Chapter Text
Dean hummed an old lullaby as he walked briskly along a narrow rocky precipice. The ancient sound carried hauntingly across the silent landscape like a siren's call. Grey limestone rose straight up out of the waves in a gradual U shape, edging nearly half of the island in a sheer drop of hundreds of feet, but the cloaked man walked along the edge fearlessly. Dean was staying on the island as a sort of vacation in a moldy old inn with only the innkeeper to keep him company.
Pamela was talkative enough and always up for a good flirt (wink wink nudge nudge and all that) but after a week Dean wanted some time to himself, really by himself, not cooped up in his room all day. So as soon as the sun set that evening he had told Pam he was going to take a walk and had set out along the cliffs until he was out of sight of the inn.
Dean was sure the sunset must have bathed the steep cliff he trod along in beautiful, hot, golden light. He tried to imagine it for a moment but finding he couldn't, he abandoned that train of thought. He much preferred traipsing along in the dark anyway.
The waves crashed relentlessly against the rock far below him as Dean picked up his pace to almost a trot, his favorite cloak billowing out around him. Aside from his black cloak with its high red-velvet lined collar, he was only wearing a thin Metallica shirt and dark wash jeans, neither of which did anything to keep out the cold wind that was trying to wreck his carefully slicked back hair.
Dean didn't know where he was going, but adrenaline was pumping through his veins because of his proximity to the sharp drop so he kept foraging further away from the warm lights of the inn that spoke of safety.
Rounding a sharper bend in the cliff, Dean was confronted by a rugged outcropping of rock. It was probably just sedimentary or something like that, but in the dim lighting it looked like obsidian and razor sharp. Dean's melody faltered and he shivered.
A sharp gust blew a piece of hair into his eyes. He swept it back and kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other onto the sandy ground.
Dean walked around the chunk of rock where he joined a faint path with two sets of fresh footprints. That was strange. The inn had no other occupants except for Dean and Pam, who Dean knew harbored an intense fear of heights and preferred to stay on the side of the island where the inn was and the sand was only a few feet away and not a few hundred of sheer drop. Why she built an inn on an island full of cliffs was a mystery to him.
The one set of footprints were clearly Dean's own boot tread, stretching out behind him. The second stretched out in front of him, and it wasn't a shoe print at all. It barely looked human.
Dean kept his eyes trained on the path even though he could see it perfectly anyway despite the dark. Further along the path there was a damp patch of sand, probably from the last rain. In the mud was a perfect footprint. Dean vaguely wondered why the person had chosen to go barefoot in a place with so many nettles and sharp grasses.
He crouched down. Upon closer inspection, the footprint wasn't as perfect as he first thought. The heel and arch were well defined, but the toes were… blurry was probably the best word because Dean didn't want to think too hard about the other option.
Webbed. And not like they were fused at birth either.
Dean straightened up and shook his head a little to clear it. Feeling slightly uneasy now, his spike of adrenaline faded into a quiet pulse of blood, he continued around the crop of rock which just happened to follow the trail of footprints. The set of bare footprints went along next to Dean's, as if they were strolling along the cliff together in a really creepy way.
Dean took several steps, practically hugging the rock face, before he noticed it. The bare footprints had disappeared.
His stomach dropped.
For a second Dean stared at where the footprints should be. His heart pounded in his chest. It wasn't needed to pump blood around his body, but he found the feeling of it beating comforting, and in times of great stress it would speed up as if he was still living and needed it for flight or fight. Right now he was considering flight. It's not undignified if no one's watching.
Scared as hell but just a little bit intrigued too, he retraced his steps until he found the last print. His eyes followed a patch of fallen pebbles up the rock face above the last footprint. There, embedded in the solid rock, was a jagged hole, large enough for a grown man to squeeze through. Dean steeled himself and stuck his head into the rock. It was dusty and gross but surprisingly warm compared to the cold wind on the cliff. All he could see was endless rock, all the way down like some sort of natural mine shaft.
Dean hesitated for a moment. What is he doing following some strange set of footprints into an unknown, claustrophobic space? He honestly didn't know but he could feel the thing that the footprints belonged to calling to him, almost like a melody pulling at his very bones, or a heady scent that begged attention.
He climbed into the tunnel, half aware of what he was doing.
The ceiling was low, so Dean had to crouch and shuffle along the narrow rock shaft. A piece of rock sticking out of the wall grazed his knee and Dean cursed. If the walls got any closer, he wouldn't be able to continue. For some reason the possibility that he might never find what was calling him filled him with despair and a low whimper escaped his throat. It echoed in the tight space until it was swallowed by the rock.
After what felt like hours, the shaft widened out into a proper tunnel and then into a cavern that he could stand up in without stooping. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, almost as tall as Dean, milky water spread across the cavern floor an inch thick and coated his boots in a sandy film (that looked way too much like another white substance that he'd much rather not think about in this context), and a steady dripping noise permeated the otherwise silent cavern. There were several different alcoves off the cavern, each as nondescript as the next.
Dean wrinkled his nose at the mess on his boots and tried to shake it off with no result. The climb down had felt like miles but he was still surprised to see sand and tiny bits of seashells stuck to the sole of his boot. With a muttered, "Gross," he looked around the cavern hoping to find some clue of what way to go next. He was begining to doubt the wisdom of coming down here on some wild goose chase but he'd gone too far to leave now.
That steady drip of water was the only indicator of direction in the sea of rock, so Dean set out toward it and the opposite end of the cavern, his boots making disgusting squelching noises in the sand. What kept him going was that there might be an exit out of the base of the cliff somewhere down here and he won't have to 'the worm' to get back up that shitty mine shaft.
Not paying attention, he knocked a stalactite with the side of his head. Dust showered down, momentarily blocking out his vision.
"Aw c'mon really?"
As he rubbed at his eyes, his neck prickled like someone was watching him. He wiped the dirt out of his eyes quickly and looked around. He was alone.
Plink.
Dean jumped and looked around wildly, muddy water splashing jarringly loud around his feet in the quiet cave.
Plink.
A relieved breath shuttered out of his lungs. It was only the water dripping from before. The sound was much louder on this side of the cavern, like it was right next to him.
He continued more cautiously until he reached the opposite wall and then traced the wall with one hand until the wall disappeared out from under it, revealing a dark gap the size of a doorway.
With his heart hammering somewhere in his throat, Dean stuck his head around the wall, expecting to see...well, something other than what he found.
It was another cavern, even more spacious than the last, stretching out at least fifty feet in diameter. The ceiling was roughly twelve feet high with a hole in the middle allowing moonlight to filter in. Where the rock and dirt floor were in the other caves, a few inches of water covered the bottom of the entire cavern. And the water was...strange. Now Dean is no scientist, but there must have been something in the water, and it wasn't Carrie Underwood. More like algae or sulfur, because it shone a flourecent emerald green and cast a sickly light over the walls.
Dean retracted his head from the alcove and took another look around the cavern he entered through, but it was just solid rock going on forever. It really looked like the suspicious green cave was his best bet at a shortcut out of the cliffs.
He was so screwed.
Dean stepped over the foot ledge at the bottom of the doorway and into the water with a jarring splash. It was deeper that it had first appeared, almost up to his knees, and surprisingly warm, almost too warm, confirming that it was a sulfur hot spring.
He took another step further into the cave and the water rose to his thigh.
Dean looked over his shoulder back the way he'd come. Maybe he should just go back and climb up the mine shaft. But no, the water wasn't uncomfortable, and he could see the outside through the hole in the roof even if he couldn't get to it yet. This was the much better choice.
He took another step and the water rose a few more inches. He wouldn't mind a hot bath right now. Something brushed his foot and he nudged it out of the way. He stopped ten feet into the cavern, directly under the shaft of moonlight. Maybe he could climb up there somehow.
After a few minutes of enjoying the warmth of the water, he had a plan.
The ceiling of the cave was high, but not impossibly so. Dean ran at an angle toward a bump in the cave wall jutting out toward the hole and used the momentum to push off and up in an arc toward the cavern mouth. He missed by a mile and crashed down into the water. He landed fully submerged in the water on his ass on the sandy floor in the middle of the pool.
A frustrated burst of bubbles floated up from Dean's mouth and he scrambled to his feet, eager to try again. As he took a step toward the wall, the leg of his jeans was brushed again. It felt like a vine or piece of seaweed had gotten tangled around his ankle.
Dean grumbled and reached down into the water to untangle the seaweed. His hand closed around a soft, fleshy tube and he tugged. It put up a fight for a moment, stuck fast and then it suddenly uprooted, coming easily in Dean’s grip.
Dean’s hand broke the surface with its wiggly contents. He frowned at the thing in his grasp. It was a brownish-green color that blended in almost perfectly with the water, with pale, symmetrical disks along one side, lined up two by two exactly like suckers on a—
An identical slimy green thing wrapped around his lower thigh and he felt more underwater coil around his feet and calves.
—Like suckers on a tentacle.
The tentacle in his hand suckered around his wrist. Dean's breath was ripped out of his throat by an involuntary scream.
The primitive sound ricocheted off the cavern walls, magnifying the sound tenfold. The tentacle, for that was what it was, released his hand and slid back into the water by Dean’s feet the way someone will instinctively draw a hurt limb closer to them. The entire pool writhed in outrage.
Dean tried to take a step backwards, toward the entrance to the cave and found he couldn't move; his legs were wrapped in hundreds of squirming tentacles, holding him in place. The water bubbled in front of Dean and he struggled against the tentacles, kicking and pulling to no avail. He cursed himself for ever coming down here, because now he was going to get killed by a giant squid of all things. Vampires don't die easy but crushing will kill pretty much anything with a corporeal form. And if it doesn’t, he’ll wish it had.
He cried out again, “Help! Anybody!—” He was beginning to sweat in the humid air of the caves and the exertion of trying to get free. “—There’s a fucking squid trying to kill me!”
The water bubbled more vigorously until something small looking and dark appeared just under the surface. He was nowhere near prepared for it to break the surface.
His first thought was 'that is so not a squid'.
As the dark thing broke the surface it took the organic shape of wet hair, human hair. It was followed by a face that would haunt Dean’s dreams.
It was a man with skin cast milky green by the glowing water, high cheekbones and a beautiful down-turned mouth. His eyes were a deep, clear blue that sailors would dive into and drown. In that split second, Dean almost wanted to. Wet black hair stuck to his forehead and sent rivulets of water down his neck and bare shoulders and chest.
"Woah," Dean breathed involuntarily.
The man didn’t react, just stared at him like he wanted to eat him up.
Dean blushed in embarrassment and tried to pocket his hand only to find that stuffing your hand into a wet jeans pocket is gross as hell. He removed his hand from the pocket and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uhm…”
Dean felt a tentacle creep up his inner thigh as he stared back breathless at the gorgeous stranger, and he crashed back down to earth with all the intensity of a nausea attack. This wasn’t a hookup in a bar, this was quite literally life and death. His stomach rolled, already hating himself for anything that might happen to the stranger he already felt so protective over.
“Hey man, what's your name?” He said quickly, internally cursing himself for getting distracted. He felt a sick wave of gratitude however that he wasn’t alone anymore.
“We gotta get outta here, man. There’s something in the water. It’s got me already, but there must be rocks or something to cut it off me. Do you see anything? Anything that could let us escape...” Even as Dean said the word 'escape', he felt a tentacle wrap possesively around his waist.
The man blinked.
“C’mon, man, you gotta listen to me— “
“Castiel,” the man rumbled. His voice was unexpectedly deep and harsh like brine.
“Castiel,” Dean breathed, the name slipped out of his mouth, easy as water, “You gotta listen to me, Castiel. Run.”
The man tilted his head. "You shouldn't be here." He looked conflicted. The muscles across his defined torso jumped and tensed like he was holding himself back.
Dean barely kept from crying out as he watched a tentacle creep out of the water and stroke Castiel’s pec.
The man looked down at the appendage and his body relaxed slightly as Cas' eyes darkened. He looked back up at Dean with a small smile.
"It's going to be okay, Dean."
“Okay?" He demanded incredulously, "What about this..." He trailed off.
Dean stood stock still in the water—not that there was much else he could do cocooned in a mass of tentacles all the way up to his waist—and watched the beautiful man move toward him in one fluid motion. For a second Dean thought Castiel was coming to try and free him, but then—
"I never told you my name."
Castiel didn't answer. He just reached out a hand and cupped Dean's cheek with a soft, warm hand. Dean tried to jerk away but a thick tentacle wrapped around his neck like lightning, forcing the man to stay stock-still as Castiel ran his thumb lightly over Dean's bottom lip. Dean felt a sudden urge to bite it, but he was afraid any kind of movement would result in his neck being snapped.
"What are you?" He tried again.
Castiel ignored him and continued exploring Dean's face as the tentacles—his tentacles—explored Dean's body. He could feel the suckers crawling over his jeans and t-shirt. He gasped when he felt one slip up under his shirt.
"Come here often?" Dean rasped, "Is this what you do with your free time? Assault random spelunkers and invade their personal space?"
"Only when they look like you." The creature said it with reverence, like it was supposed to be a fucking compliment.
"Oh. Okay, so I'm special?" Cause that made Dean feel so much better about this whole thing.
"So beautiful," Castiel groaned as a small tentacle wormed its way under Dean's belt buckle and Dean suddenly had a terrible suspicion he knew where this was going.
"Hey look," He said with a panicked smile, "I get it, I'm a hot piece of ass. Why don't we talk this out and you can tell me what you want."
"You," Castiel groaned. His hands ran over Dean's sides and Dean batted them away.
"Yeah, yeah I get that. But c'mon, you don't want to do thi—"
Castiel let out a growl of frustration, "Stop talking. You're making this more difficult." He wrenched Dean's jaw open wide enough for a thick tentacle to stuff itself into his mouth and down his throat.
Dean wretched and spluttered around the slimy length and involuntary tears began to pour out of his eyes.
"That's better," Castiel smiled sweetly and even through his panicked brain Dean couldn't help but marvel at how angelic his captor looked. Like a handsome prince from a fairytale. So it really was jarring when a tentacle hooked around the collar of his t-shirt and tore it off him straight down the middle.
The tentacle that had been wrapped around Dean's throat released and he abruptly fell to his knees into waist-deep water. His bare knees scraped the rocky seabed. His brain was starting to shut down from lack of oxygen and he hadn't even noticed that he had been stripped naked. He looked up one last time, his eyes almost rolling back into his head. As if Castiel had heard his final plea, the tentacle slid out of his throat in a scrape of skin and blood.
He tilted his head back, taking deep shaking breaths and was horrified to feel blood dripping out of the corners of his mouth. Castiel was reaching out to him again and Dean tried to shrink back but found himself cornered by writhing tentacles.
"Please," Dean tried but all that came out was a wet gurgling sound. He realized the entire time that thing was fucking into in his mouth he had been screaming himself raw.
Castiel pet his hair gently and Dean instinctively leaned into the touch for comfort. He instantly drew back but it was too late. How could he seek comfort from someone who had hurt him and was probably about to violate him further. He must be deeply sick in the head.
"Sweet human. You don't deserve this," Castiel murmured sadly and for a moment Dean thought he would be left alone now.
But Castiel shuttered a little and the moment passed. His thumb pressed back into the corner of Dean's mouth. Outraged at the apparent fake show of empathy, Dean did what he should have done before and bit down hard. The monster shrieked and closed his eyes in pain.
Something sticky flowed into Dean's mouth and his eyes nearly rolled back into his head with pleasure at how good it tasted.
When his eyes opened, Castiel was looming above him, his eyes furious. He jamed his thumb further into his mouth and Dean took it sucking and licking at the sweet liquid with soft moans until Castiel was grinning, his teeth perfectly straight and white and horrible. Dean hated it, but he couldn't have faked the unwilling moan that built up in his chest at the feeling of a tentacle curling around his dick.
Castiel tugged at his lip until Dean, almost in a trance, unlatched his jaw. He forced his mouth open until there was a harsh clicking noise. Dean tried to flex his jaw and to his horror found that he couldn't move it an inch. The mandible was locked in place. His body started shaking as Castiel rose to his full height with Dean pressed close to him. An erect cock brushed his cheek.
If Dean had thought his throat had been well and truly fucked before, that was nothing compared to this. Castiel thrust in past Dean's gag reflex and Dean choked violently around the length in his mouth. He had no choice but to try and relax his throat if he wanted to be able to breathe. He was given half a moment to try to relax before Castiel withdrew out his mouth only to fuck back in at a punishing pace. Only the tentacles wrapped around his torso and intertwined in his hair kept Dean from completely collapsing. The tentacle around his dick began to stroke in time with the trusts and he felt it start to harden. A tear trickled down his cheek, lost in the mix of salt water and blood. He really was a sick fuck.
He barely noticed when Castiel came.
He found himself choking on semen when Castiel suddenly pulled out, leaving him breathless. He tried to spit it out but a tentacle gripped his chin and forced his head back so that the come slid down his throat. It stung horribly as it trickled past the scrapes in his throat. He was honestly surprised he could feel anything at this point. On top of Castiel's. . .administrations, his legs had gone numb from kneeling. He could barely feel the warm water saturating him.
"Good boy," Castiel murmured, as he ran his fingers through Dean's frazzled hair making it stick up in damp spikes. "You'll make such a good mother."
"Mo'er?" Dean croaked in confusion. It wasn't a word he had ever imagined being directed at himself. He couldn't even comprehend what it could mean in this context.
A tentacle snakes around his middle in a firm possessive way that made Dean sick to his stomach.
"So beautiful, and strong," sincerity dripped from Castiel's words and Dean had to physically restrain himself from leaning into soothing administrations. He just wanted, needed some sort of comfort in the middle of the trauma.
The monster dropped onto its haunches so that it was on Dean's level, their faces only inches apart. Dean stared down at the water lapping at his stomach and refused to look up. He would rather look at the evidence of his own arousal. At least then maybe he could justify deserving this as some kind of twisted punishment.
A trickle of blood dribbled from his mouth into the translucent green water.
Finally, after a long minute of silence, he took a shaky breath and forced himself to look up. Through wet, clumped eyelashes, Castiel's eyes met his, dark and hungry. Dean wondered if it was a trick of the light or were Castiel's eyes really that blue. It was like looking into the depths of the ocean and it answering you back, saying—
"You're mine. Forever," Castiel whispered, and he gripped Dean tight and sunk into the water like a stone.
***
Dean spluttered and fought against the strong arms and appendages wrapped around him with the panic of a dying man, and yet still Castiel swum deeper. There must have been some sort of ledge in the pool where it dropped off or a channel to the ocean or something because the cave was suddenly hundreds of feet deep. Five seconds down and he felt his ears pop. Ten seconds and he felt them start to bleed. He gave up on fighting, and long dark ringlets of blood followed him as he was dragged deeper and deeper.
It took him fifteen seconds to realize his eyes had been closed and he opened them to see a murky green glow over the smooth and surprisingly warm thing his face was pressed against. Castiel's shoulder. His vision started to black out. He lost count by the time they came to a halt, it could have been seconds or minutes.
The creature held Dean at arm’s length, hands braced on Dean's shoulders and tentacles suckered onto every available piece of skin.
Give In.
Castiel's voice didn't come from his mouth but echoed around the expanse of water like the rumbling crash of waves on the shore.
You Are Mine. You Were Made For This.
Dean saw a flash a silver and felt something slice into the side of his neck. He couldn't react as he was cut over and over again. He just floated there in Castiel's tight embrace with his head lolled to one side. His brain was becoming static from the lack of oxygen and the pressure stabded into his head even deeper than the knife.
Still Castiel kept imparting his message. The low-pitched frequency made Dean's bones rattle in his skin.
It Could Be So Easy. Just Let Go. Don't You Want This?
"Not happening," Dean mumbled but it came out as bubbles. He tried to take a breath and water flowed into his mouth and out again through the cuts on his throat. A rush of oxygen entered his brain. Dean only had time to jerk his head back from where it was resting on Castiel's shoulder and see a strange look on the creatures' face before he blacked out from the pressure.
***
A fog of salty, fishy air descended into Dean's lungs sending him retching. And then he realized: air. He took deep gulping breaths of the foul, delicious air, and tried to shift his arms only to find they were free. He opened his eyes and found himself alone in the cave. The water was glowing creepy as ever, but it was still and appeared empty.
Dean laughed out loud. The wild noise echoed off the cave walls, sounding hysterical even to him. Castiel had let him go.
He stumbled to his feet. That was a mistake as his vision blacked out for a moment. Dean dropped back onto his knees. The warm water, while still icky, was now comforting instead of distressing. Dean bent his head and waited for his vision to clear.
He stared down at the calm water. There was a vague notion in his addled head of him somehow breathing underwater, but it must have been a dream caused by lack of oxygen. Anyway, it didn't matter now because he was free.
Dean smiled and splashed some of the warm water over his face to clean off the blood and grime, and clear his head.
After a second, his vision cleared. He raised his head to attempt to stand once more, and there, amid the floaters dancing in his vision, were two ocean blue eyes.
"Fuck."
***
"Fuck," Dean moaned unwillingly, tears streaming down his face as Castiel's thick cock rammed against his prostate, hitting it every few thrusts, almost as an afterthought, but the small amount of pleasure amid the pain was enough to have Dean's dick semi-hard again anyway.
He was neck deep in water, bent over a slimy pile of tentacles, and choking down salt water that stung his throat as each thrust from behind sent his face underwater. Castiel's hands pressed him down into the mass, his grunts echoed around the cave, animalistic and ancient.
"Such a beautiful vessel," The creature muttered to himself as he drove into the man below him to the hilt. Dean gasped as his prostate was brushed against. "Our children will be beautiful."
A sticky tentacle suckered its way across Dean's cheek and curled its tip into the corner of his lips. Dean got a sick sense of deja vu.
"No. NO."
But the monster did not heed his pleas and the tentacle wormed its way into Dean's mouth and snaked down his torn-up throat. He shrieked in pain as the irritated skin was broken again and fresh blood poured into his mouth, warm and metallic, and dribbled out of the edges of his lips where they were stretched tight around the thick tentacle.
Something joined the tentacle in Dean's mouth, but he knew that was impossible as his mouth was completely blocked by the tentacle. There was no way the squishy golf ball of jelly could have gotten in. But it had and it slid down Dean's throat at a snail's pace.
Dean's gag reflex protested at the additional intrusion, and he almost didn't notice Castiel has stopped fucking him. A strong hand fisted his hair and pulled his head around hard enough that his body naturally followed so that he was now laying on his back, facing the monster who was watching him with parted lips. Fingers ghosted over Dean's throat where a slight bulge was moving downward.
A second jelly sphere slid into Dean's mouth. It was such a strange consistency. The only comparable thing Dean could think of, was melon balls or maybe some kind of giant caviar.
Eggs.
They were eggs.
Dean felt the panic attack coming on before it hit. Where he had before somehow been heavily breathing through the water in his throat, he now could barely get more than a shallow wiff of stale oxygen. His eyes rolled back in his head and his gag reflex went crazy. It spasmed and constricted around the tentacle and eggs in his throat, trying to force them out.
A tentacle wrapped around his head harshly forcing him still. He barely felt lips ghosting over his jaw and where his lips stretched tight as he fought for breath.
A third egg slid down his throat just as the first came to rest somewhere deep in his belly. Greedy hands pushed against his stomach until they located the barely visible pooch that had formed around the egg. His belly only grew as more eggs joined the first until there were thirteen nestled deep inside him.
The fullness almost calmed Dean down. His breathing slowed back to normal and he was hit again by the absurdity of the situation. This couldn't be real. Him, hundreds of feet underground in a seaside cave, getting raped by a fucking tentacle monster.
Said tentacle monster was in the process of rearranging Dean's legs around his hips so that Dean was folded in half, and he pushed back into him. Dean hadn't even noticed he had even stopped; he was that fucked out.
He only watched through half hooded eyes, resigned as a thin tentacle wrapped around his semi and coaxed it, winding around his balls and squeezing gently. It slowly began to harden under the tentacle's administrations and Castiel's sudden viscous attack on his prostate, hitting it with each thrust leaving Dean seeing stars.
Since they were now face to face, Dean was staring wide-eyed into Castiel's blue eyes as he was nailed again and again. The two wet bodies meeting with a sharp slapping noise, his cock crushed between Castiel's firm chest and the sloping bulge in his belly.
He whimpered around the tentacle in his mouth at the feeling of those eggs rolling around inside him, knocking against his organ linings. The swollen feeling was almost comforting, to know he wasn't alone through this. That he was carrying life.
It seems Castiel felt them too because he gasped and rested a hand on Dean's stomach as, thrusts stuttering, he came deep inside Dean.
Simultaneously as his come filled Dean's ass, the tentacle in Dean's mouth shot a spurt of cold, syrupy liquid out of its tip and into his throat.
Cas wrapped a hand around Dean's dick and jacked his fist around him until he sobbed as he came to completion all over his swollen belly.
Vaguely, Dean could feel the cold liquid from the tentacle join the eggs in his belly and he was hit by a warm, fuzzy feeling as he watched Castiel pull out of him and the tentacle withdraw from his mouth.
Cas leaned over him; his dark eyes flecked with white like sea foam stood out starkly against the pale green tint of his skin. Strangely they were filled with horror. Dean gasped in adoration as Cas cradled the back of his head with a strong hand and brought him to a sitting position.
"What have I done?" Cas' voice cracked.
"Nothing, nothing," Dean reassured him. Cas was the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, how could he ever do anything wrong. His dark, wet hair swept plastered to his forehead, gorgeous stubble and soft plush looking lips. Without thinking about it, Dean leaned in and pressed a kiss to his bottom lip.
Cas' eyes widened in confusion, and hesitantly kissed Dean back gently at first but growing in intensity. If Dean was younger, he would be already hard again and ready for round two. Round two...
When had they had round one again?
He couldn't remember, anyway it couldn't have mattered much. All that mattered was that he belonged with Cas.
"Stay forever," Dean pleaded, his voice hoarse.
Cas faltered slightly but ignored his question and continued ravishing his mouth, sucking and licking over the already scarlet red skin. Dean kissed right back, meeting him fire with fire.
It might have been minutes or hours but somewhere in their making out, Dean had ended up horizontal on his back. Okay so maybe he was really ready to go for round two. He grabbed two handfuls of Cas' ass bringing their bodies flush. Cas groaned in approval as their cocks rubbed together.
Dean shifted back to lean against the mound of tentacles that provided comfort and safety. As he moved backward, his stomach jolted, and he felt two of the eggs knock into his stomach lining.
The pain must have jolted his memory because in that moment he had a moment of clarity. Castiel had raped him. He had stuffed him full of his brood and then, the syrupy stuff from the tentacle...he had drugged him. It only lasted a second before Dean's eyes went glassy again.
For some reason remembering felt important. Whatever he had remembered, it had something to do with the way his stomach felt stuffed to bursting. So, the next time Cas leaned over him to steal a kiss, Dean pressed a hand down on his stomach painfully.
In the second of clarity he dug his nails into Castiel's shoulders and bit down on Castiel's lower lip hard enough to draw blood. A scream echoed around the cave.
The first taste of metallic red had Dean whining in pleasure. Dean had nearly forgotten the real reason he had strayed so far away from the inn and Pamela that night. He was hungry. And now he knew what that delicious stickiness when he bit Cas' thumb was, because it was now smeared across his teeth again. He laped at the blood on Castiel's lip and felt the creature tense above him. He wrapped his arms around Castiel's torso so that he couldn't back away.
For a moment Dean enjoyed the feeling of Cas being the one unable to escape, and then he pushed Castiel off of him. He arched his head back in pain as long incisors cut through his gums, growing until the sharp bone extended an inch out of Dean's jaw. His pupils dilated as Castiel sat back on his haunches in the water, looking almost as afraid as he had looked when he first saw Dean.
Of course that had all been an act. And now he would get what was coming to him.
He zeroed in on the small bead of blood sitting on Castiel's lip and he half shuffled, half swam the few feet between them and cupped the monster's beautiful face. No, not beautiful—Dean shook his head a little to get rid of the thought that had betrayed him—horrible. He was horrible. He focused on sucking Cas—no, Castiel's cut lip. Dean groaned in frustration even as the blood lit his taste buds on fire.
Snap out of it, Winchester.
The blood at least was amazing. It was sweet and salty like the ocean, easily the best he'd ever tasted, and a literal mere drop in satisfying his desire that only grew the more he tasted. Soon, he knew it would be impossible to stop.
He was counting on it. If anything could snap Dean out of the spell Cas had put him under, it was his blood lust.
Castiel jerked back a few inches. "What are you doing?" He asked Dean, apprehension evident in his voice. Like he had any right to be scared after what he did. Just to make his point he sunk his teeth into Cas' shoulder, fangs driving deep into the warm flesh. Hot red liquid poured out of the wound, staining Dean's mouth scarlet. What escaped his greedy mouth, trickled down Cas' arm in rivulets that looked almost black in the green light of the cave.
"You're a vampire?" Cas growled, his voice breaking with confusion and betrayal.
Dean laughed bitterly and pulled back to grin at him with cherry stained fangs.
"The vampire," he corrected, and made to dive back into the blood fest, but hesitated a moment. He could feel the tentacles around him, for now leaving him alone, but for how long he didn't know.
"You're a the too, aren't you?" He ventured.
Cas didn't answer.
"C'mon, you raped me," Dean spat, barely holding back tears, "The least you could do is answer my question."
"I thought you were human," Cas growled almost defensively.
"Oh, because that would make it all hunky dory if I was a human. You know humans and their little tentacle rape fetishes," Dean said sarcastically.
No comment on the folder of hentai in his laptop at home.
"You're a sick sonofa—"
Without warning, a tentacle lashed around his head effectively gagging him.
"I didn't know, alright," Castiel shouted. The volume seemed to hurt his own ear drums and the monster shrunk back a little. He continued quieter, "I tried to stop. It wouldn't— wouldn't stop."
Fucking bullshit.
With all the force his jaw could muster, Dean bit down on the tentacle gagging. His fangs cut straight through the flesh and severed it clean in two.
Castiel howled.
Dean gulped at the blood pouring from the tentacle like a spout. At his first full mouthful of blood, his eyes went red.
Everything turned fuzzy like static as Dean floundered in the pinkish water, biting anything he could reach and hauling the creature flush against him, the sound of Castiel shrieking music to his ears in an absolute overload of sensory input.
It could have been hours later when Dean was finally sated. He collapsed against the wall of the cavern in the shallow water; his back leaned against the wall and his legs splayed in front of him with his bulging stomach sticking out like an island in the pink water, stuffed full of eggs and blood and cum.
He closed his eyes and dozed off in the warm water. He'd never felt more satisfyingly full in his life.
After what felt like a few minutes he was roused back to wakefulness by a faint dripping noise.
Plink.
Dean opened his eyes, scratching his belly. The cavern was quiet except for the drops of water falling somewhere. Cas (Castiel) was nowhere to be seen.
With some effort, Dean got to his feet. He was way overbalanced by the heaviness in his stomach and would have face planted in the water if he hadn't grabbed onto on outcropping on the cave wall just in time to catch himself. He straightened up, leaning back slightly for balance, and followed the cave wall. With any luck he'd find the doorway he came in from and he could leave and forget any of this ever happened. The weight in his middle said otherwise, however.
He did find something though. Another cave.
Around one bend in the wall of Castiel's cave was another, much smaller cave—a short tunnel really. Its ceiling was high enough that Dean could have stood upright if it weren’t for the stalactites lining the rock forcing him to stoop as he shuffled carefully along the tunnel, holding onto one wall for balance. At its far end was a huge stalactite, shiny with moisture that would periodically fall to the inch of water on the ground with a loud plink.
"There you are, asshole," Dean grumbled to the stalactite, "This is all your fault."
Beyond the stalactite was a hole about the size of a ship's porthole with a stiff breeze blowing through it. He had found the exit.
Getting through it was another matter. It took a lot of wriggling and holding his breath to squeeze through the small space. Finally he popped through landing on his ass on a soft pile of sand. Damn, if he could barely fit through a hole in a cave when faced with a life and death situation, these eggs were gonna do a number on his band tees.
A band tee he wasn't wearing, Dean remembered. He was completely naked thanks to Cas tearing all his clothes off back in the cave. Just the vague memory of what had happened caused a swooping sensation in his gut.
Oh well, it was basically a deserted island anyway. Dean walked along the surf down the beach heading in the vague direction of the inn. The ocean water was freezing compared to the warm water of the pool in the cave. That just further confirmed his suspicions that it had been a sulfur hot spring.
The sky was dark and overcast, no sign if it was day or night, and the beach was made darker by the shadow cast by the cliff that lined the beach. The stretch of sand was empty except for some seagulls pecking at the sand for crabs.
Dean was coming up to the end of the cliff where he would be able to follow a trail up to the hill the inn was on, when he saw something washed up on the beach near the tideline, pale against the white sand.
As he approached the thing took shape and by the time he recognized it, he had to restrain himself both from running away at top speed and running forward like being reunited with a lover.
Cas.
The man—the monster—was a crumpled mess of sand and blood. Dean absentmindedly licked his lips at the red swear in the sand. Castiel was the same color as the sand, laid on his side with his tentacles spead out behind him like a giant wing. If it was a wing then it was surely a broken one. Dean couldn't see a single tentacle without a piece missing or deep teeth marks.
He pushed Castiel's shoulder (also torn up and bloody) so that the creature rolled over on his back. His eyes were closed and his chest wasn't moving.
Dean did that.
He should feel proud of himself for fighting back, for warding off his attacker, but instead he just feels sad. He doubts either of them would ever heal. Why did it ever have to happen?
He tells himself that's why he went back to the inn, and, after getting dressed and assuring Pamela that he was fine, piled all the first aid supplies he could find in a backpack and brought it back to the beach.
And when he realized Cas had gills, not lungs, that's why he dragged him into the surf and submerged him in the freezing water.
It's only when Cas is lying in the bathtub of Dean's suite breathing softly through the tap water with added table salt as he sleeps, and Dean is sitting in the corner on a rickety wooden chair with one hand resting on the place the eggs are hidden as he watches Cas sleep, that he wonders, maybe, if he's still drugged up from Cas' tentacle.