Chapter Text
"May I tie you up, Dean?" Cas said, without taking his eyes from the television.
Sam and Dean choked on swallows of beer and Gabriel burst out laughing.
"Jesus Christ," Dean said, wiping his mouth. "Subtle you ain't."
"Aaaand I think that's our cue, little moose," Gabriel said, standing up. "We'll bow ourselves out, shall we?" He tugged on Sam's hand. Sam shook himself out of his horrorstruck paralysis and stumbled out the door without a word.
Castiel watched them go, then turned to Dean, blinking at him owlishly. "I found I enjoyed it when you bound my hands," he said.
"And you wanna know what it feels like from the other side? To do the tying?"
Cas nodded, his face unreadable.
Dean swallowed. "Yeah," he said, his voice slightly rough. "We can do that."
They had been spending a lazy afternoon watching reruns of the Golden Girls, and Dean resolutely did not want to know what connections were firing in Cas' strange angel brain to make the leap from Betty White to bondage.
Dean's mind drifted to the predatory look that occasionally flickered across Castiel's features, and the way his voice dropped even fucking lower when he took control. He shivered in anticipatory trepidation, and, yup, instantly hard.
"What did you like about having your hands tied?" he asked.
Cas tilted his head and bit his lip, considering. Dean shifted uncomfortably, pressing his palm into his crotch. Cas raised his eyebrow but didn't comment.
"I liked being in your control," he said finally. "Especially because you were angry. You could do anything you chose to me and I'd have to accept it... it was very arousing."
"And you want me under you like that?"
"Yes," Cas said. "Under my hands."
Dean groaned. He felt himself slipping instinctively into a more submissive posture, hands clasped lightly and head lowered.
"How do you want me?" he whispered. "Like you were?"
Cas stared at him, raking his eyes over his body, appraising. Dean felt a blush begin to creep up his neck.
"Get on your knees," he said finally. Dean scrambled to obey. He tugged questioningly at the hem of his t-shirt, and at Cas' nod he jerked it over his head, but Cas stopped him when he reached for the waistband of his boxers. “No,” he said. “Leave them on for now.”
Dean nodded, the color in his face intensifying. His erection was jerking visibly through the fabric, under a small growing stain of precome, and he couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with his hands. He felt somehow more exposed than if he were fully naked, and from the look on his face Castiel was quite aware of that.
“Is there anything you aren’t good at?” he said with a forced laugh.
Cas threaded his fingers in Dean’s hair and tugged, pulling his head back. He leaned in, letting his lips brush over Dean’s ear.
“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he whispered, and bit down once on Dean’s neck, quick and hard. Dean moaned, and Cas yanked on his hair. “Be quiet,” he snapped. “I’m only telling you once.” Dean bit his lip and nodded.
Cas sat back and stared at him. “So beautiful,” he said. “Put your hands behind your back.”
Dean obeyed and bowed his head, eyes closed and breathing erratic. Castiel fumbled through the piles of clothes strewn about the room and finally came up with a fistful of neckties.
“Keep your eyes open, Dean,” he said. “I want to see your face while I take you apart.” Dean couldn’t quite suppress a growl of desire, and was rewarded by a sharp slap to his ass. “Don’t want to gag you,” Cas murmured. “Much better things to do with your mouth.”
Dean had never really considered himself strongly submissive or dominant; he could take on either role as fit the circumstances, and thoroughly enjoyed both. But his angel in this mood was definitely hitting buttons Dean hadn’t even known he’d had. He focused on taking deep, calming breaths as Castiel wrapped the cool silk around his wrists, twisting and knotting with sure fingers.
He jerked in surprise when he felt strong arms encircle him, one around his waist and the other covering his mouth, and soft lips pressed against his spine. “Love you,” Cas whispered into his neck. “Love you, love you.” Dean’s head fell back, and he was eternally fucking grateful for the hand muffling his noises. He felt Cas smile against his skin. “See,” he whispered. “I am not without mercy.”
Dean nodded in frantic agreement, but he changed his mind very goddamn quickly when Castiel slid his other hand down into his boxers and around his cock, not moving, just squeezing gently. He arched and thrashed, desperately trying to throw off the hand over his mouth so he could beg good and proper and shameless.
“Remember,” Cas said, stroking his thumb over jawline, “I’ve told you to be quiet.” But Dean was too far gone to pay attention, and as soon as the hand slid away the words were tumbling out.
“Please,” he gasped. “Please, Cas, fuck, please, I --”
But instantly the hands and body were gone, and Dean felt actual hot tears spring to his eyes at the loss of contact. He bit down hard on his tongue, willing himself to stop the jumble of pleas and obscenities on his lips.
“You can’t even follow simple requests, Dean?” Cas whispered, cool and soft. “Are you trying to push me?” Dean pressed his lips together and shook his head mutely. “I should gag you,” Cas said matter-of-factly, reaching down to snag another tie. He took one end in each hand, stretching it flat, and rubbed it across Dean’s mouth. Dean opened his mouth obediently and Cas dragged the silk over his tongue, wrapping the ends behind his head and holding them there for a few long moments before dropping them, so the tie hung loosely from Dean’s lips.
Cas stood up and stripped, then pulled Dean to the edge of the bed, letting him take him into his mouth. He looked down and, fuck, he was pretty sure everything was backfiring, because he was watching Dean swallow his cock with silk trailing out of his mouth and down his chest and oh, God, he couldn’t handle it but he couldn’t make him stop.
Finally he wrenched himself off. “Good,” he said, breathing hard. “So good.”
He circled back around and knelt on the bed, shifting Dean back against him and yanking boxers down his thighs. “Going to fuck you now,” he said in Dean’s ear, pushing his head to the mattress.
Dean groaned softly but didn’t reply. Cas smiled.
“You can talk if you want to,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Dean growled. “Yes, fuck, please. Cas, yes.”
Cas shuddered. He groped behind him, found a pillow and threw it under Dean’s head. Licking his index finger, he pushed it into Dean’s body.
“I love you like this,” he said, brokenly. “I love you always but you’re mine like this.” He added more fingers, more pressure, twisting and stretching. “I wish you could see yourself. So needy, so pliant for me.”
Finally Cas pulled his fingers out. He caught Dean’s bound wrists in one hand and wrapped the other around his hip. Dean whined.
“No lube,” he whispered, pressing the head of his cock against Dean’s ass. “Can you take it?” He licked a bead of sweat dripping down his spine.
“Yes,” Dean hissed. “Yes, please, Cas, I can, I swear --”
“I love it when you beg,” Cas said. “Begging for me. Dean Winchester, on his knees and begging for my cock. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Dean gasped. “Please, Cas, give it to me. I can take it, I swear, I’ll take whatever you give me.”
“I know,” he said simply. He shoved Dean’s legs as far apart as he could, restricted by the boxers around his knees, and slowly, carefully, slid himself inside.
Dean whimpered and tried to push himself down. “I’m not a fucking doll, Cas,” he growled. “I said I can take it.”
Cas slapped his ass again, hard, twice. “You’ll take what I give you,” he corrected. “Or I won’t give you anything at all.”
“Sorry,” Dean gasped. “Yes, sorry, sorry. I’m yours, yours, give me what you want.”
Cas pushed in further, until he was fully inside, then stilled himself. “Beg me for it,” he whispered.
“Oh, God,” Dean choked, his face burning. “Please fuck me, Cas. Please, I’m begging you, I need it, I need you. Fuck, fucking, fuck me, please --”
Castiel finally let his self-control crumble. He pulled out and shoved himself back inside, and Dean let out a gratifying sob. With the last vestiges of coherent thought he wrapped his arms around Dean’s waist, making sure he wasn’t going to fuck him into a broken neck on the mattress, and then he let himself fall apart.
“To have you like this,” he said through clenched teeth. “To have you open and bound and spread out underneath me.”
“Cas, please, fuck, Cas, I can’t, I’m --” Dean was disintegrating, incoherent and obscene, and he was taking Castiel with him.
“Come, Dean,” he ground out. “Come for me.” And Dean was tumbling, falling, fucking skydiving over the edge immediately, coming in hard, painful, unbelievable spurts into the mattress. Cas shoved into him one last time and he followed with a cry, his arms gripping Dean’s waist.
They lay together, gasping. “Holy fucking shit,” Dean mumbled, his face still pressed into the pillow.
“Um,” Cas agreed, kissing Dean’s spine. His brain cleared slightly and he realized Dean’s position, tied up and bent over, and he blushed, inexplicably.
“Don’t know what got into you, angel, but I think I like it,” Dean said, slurring slightly.
Cas sat up hurriedly and freed Dean’s wrists.
“I’m sorry,” he said, suddenly shy. “Was that, uh. I’m. Did I hurt you?”
Dean flipped himself over, blinked up at him, then pulled Castiel down to his mouth.
“Cas,” he said languidly, “don’t ever change.”