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Dean knelt on the hard concrete floor of the dungeon, the iron of the Devil’s trap burning his skin through his jeans. He had been unable to wrench himself out of Cas’ bear-trap grip as he was marched back down into the dungeon, but he had been able to fling the chair he had previously been bound to into the wall and smash it to smithereens. That had been a very shortsighted move. Sam and Cas had wrestled him down and bound him, wrists to ankles, like an animal. Now, without the chair in the way, he could feel the sting of the trap’s magic directly. It made his skin crawl and set off a bone deep ache in his body. No matter how he shifted, some part of his legs would touch iron. He refused to move. He wouldn’t give Cas the satisfaction.
The weight of Cas’ eyes on him hurt worse than holy water. Dean wanted to cut out every unblinking eye and leave Cas blind. He wanted them to stay focused on him forever, even as he set the world on fire. But more than that Dean wanted him to say something, to do anything other than stand there watching him impassively as though Dean was just another meaningless demon-of-the-week. That rankled more than the indignity of getting captured again.
“Don’t you have better things to do instead of babysitting me, man?”
Cas just stared at him.
“Heaven kick you out on your ass again? Come on, bet they need your big strong angel arms somewhere other than Kansas.”
Again, nothing.
“ Sheesh , tough crowd.”
Dean rolled his head around on his neck. “Can you get another chair? My knees are starting to hurt - promise I won’t throw it at you.” Dean waited a moment, “Okay that’s a no.”
Sam had gone to sleep, exhausted after the chase through the bunker, saying that Cas’ presence meant they could complete the ritual the next day. Dean almost wished his annoying little brother was there because that might have distracted Cas from flaying him open with his gaze.
“What I don’t understand,” he said, sitting back a little on his heels, “is what your whole deal is. Sammy, I get, he thinks he should save me because he’s my brother, which is a stupid reason. Now you on the other hand, you saw me in Hell. You know me. Surely you knew this is where I was always headed. Now that Michael’s gone,” he blinked and flashed his pitch black eyes, “ this is your righteous man’s destiny.”
Bingo.
“You’ve always fought against destiny, Dean!” The words burst out of Cas like a broken dam, “Why are you stopping now, you’re more than this, more than what you did in Hell, I know you and I l-”
Cas wrestled himself back under control and stepped back into the shadows by the shelving.
"But this is it, Cas, this is me." Dean grinned, "Funny that it took becoming a demon to cleanse me of the bullshit I was dragging along with me."
“You aren’t yourself, Dean,” Cas whispered.
“I am myself! I’m more myself than I’ve ever been and you’re trying to kill me for it.”
“We’re trying to save you!” Cas snapped.
“By damning me! I’m finally free and you want me to go back to that - that prison of loathing and shame and why-does-no-one-love-me whinging.” Dean looked away. He hadn't meant to reveal so much and fought to keep himself from grimacing.
Cas stayed silent.
“You don’t want to save me, you don't want me ,” Dean growled, “you want that other Dean. You're welcome to that pussy ," Dean punctuated the last word by thrusting his hips obscenely, "even though he'll hold you at arms length out of fear.”
Cas moved, just a little, like he couldn’t help it, out of the shadows towards Dean. Human eyes might not have caught the movement but Dean latched onto that moment of weakness with his claws.
“Oh, didn’t you know?”, he gasped innocently, “Couldn’t you - couldn’t you feel how hard he wanted you, how much he ached for you. He’d never do anything,” Dean smiled as sympathetically as a hungry shark, “and I’d definitely know.”
Cas didn’t move a millimetre but Dean could taste the tension in his posture. Dean rocked forward a little bit and the seam of his jeans rubbed on his dick.
“Y’know, I’d almost feel sorry for how fucking pathetic the guy was for you, if you weren’t trying to bring him back. He’d suck his on his fingers like a baby because he was too much a coward to ask for your cock. And he’d beat off to you beating him into the ground and then send you away because that was better than you leaving him, like Sam, like his daddy.” Dean remembered something and chuckled, “It’s priceless really - see, he’d get drunk, and in the middle of jerking off - start crying like a bitch because you weren’t there to breed him like a bitch!”
Cas gasped and staggered back into the metal shelves behind him. Finally. Dean smelt the blood in the water. He leaned forward to sniff out his prey.
“Oh, you like that, you pervert. Shame he was too goddamn repressed to let you do it - you really want that closet case back?”
Dean watched Cas try to compose himself again. Time to twist the knife.
“He’d been saving himself for you, never let anyone fuck him there, never would unless it was you. He’d put hand on his belly and think about it getting all fat and round with widdle angel babies. Think about it, Cas, you coulda had his virginity and put a baby in him at the same time. You coulda had him begging you to pump him so full of cum it spilled outta him. Oh hey - do angels come more or -”
“You’re lying,” Cas rasped, but he had slowly moved forward while Dean was speaking and finally stepped into the circle of light, pulled into Dean's gravity.
“Nope,” Dean flashed him a coquettish grin, “there's no need - I can hurt you more with the truth. You missed your chance, if he'd ever have given you one. I'm not li-" suddenly Dean noticed that Cas was doing something strange, "The fuck are you sniffing the air for? All you're gonna get is sulfur."
The stricken look melted off Cas' face and was replaced by something smug, something dark. His eyes had teeth.
"Oh Dean," he purred, "even now you're an infernal thing, you still underestimate me." Cas shut his eyes and took a deep hungry breath. "I can smell you."
"Well, yeah, like you said: 'infernal thing'. It's just sulfur."
"I'm an angel, Dean, my senses are sharper than any human and most demons. I can smell you ."
Cas stepped forward, into the Devil's trap and looked down at Dean. Somehow Dean had lost control. His foundations were crumbling. Dean wanted to cringe away with every step Cas took but he was trapped, powerless.
"If you, when you were human, were pathetic for wanting to be bred by me - what are you now? If you, a Prince of Hell, are so desperate to be my 'bitch', as you put it, that I can smell how hard you are. How wet."
Nothing of 'Cas' remained. He was all Castiel, angel of the Lord, in his wrathful majesty once again.
Dean scoffed and looked away, "The hell are you talking about, I'm not -"
Castiel took the final step, ending up in between Dean's knees. And then he took another. And then he brought his foot forward, ever so slowly, and rubbed Dean's cock through his jeans. Dean grunted and clenched his bound hands into fists. His breath came out in quick little snorts as he dug his nails deep in the soft flesh of his palms and tried to lock every muscle in place as Castiel rubbed his toe agonisingly slowly up and down his crotch. The tip of the heavy sole kept catching on the sensitive head of his cock and Dean's thighs quivered each time that happened.
"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?" Dean said through gritted teeth. Without thinking, he bucked his hips up into that sweet pressure.
Castiel looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.
"But isn't this what you wanted?"
Dean growled, "No it isn't, and you, uh uh, you know that." Dean was mindlessly humping Castiel's shoe now, chasing the tantalising friction that he seemed to be holding just out of reach. "Come on, man, just fuck me instead, I'll be so good to you, I'll make it so -"
"What makes you think I want to touch a dirty creature like you?" Castiel interrupted. His words were almost disinterested but, at the same time, he leaned down and gently brushed away the tears of frustration that gathered in Dean's eyes.
“Cas, Cas, please Cas , I’m - ah!” Dean panted as he ground down on Cas’ shoe, “Please lemme, lemme - give me something, Cas, please …”
Castiel wound his fingers into Dean’s short hair and yanked his head back. He stared down at him impassively.
“Open your mouth,” Castiel commanded.
Dean whined and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out. Castiel leaned down and spat into his waiting mouth. The heavy glob of spit landing on the back of his tongue made Dean jerk backwards in shock, even as a pulse of arousal shuddered through him, but Castiel’s hand held him in place and he swallowed it reflexively.
"Fuck you, Cas," Dean groaned and ground down harder on the tip of Castiel's shoe. The blunt pressure was muted by the layers of clothing in the way and was just on the wrong side of enough. The skin on his cheek prickled and he could an aching bruise just beginning to bloom.
"That's not what I meant and you know -"
He gasped as Castiel struck him across the face hard enough that he would have fallen if Castiel hadn't kept a vice grip on his hair. His lip split and Dean spat a mouthful of sulfuric blood onto the floor. He bared his teeth at Castiel in a bloody snarl. Castiel didn't even flinch.
"Listen to me, boy," Castiel's deep voice rumbled through Dean's bones like far-off thunder, "I decide when you've earned my cock. Do you think you've been good enough, boy?"
Dean panted hard and whined. He wanted to kill Cas, slice him open with an angel blade and feast on his innards; he wanted to turn the First Blade on himself and cut out the mangled, charred remains of his heart to give to him. He wanted to push up into Castiel's strong hands; he wanted to wrench his head out of his grip and run away. He wanted to stay kneeling at Castiel's feet; he wanted to be spread out and fucked hard into the floor. He wanted. He wanted -
"Please Castiel," he begged, "please tell me I've been good."
"No, you haven't," Castiel lifted up his foot and crushed his heel into Dean's crotch, grinding it down directly onto his over-sensitive cock. Dean threw his head back and came, sobbing. He twitched and moaned as Castiel kept his heel squashing Dean's poor over-stimulated cock.
"You haven't been a good boy, you're just a very bad dog ."