mouth to soften his moan. "Dean!"
"Cas," Dean groans simply in reply. His knees are slipping against the bedspread as he struggles to stay up under Castiel's weight and it's been so long since he's done this, since they've done this he doesn't know how he's supposed to feel. He feels so stretched open, ripped apart from his base to his soul, but he doesn't care because this is Castiel and Castiel would never hurt him. He trusts Castiel to take care of him.
It takes a moment for Castiel's fingers to stop slipping on Dean's sweat slicked hips, for one hand to find purchase. The other he brings up to brace his weight on a forearm, arm curling under Dean's chest until his closed fist bumps against Dean's chin. Dean ducks his head to kiss Castiel's knuckles, and he can feel Castiel chuckle against his shoulder.
The angel is rocking against Dean with sharp, aborted thrusts, unable to keep still as he waits for Dean's okay. It's not bad, doesn't hurt, and Dean huffs a breath of laughter into his own arms before forcing his weight up on his elbows so he can fumble blindly over his shoulder, his fingers seeking out Castiel's hair and tugging roughly. He manages to startle Castiel, and the angel bucks against Dean, hard, and they both groan loudly.
"It's okay, Cas," Dean breathes, bowing his back up against Castiel's chest before pressing down towards the angel's cock. "You can go, just – fuck – hurry up. Not gonna last like this." His voice tapers off to a whine, and Castiel presses a soft kiss of apology into his shoulder.
Castiel makes a pathetic sound in response when he obeys. Tangled together like they are, he can't move much or quickly, but if Castiel isn't complaining, Dean isn't going to. As it is, Castiel's thrusts are deep, angling for the spot he knows will melt Dean from the inside out, and he worries Dean's flesh between his teeth to silence his needy moans.
Dean just tightens his fingers in Castiel's hair, tugging and twisting the sweaty strands and he doesn't bother to silence the moans and whimpers spilling from his throat. He meets Castiel's thrusts as best he can and is torn between arching into Castiel's teeth or away from them. It's a delicious tossup between good pain and bad pain and Dean is practically delirious from need.
His cock is aching, bouncing against his stomach and smearing precum with each of Castiel's hard shoves but Dean can't reach it. Even if he managed to uncurl his fingers from Castiel's hair, there's no way he can reach between his own legs to stroke himself to completion, not with the way Castiel is nearly pinning him to the bed. "Cas," he whines, panting heavily, but he can't think of the words to explain what he wants, what he needs, and he settles for just tugging at Castiel's hair until the angel grunts in pain.
Castiel's hand slips from Dean's hips then and Dean nearly buckles under the next hard shove of Castiel's hips. The angel's hand fumbles for Dean's cock, slipping off sweat slicked skin until his fingers manage to curl around Dean's shaft, fingers slipping and tugging over the slickened skin. Dean moans loudly, obscenely, and bucks hard back against Castiel, his fingers curling impossibly tight into Castiel's hair, nails scraping against his scalp.
"Cas," Dean whines again, long and low, "Cas, Cas, Cas…" It's a struggle to stay on his knees under the brutal motions of Castiel's hips, especially when he's torn between bucking back to meet them or bucking forward into Castiel's hand. "CasCasCas," a single syllable, not even a word anymore, being shoved and wrenched and torn out of Dean's mouth without his consent, melding and mixing with the wet/dry sound of skin on skin and moans and grunts, both Castiel's and his own.
Dean's nearly blindsided by his own orgasm, a strangled cry spilling from his lips as he shoves back against Castiel, hard, thick white ropes of come spilling across Castiel's fingers and the bedspread. He clenches around Castiel tightly, letting his knees give out under him and they slam down to the bed, the air punched out of Dean's lungs as he struggles for breath. Castiel's thrusts have slowed, not so much as bucking as grinding, forcing himself as far into Dean as can go before he spills his own release, filling Dean with his seed and silencing his own screams by biting down on Dean's neck.
For a while, they stay like that; Castiel pinning Dean to the bed, still buried inside of him and Dean's fingers still tangled in his hair. He presses gentle kisses to the skin of Dean's shoulder that he can reach, his tongue laving at teeth marks to help soothe the burn. Eventually, when they've both started to catch their frantic breaths, he frees his arms from where he's pinned underneath Dean and sits back on his heels, and they both hiss when he pulls free of Dean completely. His hands stroke over Dean's shoulders, back and sides, down the curve of his ass and his thighs, fingers brushing over the marks he made and he makes a pleased sound.
"Dean," Castiel says softly, leaning forward to brush his lips against Dean's ear, kissing the soft skin just below. "Roll over." He shifts his weight to give Dean space to roll over, but he settles back down on Dean's waist as soon as he's still. He leans forward to catch Dean's lips in a lazy kiss, and his fingers twitch and inch up Dean's arms until they can find the tie and tug Dean's wrist free from the knot.
Dean's hand immediately slip to Castiel's face, cupping his cheeks in his warm palms and he doesn't even care that they're both disgusting and smearing come everywhere. He licks his way into Castiel's mouth slowly, and he can't fight a grin from spreading when Castiel sighs against his lips. "I'm sorry, Cas," he mumbles into the angel's lips. "For everything."
Castiel doesn't reply, opting to nuzzle his nose against Dean's instead before capturing his lips in another tender kiss, lazy slick slide of lips on lips and tongue against tongue. Dean loses track of time as one kiss melts into another, as Castiel melts into Dean and they roll onto their sides, legs and arms tangling just as closely as their tongues. Slowly, the kisses taper off into a simple press of lips against lips until even that dies down until they're simply breathing in each other's space, lips barely brushing together.
"I love you," Castiel murmurs, and Dean feels it more than he hears it. The angel's eyelashes flutter against Dean's cheeks as his eyes start to slip shut, and angel or not, Dean knows that this is where Castiel wants to be most, curled up and sleeping together. It's what Dean wants most, too.
"I know," Dean replies eventually, and he stops petting the space between Castiel's shoulder blades to card his fingers through messy hair, gently this time, fingers massaging the scalp as they slide over the skin. "I love you, too."
Castiel hums in pleasure, shifting and snuggling until he's impossibly close, and Dean can feel his eyelids slip shut, butterfly kisses brushing against Dean's cheek, and they don't open again. "I know," he says, his voice a low rumble. He huffs out a breath of contentment when Dean continues to pet his hair, and Dean can feel a chuckle building in the back of his throat, even through the quivering and the wet, burning feeling at the back of his eyes.
It's good, Dean thinks, letting his own eyes slip shut and sleep wash over him, It's good to finally be home.