Exclusive, a Destiel one-shot by missbip0lar.
Castiel arches his back and tugs against the restraints tethering his wrists to the headboard as the point of his angel sword circles his nipple. He is sweating, his wrists and arms are sore from their forced position, his impending orgasm is being denied by the custom-made leather ring encircling the base of his cock, but Castiel doesn't care about any of that. How could he when Dean is hovering above him, between his spread legs, just as naked as the angel beneath him, dragging the deadly blade over Castiel's body? He tugs again at the restraints, testing their hold. Castiel could break out of them - they both know it - but they both also know that he won't.
He feels the blade split his skin, feels a few droplets of blood seep out of the wound, sees the light from his own Grace shine through the cut, and shivers. Dean bends down, keeping his eyes trained on Castiel's, and his tongue darts out to lap up the blood. The look in his eyes is sadistic, familiar in both a terrifying and arousing way, and Castiel gasps as his erection twitches and releases a bead of pre-come onto his belly. Dean gets like this sometimes; ever since Castiel pulled him from The Pit, he sometimes feels the need to have someone beneath him, and a blade in his hand to cut and slice and draw blood.
And Castiel is more than willing to be his victim.
"You bleed so pretty for me, angel," Dean murmurs quietly against Castiel's chest, rewarding him by bringing his hips down to grind their lengths together. Castiel groans and grips at the leather restraints to keep himself from breaking them. He wants to touch Dean, hold him, feel Dean moving inside him. But it isn't time for that just yet.
Dean sits up, repositions himself and Castiel's own weapon in his hand, and dives in once more. He drags its tip across Castiel's throat, a small threat of what he could do to the bound angel, but won't. The blade travels down Castiel's body, over his Adam's apple as it bobs with his hard swallow, down his sternum, into the dip of his navel. Here, Castiel allows a whine to escape from his throat. That blade is close - so close - to his aching erection, spasming and leaking a scant few centimeters below his navel. Dean notices, of course - he always notices Castiel's reactions - and intentionally bypasses the angel's needy arousal to draw the weapon to the cut of his hipbone instead, pushing the tip of the blade against his skin just enough to draw a single bead of blood from him. Again, Dean leans down to lick it up. Over the years, Castiel has learned that this is one of Dean's ways of showing Castiel that his intention isn't to harm him, but to release some aggression and possibly (definitely) get them both off in the process.
Dean glides the blade down Castiel's inner thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. The blade stops and re-traces its path back up Castiel's thigh, to settle in the juncture where his leg meets his groin. Castiel's body is all but vibrating with adrenaline and arousal and anticipation. He knows what's coming next.
"Legs," Dean grunts, and Castiel immediately obeys, spreading his legs wider and pulling his knees to his chest, exposing to Dean the place he knows Dean wants. Castiel watches as green eyes survey every inch of pale skin - every inch of bound angel - spread out and willing and panting and oh-so-hard underneath him. Dean's pupils are blown wide, giving his eyes an almost demonic appearance. For this situation, for what they do sometimes, demonic eyes are ridiculously appropriate. But Castiel doesn't voice this, wouldn't dare admit aloud that the darkness in Dean turns him on almost as much as the lightness in him does.
"Dean," he breathes, a quiet plea to get on with it, to move to the next part of this mock torture so they can finally get to what they both really want.
Dean's eyes snap up to meet Castiel's, and he moves to continue. With one hand, he grips behind Castiel's knee, pushing it further in toward his chest. He spins the angel sword deftly in his free hand, and drags the tip - harder this time - along the underside of Castiel's thigh, leaving an angry red welt behind. Finally the blade finds its destination, and circles lightly, dangerously, over Castiel's puckered rim. Castiel is hyperventilating now, whether from fear or arousal he isn't quite sure. He knows Dean would never even dream of penetrating him with the sword - not the deadly end, at least - but the threat hangs in the air anyway. Castiel can see a light sheen of sweat on Dean's body, watches his breath catch as Castiel's hole flutters in invitation. Dean swallows hard, clearly trying to stay in control, and draws the blade lightly across Castiel's entrance, before slowly moving up his perineum, his sac, and finally up the hard line of his cock, teasing the leather cock-ring in the process.
Castiel is coming completely undone, moaning and trembling, the tip of his length dripping and leaving a puddle of clear sticky fluid on his abdomen.
"You're fucking gorgeous like this, Cas," Dean groans quietly. He sounds just as wrecked as Castiel feels. "Tell me what you want."
"Anything, Dean," Castiel answers at once, ever obedient to the man above him, who could cut him or kill him or penetrate him at any moment. "Anything you'll give me."
Dean flips the angel sword in his hand, so he's holding the blade, and leans over Castiel to nibble his ear and suckle his neck. Upon feeling the blunt hilt of his sword pressing against his entrance, Castiel gasps and feels a shiver run up his spine as he releases a shaky breath.
"This what you want, angel?" Dean is saying in his ear, his voice deep and husky with lust. He bites Castiel's ear again, the hilt of the sword breaching him and slipping immediately back out. Castiel all but whimpers in response, unable to contain the desire any longer. Dean chuckles, then continues, "Tell me, angel. Tell me you want me to fuck you with your own weapon."
"I... I want..." Castiel manages, distracted by the feeling of cold hard metal pressing into him. Dean pauses just long enough to twist the hilt inside him, Castiel arching and once again tugging at his binding in a half-hearted attempt to free himself.
Dean forcefully shoves the thick metal hilt inside Castiel as far as it will go. Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and cries out, his chest heaving and his head swimming.
"Please, Dean," he begs at last, his cock screaming for release and straining under the cock-ring.
So Dean cants the hilt of the sword inside his angel, so it presses against his prostate. He thrusts it, in-out-in-out, and Castiel finds himself rocking into it, moaning and cursing, and if his orgasm weren't cut off by a tight ring of leather at his base, Castiel would be coming, too.
"No more, Dean," he pants desperately. "Need you."
The sword is removed in one swift movement, and suddenly Dean's body is covering his, hips moving in small circles as Castiel's lips find Dean's. Dean releases Castiel's bonds, and his hands immediately grip Dean's shoulders, simply to get his hands on him at last. Dean's hand dives under the pillow beneath Castiel's head to produce a bottle of lubricant. He coats his hand with the stuff, still kissing Castiel with a hunger that the angel has come to relish, and brings it between their bodies. Strong fingers wrap around both of them, simultaneously slicking Dean and teasing Castiel's sensitive flesh. He wants nothing more than to come - to be permitted to come - but Castiel knows he won't until Dean allows it.
Dean pulls his hand away and sits back on his haunches, takes a good look at the wrecked angel on the bed before him, and smirks as he huffs out a breath. He flicks the cock-ring with his finger, "This is killing you, isn't it?" Castiel just glares at him in response, sure the look is ineffective.
Dean leans over him, his erection - shiny and wet with lubricant - in hand, and guides it toward Castiel's rim.
"Ready?" Dean whispers next to his ear, and Castiel nods.
Dean pushes forward slowly, and Castiel opens for him, always, stretching around the thickness and hardness and heat that is all Dean. His back arches and his legs wrap themselves instinctively around Dean, as his fingernails leave red streaks down muscular arms. He groans into Dean's ear, secretly thankful for the lack of preparation, because the burn is just so, so good.
After what seems like an unbearable eternity, Dean finally bottoms out. They remain completely still for a moment, trying to regain their composure, and then Dean's hips pull back and rock forward. Dean is gentle at first, as always, but soon picks up his pace until his thrusts are brutal, pounding into Castiel like it's the last time he ever will. Dean told him once that Castiel is the only person he can let loose like this with.
Dean is barreling into Castiel, his blunt fingernails leaving perfect crescent-shaped marks in his thigh. Dean's aim is perfect, striking that cluster of sensation inside Castiel with every single inward thrust, and then dragging across that same spot each time he pulls out. Castiel's voice is no longer in his control, and he is shouting curses and and prayers in Enochian. Castiel's entire world has shrunk down to simply himself and Dean, and how their bodies move as one.
He can hear Dean's breath catch in his throat as the angel's muscles clench around him, then his low groan when Castiel sucks at his pulse, marking him there for everyone to see. Dean's thrusts never falter, never slow, and still Castiel knows by the sounds he is making that it won't be long now before Dean's climax. Dean must know it, too, because he's suddenly pulling out and repositioning them, with Castiel straddling him as Dean lays back on the pillow. Together they guide Dean back inside, and Castiel's hips begin to move. He's grinding down onto Dean, showing him where he wants his hands. Dean takes the hint, one hand gripping Castiel's hip and the other brushing over and pinching a nipple. Castiel's own hands find their way to his cock, angry and red from denial of his release. Castiel strokes it, if for no other reason than to beg Dean to please, please remove the cock-ring so he can just come already.
Dean thrusts sharply upwards, and Castiel can't stop the scream that's ripped from his throat. He feels his cock jump and expel another bead or two pre-come. Castiel feels as if he is going mad; from the pleasure, from the torture of not being able to climax when he's ready, from Dean's hands on his hips pushing Castiel down. Dean sits up, wrapping his arm around Castiel's waist and attacking his neck with tongue and lips and teeth, marking him the same way Castiel marked him. The angel bares his neck to give Dean better access, carding his fingers through Dean's hair as he rakes his teeth across Castiel's Adam's apple.
"Oh, Dean," he moans, tugging harshly at the short tufts of hair between his fingers. "Please." He's begging now. "Please, Dean. I need..."
"I've got you, angel," Dean breathes in return, slipping his hand between them and unsnapping the leather ring.
Castiel's orgasm overtakes him almost instantly, pumping through him and igniting electric sparks throughout every nerve ending in his body. His muscles seize up, he tosses his head back, and color explodes behind his eyelids as he feels rope after rope of boiling release splatter between them. All the while, Dean's thrusts never stop, working Castiel through his climax and chasing down his own at the same time. Just as Castiel sighs in completion, Dean is groaning into his shoulder. His hips are momentarily still, before they twitch minutely, and then Dean buries himself further into the angel to pump himself dry. Dean's fingers are bruising Castiel's thighs as he pants the angel's name, "Cas, Cas, Cas," through his release.
When it's over, both of them are still for a while to bask in the afterglow. Castiel can feel Dean's heart pounding against his own chest, and he thinks he could easily just sit here for the remainder of the night, his arms around Dean, while the latter's hands rub his thighs and hips and ribs.
"So good, Cas," Dean praises quietly, peppering his neck and shoulders and jaw with kisses. "You did so good, angel. Mmm, and you're one sexy sonofabitch when you ride me," he continues in a murmur. "Heh, you'll never understand how much it turns me on to hear you beg me to let you come."
"Dean," Castiel says seriously, and he waits for Dean to look at him before he says, "I'd like to start doing this with you more often. Copulating, that is." Dean chuckles and shakes his head, exasperated, the way he does when Castiel doesn't understand some sort of reference. But Castiel presses on, "I know that this began as a way for you to take out some aggression when your memories from The Pit became too much. But it's been years since then, Dean, and still this continues once every couple of months. So," he reasons, suddenly embarrassed that he is actually expressing this to Dean, this thing he has been thinking about for some time now, "why should we refrain from fornicating other times? Like when we want to, and not just when you're feeling... bad? You must desire release more than every couple of months," he explains. Castiel knows he is rambling, but the words simply will not stop. "I want to make this exclusive," he finally blurts out.
"Alright then, exclusive," Dean repeats with a smile. "Congratulations on being my first boyfriend, Cas." Dean swats Castiel playfully on his backside and kisses him. "Oh, and Cas? Please don't use the words 'copulate' and 'fornicate' anymore, okay?"
Castiel tilts his head to the side. "What should I say instead?"
Dean just laughs and lifts Castiel easily from the bed, carrying him toward the tiny motel bathroom - and subsequently, the tiny motel shower.
"Don't worry, angel," he says. "We'll work on your bedroom vocabulary with time."
Notes: This didn't end up being what I had initially intended. At all. I had a vision of Cas tied to the bed, with a cock-ring, with Dean cutting him with the angel sword and whatnot. Don't exactly know how it turned into… This. Still not completely sure how I feel about it.
Reviews would help.