Title: White Chocolate

Author: Fenikkusu Ai

Rating: M

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Alastair/Dean

Words: 1,204

Genre: Angst/Romance

Summary: Alastair wanted Dean more than a child wanted an ice cream sundae heaping with whipped cream and cherries. However, he knew that his skin would taste better than sugar. Slave AU.

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural.


The evening had turned into a disappointing failure after all. That would remind Castiel in the future not to be too idealistic.

Castiel slammed the door of the apartment behind him with more force than what was deemed necessary. Instantly, he tossed his leather jacket aside, and the sofa had no choice but to grudgingly catch it. When he entered the kitchen, he walked right past the pile of dirty dishes in the sink with only one destination in his mind: bed. He needed to go to sleep and return to work as soon as possible.

A bit groggily, he undressed, threw back the shower curtain, and hurriedly prepared his shower. As soon as he got inside the tub, he rested his aching head against the cool tiles before reminding himself that that he needed to wash while there was still hot water to bathe in. He could lament later. He showered quickly, not even bothering to use conditioner. Castiel wondered if it was indeed possible to scrub away the filth of failure.

Hair still dripping, he hastily combed it before squeezing some toothpaste on his toothbrush and savagely ripped the bristles across his teeth. He didn't even bother getting redressed and instead stormed to his bed in his navy blue bathrobe. Fuck it. He already knew he wouldn't be sleeping much in his state of mind.

To add to his sour mood, the cell phone on his nightstand rang. Normally, he would have ignored it, but it very well could be from Bobby. Who else would be calling this late?

Castiel immediately answered it. "Hello?"

"Castiel? Oops, wrong number. Terribly sorry to have awoken you."

"Balthazar?"

His brother's laughter was as charming as ever. "Present."

"Actually, I haven't slept yet." the detective dared to reveal.

Balthazar chuckled more. "Burning the midnight oil, eh? Good. It's about time you stepped out and enjoyed life."

"It's not what you think. It's for a case."

There was a slight pause. "Oh. I see."

Castiel sighed. He knew that his line of work made Balthazar uncomfortable.

"So, what's going on?"

For once, Castiel didn't feel like sugar coating it. "A man was kidnapped. I believe that he was captured by a human trafficking ring. I consider it important."

"Of course. Saving a missing person is definitely more important than debauchery."

Somewhere in the background, Castiel thought he could detect music.

"But, you do promise that you will relax one day? After you save the world?"

Castiel pretended to mull it over "Maybe one day. When I'm not so busy."

"I suppose that's the curse of having a purpose," Balthazar drawled. "I have to go now."

"Bye."

Castiel flung the phone aside before he lowered his head onto the pillow. He wasn't offended by Balthazar's near panicked reaction as Castiel had known for years that his lifestyle as a police detective was not for him. Balthazar was too much of a free spirit. Too sensitive. But, that was all right.

Castiel supposed that God had a plan for everyone after all.


Dean flinched as Alastair rested an unwelcome hand on his shoulder as they walked down the hallway together. Dean looked down and noticed that his fingers were appropriately splayed out like a spider.

"Don't feel so bad. I know you held out as long as you could,"Alastair cooed as if trying to reassure him.

Dean was left swallowing a lump in his throat. He wondered if he would ever be free again. Of course, he already knew the answer to that question.

Dean nearly moaned as familiar door came into view. The bedroom. Alastair's bedroom. It seemed as if the older man was determined to continue where they left off. For a moment, Dean rubbed his still sore wrists. He wondered what other surprises awaited him from beyond that door...

Frozen, Dean watched the door to hell open and was forced to walk inside. The grip of the man who owned him and now demanded his surrender was as immovable as steel. Dean knew that he would never get used to being treated like a possession. He could also guess that Alastair didn't and wouldn't care.

"Hungry? I had some provisions in case you came around."

So. Dean's arrival had been expected. The night hadn't even begun, and he felt wearied. His emotions were getting slow to process. He already knew that he was a coward. If he had any balls left, he would still be hanging out in the basement. Dean supposed that he had just lost his nerve. Being immobile and helpless would do that. All he could do now was play pretend that he was still Alastair's special pet.

"Come on, Dean. Try to enjoy yourself at least. We can always spar another day."

Alastair walked ahead and bent down. Dean knew that was the opportunity to race out the door...if it had been left open that is.

"Champagne?" Lazily, Alastair offered Dean a full glass.

Dean gave Alastair a steely eyed glare and drank it fiercely in one gulp. He wanted to drink and drink until he was too drunk to function however impractical it was. Alastair chuckled, and suddenly Dean wanted to punch him.

"If you wanted some so badly, all you had to do was ask. Take anything you want. I insist."

"You went through all this trouble for me," Dean commented.

True to Alastair's word, there were trays of strawberries, cheese, and even some white chocolate. After not eating for hours and hours, all of the food looked tempting. Why shouldn't Dean enjoy himself? He was already fucked. Seconds later, he found himself nibbling a strawberry.

"So, tell me, honestly, have you ever considered modeling?" Alastair asked as Dean chewed.

Go to hell.

It was on Dean's lips to say, but the words remained in his head. He knew that it was better that way. In answer, Dean scowled at Alastair, and sensed that he was only amusing him further.

"Let me guess, nude?"

Alastair chuckled. "All sorts. Such a limited imagination, you have. You never give yourself any encouragement. Didn't your daddy give you any growing up?"

Dean was horrified by the revelation that he was serious. Alastair was challenging him. Taunting him. However, Dean wouldn't take the bait. He knew that the bastard was testing to see how far could push him. How long until he broke.

"Didn't you have any aspirations at all growing up?"

Dean kept silent.

"No need for a reply. I'll uncover them eventually."

He nearly choked on the strawberry and instead forced himself to swallow. Immediately, Dean picked up a piece of cheese and took his sweet time eating that as well. Then, he tried the chocolate. Alastair waited patiently on the bed until...

"I know what you're doing," he whispered.

"What?"

"You know what."

Stalling. Dean was stalling. Even now, Alastair was trying to get under his skin, and he was succeeding.

"Are you really that hungry?"

"Yes, actually," Dean snapped.

"Well, I'm bored."

A keen shiver up Dean's spine told him that he may very well be in danger here as Alastair approached him.

"You've always been a great source of entertainment, Dean. Help me out here. Entertain me."