Wrote a Destiel ficlet inspired by this post about how Dean and/or Cas would fold their clothes neatly before sex.
“Stop, stop.”
Castiel obeys—of course he does—despite the desire that still courses through him. Dean looks as wrecked as Castiel feels, his chest heaving with rapid breaths, lips a rosy pink from the kiss that started in the kitchen and ended up here in Dean’s room, interrupted only by brief pauses to remove articles of clothing. And yet… now it seems Dean has changed his mind.
Castiel takes a step back and tries to compose himself, to steel himself against the inevitable rejection. “Of course. If you no longer—” is as far as he gets before Dean surprises him by pulling him back in for a quick kiss.
“Hey. I didn’t mean stop stop,” Dean murmurs against his lips, even though that was precisely what he said. “I just…” He pulls away to look past Castiel’s shoulder, down toward the floor. “I got carried away on our way here, but… Our clothes. We can’t leave ’em like that.”
“Because of Sam,” Castiel realizes. “So he won't guess what we're doing if he comes back.”
He doesn’t expect Dean to snort like he just said something ludicrous.
“Look, if I get to have this,” Dean says, tugging Castiel’s hips against his own for emphasis, “then I don’t give a crap if Sammy hears me screaming out your name or sees me walking funny after. It’s just—I, uh. I can’t do this knowing there are clothes on the floor. I gotta—gotta fold ’em.”
“Oh.” It's endearing—or Castiel would find it endearing if a sudden inexplicable surge of arousal didn't threaten to take him out at the knees. “Of course, Dean. I'll help you.”
“Yeah? You don’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Maybe there’s something in Castiel’s face that gives him away, because Dean appraises him for a moment, then winks. “Maybe you can convince me to wear a maid outfit for you sometime. Now, c’mon.”
It takes a moment before Castiel’s limbs are willing to cooperate, but eventually he joins Dean in retracing their path through the bunker and picking up their discarded clothes. Anticipation makes the air crackle between them as they return to Dean’s bedroom, clothes bundled in their arms—or maybe that is Castiel’s grace going haywire, considering the literal sparks that rain down over them.
Dean, it appears, has a knack for folding clothes quickly that Castiel doesn’t possess. He only has the time to fold his own tie and his coat before Dean tells him to keep undressing and hand him the rest of his clothes. In the end he stands there fully naked and fully aroused as he watches Dean’s hands deftly manipulate fabric into rectangles that fit neatly on top of each other.
“May I?” Castiel asks when the only clothes left to fold are Dean’s pants and underwear, which are—frustatingly—still on him.
“Yeah,” Dean breathes, eyes fluttering shut when Castiel steps forward, hand brushing against the hem of his jeans and soft belly skin that twitches under his touch. He pushes gently and Dean goes willingly, splaying himself out on the bed for Castiel to expose the rest of him.
Dean’s thighs are a revelation; so are his knees, his ankles, his cock. Castiel wants to touch, wants to taste; instead, reverently, he sits back and folds Dean’s pants and underwear while Dean’s eyes follow his hands, pupils blown. The moment he is done, Dean sits up only to tug Castiel back down with him. “God. Didn’t know that would be so hot,” he says. Castiel couldn't agree more, but in lieu of saying so, he lets his lips and body crash into Dean's.
True to his word, Dean doesn’t seem to care that he is indeed walking funny when they finally make it out of the room and find Sam in the library with headphones on. He does, however, avoid direct eye contact with his brother for a week after an incident involving laundry, a maid outfit and an unlocked door—but in the end, two out of the three occupants of the bunker decide it was worth it anyway.
Castiel opens his eyes—normally he wouldn't need them to see, but the sigils on his collar and on the cell walls have dulled some of his senses.
The person standing outside the bars is Dean, his tormentor's son. Castiel already knew by the sound of his voice—by the warmth that is as absent from John’s voice as it is from his soul.
“I wish you ate,” Dean says, gripping the bars and staring dolefully inside Castiel's prison. “Wish there was something I could bring you.”
Castiel doesn't answer. Doesn't know what he'd reply, even if the collar hadn't taken away his voice. While Dean is a far better man than his father, he is also complicit in Castiel’s imprisonment.
Maybe Castiel would make his ears bleed.
“God.” Dean's head bows. “I don't know what Dad's thinking, keeping you locked up like this. It's not right. I—” His chest expands, and he looks around as if checking to see if John might overhear. “I'd set you free if I could,” he murmurs, eyes shuttered, and he reaches a hand inside the bars as if he doesn't even mean to do it—as if his soul is simply reaching out for Castiel's grace.
It's careless. Dean is close enough that Castiel could tear his arm off if he wanted; he may be shackled to the wall by his collar, but his hands are free.
The same thought seems to occur to Dean. His breath hitches, but he doesn't pull away when Castiel slowly raises his own hand to touch another living being for the first time in the five years since he was imprisoned here.
Foolish. Dean is a fool to trust Castiel like this.
Castiel is a fool not to maim him.
“Wish I knew what you were thinking,” Dean says softly. “The way you look at me, I swear sometimes it feels like you want to either smite me or fuck me.” He glances down at the place where Castiel's vessel's penis rests, soft between his thighs, and smiles ruefully. “Probably smite me, huh?”
Castiel should want to smite him. Dean is hardly free of guilt; he could unlock Castiel's cell and his collar anytime he wanted, and he continually chooses not to. And yet… Dean is just a son duty-bound to his father, like Castiel used to be—before his father proved he didn't care enough about Castiel to release him from captivity.
“Would you?” Dean asks, eyes searching Castiel's. “Smite me? If I set you free?”
Castiel does no more than drop his gaze to their joined hands, but Dean still nods as if he can gather Castiel's answer just from that. Perhaps something in his expression gave him away, some softness he didn't intend to show.
“And… what about Dad? Would you smite him?”
This time, Castiel offers only a hard stare, and Dean sighs and scrubs his face with his free hand.
“Look, I get it, I do. God knows he'd deserve it for what he's doing to you. But I—”
Castiel hears the end to the unfinished sentence—I can't be the cause of my father's death.
It is not a disappointment. Dean has not set Castiel free thus far, and he was under no illusion that he would do so now. Hope will do him no good in this place where even God has forsaken him.
He regards Dean, sees the regret on his face, and squeezes his hand out of some inexplicable impulse. It pleases him when it makes Dean gaze into his eyes.
“Cas,” Dean says, voice raw with some emotion Castiel cannot decipher. “Can I—is it okay if I come in?”
Dean is a well of surprises. Every time Castiel thinks he's beginning to understand the man, he proves him wrong—like the first time he received a prayer from Dean, showing him images of the world outside this prison and telling him about his day and the state of the world. Keeping him company, even when he couldn't visit.
Castiel releases Dean's hand and stands back, giving permission to enter. He's not stupid enough to think this represents an opportunity to escape—Dean will hardly be carrying the collar key with him—but it is something new and different, and he welcomes it. Welcomes Dean's presence.
“Hey there,” Dean says again once he's inside, his back pressed to the bars—a little afraid, perhaps, his pupils consuming most of the green in his eyes. “This is stupid,” he says, licking his lips, and it’s hard to tell if he's talking to Castiel or to himself. “I'm being stupid. You're a frickin’ A-bomb with a collar and you don't even talk, I don't even know if—I mean, it's probably sacrilegious of me to think that we have some kind of… connection, right?”
It probably is.
Castiel doesn't care much about sacrilege anymore.
He reaches out again, stopping short of touching Dean thanks to his chain, and Dean's eyelashes flutter and cast shadows over his cheekbones. “I really hope you're not going to kill me,” he mutters—and takes a step forward.
Trust.
Castiel has never known trust before. He has known faith, devotion, obedience, but not trust.
Castiel's hand—the one he now touches to Dean's chest, where his heart is beating wildly underneath layers of fabric—could easily crush him.
And yet.
Dean trusts.
Castiel marvels at it, and at the warmth and the pulse of life underneath his splayed fingers.
He explores further, moves his hand up until it encounters skin at the base of Dean's neck, and he presses his thumb into the spot where he once again can feel the rhythm of Dean's blood pumping through his veins.
“Cas,” Dean gasps, leaning into it rather than away from it—trusting again—and letting his eyes flutter closed.
Perhaps Dean is not foolish for trusting him after all; Castiel cannot find within himself a desire to harm Dean, only to feel him, know him.
Dean's lips, when his fingers move there next, part on a shaky exhale. His breath, warm and humid, brings unfamiliar sensations to Castiel's fingertips, and sensing no resistance from Dean he lets them dip inside.
Softness is a foreign thing for Castiel after spending years in this dungeon. His collar is steel, the floor and the walls of his cell cold, unforgiving stone.
Dean's tongue is velvet.
It flexes and gives under Castiel's fingers, shaping itself to them and sucking them deeper, and Castiel feels something—something in between sensation and emotion. Dean is beautiful like this, eyes closed as if in prayer, and his eyes blink open slowly when Castiel withdraws his fingers.
“Cas,” Dean says, looking as entranced as Castiel feels—and then the heavy clang of the dungeon door makes him jump back, eyes wide with panic.
“Get out of there, Dean.” John's voice is a steel blade, and Castiel can see the moment it cuts into Dean. Still, he remains where he is, helplessly staring at Castiel until—
“Dean! You deaf, boy?” John barks, and finally Dean slinks out of the cell and closes the door behind him, head bowed.
“Out. I'll deal with you later.” John doesn't even offer his son a look as he stalks toward the cell, which means only Castiel sees the forlorn look on his face before he turns away.
The dungeon door announces Dean's departure, and John steps up to the bars.
Castiel wants to kill him. Wants to say, Your son's saliva is still drying on my fingers.
Thanks to the cold metal around his neck, he can do neither.
“I don't know what the hell kinda mojo you used on Dean,” John says icily, “but he won't be coming down here anymore. This is the last time you've seen him.”
And then he turns on his heel and marches out and leaves Castiel in his cell—chained and alone and colder than he has felt in a long time.
So apparently I lied when I said I wouldn't start working on the prompts until the 5th, and uh... I thought I'd be writing less than 1000 words for each prompt, and that also turned out to be wrong.
Prompt: sex pollen and somnophilia, Kirk/Spock
It's the grumbled "Dammit, Jim" from somewhere near him that lets Jim know he just woke up in sickbay rather than his own quarters. Well. Saying that he woke up is an exaggeration; it's more like he's on a sliding scale of wakefulness and just went from a zero to a one. He manages to get one eye open, which prompts more chiding from Bones—something about taking chances with alien substances—but he's not awake enough to pay attention to it.
The last thing he remembers from before he lost consciousness is the welcome ceremony the strangely Vulcan-like inhabitants of the planet below held for him and Spock, and the fragrant powder they blew in their faces. It must be the powder that did this to him, and he is close to succumbing to its effect once more when he notices Spock strapped to a biobed on the other side of the room, awake and apparently agitated; his arms strain against their bonds, and his fists are clenched.
"Spock—" Jim tries to sit up, only to have Bones physically stop him with a hand on his sternum.
"Lie down, Jim. You're going to stay right in this bed and sleep until that damn drug is out of your system."
"No." Jim shakes his head to clear it, but to no avail; he's still affected by whatever that powder was. "Spock. What's—" And then his vision sways and tilts, and the sound of Bones's voice telling him to stay where he is and not do anything stupid fades into the distance.
I need to get back into writing this summer, so I'm going to use the tropes in the NSFW bingo I reblogged below as ficlet prompts. I mainly write Destiel; if there's another pairing or threesome you want to see, ask and I'll consider it.
Combine two of the following:
sex pollen
fuck or die
somnophilia
size difference
breeding
non-human
age gap
(pseudo)/ incest
BDSM/sub&dom
oral fixation
body worship
hate sex
sacrilege
necro (ghosties count)
illicit affair
porn star(s)
omegaverse
dirty talk
servitude
food play
voyeurism/exhibitionism
orgies/group sex
non/dubcon
loss of virginity
Just a heads up: I probably won't be able to start writing until June 5th.
I'm considering not accepting any more work than the deadlines I already have before my trip to London on December 13th, and maybe... Try to write?
I had a fic idea earlier today that kind of consumed my mind for a couple of hours. It's set in maybe the 40s? 50s? And Cas is living with his wife, Daphne, but there's something about the marriage that feels unfulfilling and almost fake. Daphne is a pious woman, while Cas has become unsure of his relationship with God. Daphne wants children, but Cas wants to hold off. It feels like he is living someone else's life (his house filled with chintz, for those of you who get that reference), not the life he is meant to live.
And then Dean Winchester moves into the house next door. Daphne initially hopes it will be a family or a couple moving in, so she can befriend the wife, and is disappointed to find that it is a bachelor who (in her opinion) should have settled down a long time ago.
She thinks she sees Dean kissing another man one night, and she tells Cas and asks him if they should report it to the police, but Cas convinces her that she might have been mistaken. Meanwhile, Cas finds Dean fascinating, and even more so after he learns that Dean might be attracted to men. He should find it disturbing, but instead he finds himself peeking out the window whenever Dean returns from a night on the town with a man in tow, never doing anything inappropriate, but walking just a little bit closer than most men would, and he can't help but wonder what happens behind Dean's walls once they're inside. (The men sometimes leave in the middle of the night, sometimes in the morning.)
Cas starts striking up conversations with Dean when they meet outside, and they become friends.
Cas and Daphne's relationship starts to deteriorate, especially with Cas refusing to try to conceive and drawing further and further away from Daphne.
They have a fight one night that ends with Cas leaving the house, and he knocks on Dean's door — only to borrow Dean's couch, he tells himself, but he ends up spilling his heart out in a way that leaves both him and Dean wondering what it is he really wants.
hey, were you able to check into the motel room i booked for you? we're on our way now. we’re coming to take you home
6:54 pm
I’M coming to take you home
Cas
6:59 pm
I’m at the motel right now.
7:01 pm
I don't understand. Is Sam with you or not?
Dean
7:03 pm
he’s here. that was just my crappy way of trying to say that i want you back home again with me
7:04 pm
me, specifically. i know i've sucked at telling you just how much i appreciate you, and i want to fix that
Cas
7:04 pm
That means a lot to me, Dean.
7:05 pm
Please don't text and drive. We’ll talk later.
Dean
7:05 pm
it’s cool, sam is driving
Cas
7:06 pm
Are you okay?
Dean
7:08 pm
better than i've been in a long time. why?
Cas
7:10 pm
Sam is driving. Do I really have to explain?
Dean
7:13 pm
i wanted to talk to you
Cas
7:15 pm
Is there anything specific you need to discuss? Should I call you?
Dean
7:22 pm
nah, i'd embarrass myself in front of sam. i just need to convince myself that you’re really back
7:24 pm
had too many dreams where you were back again only to wake up and find that you were still gone. and lucifer tricked me into thinking he was you
7:25 pm
you ARE you, right?
Cas
7:27 pm
I’m me, Dean.
Dean
7:30 pm
it's just hard to believe the spell actually worked. i thought there was no hope after Jack said he couldn't bring you back
7:32 pm
tell me something only you would know? i need to know i'm not getting tricked again. i don't think i could take it
7:33 pm
tell me what you said to me before the empty took you
Cas
7:35 pm
You're certain you want me to?
Dean
7:38 pm
i'm sure, cas
Cas
7:40 pm
I love you.
Dean
7:44 pm
like a friend?
Cas
7:46 pm
That, too. But I already had your friendship. Telling you I loved you like a friend wouldn’t have made the Empty come for me.
Dean
7:55 pm
then how do you love me, cas?
Cas
7:58 pm
Dean, you must know already. Please understand that I don’t want to cross your boundaries. I would rather remain your friend than have you push me away.
Dean
7:58 pm
i wouldn’t. i won’t
8:00 pm
i know i have in the past, but i’ve never regretted anything more in my life. please, i want to hear it if that’s okay
Cas
8:09 pm
Very well. I love you more than I have ever loved anything else in all of Creation. I have forsaken Heaven for you and died for you. I’m in love with you, Dean, and my love for you will continue for all of eternity, long after Earth and everything on it has perished.
8:17 pm
Dean?
8:21 pm
I have crossed a boundary. My apologies.
Dean
8:23 pm
shit. sorry. i thought i was prepared after last time
8:24 pm
no boundaries crossed, but you did make me bawl my eyes out again
8:24 pm
sam's all worried now
Cas
8:25 pm
I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t know my words would do that.
8:25 pm
What do you mean by 'again'?
Dean
8:27 pm
what do you think happens when your best friend tells you he loves you and then dies in front of you?
8:27 pm
not just a best friend, actually
Cas
8:29 pm
I know, Dean, and I am honored you consider me family.
Dean
8:30 pm
not quite. not only
8:31 pm
i should have told you, cas. you were never JUST family
8:32 pm
hang on, i'm realizing i need to tell sam something that’s kind of overdue by now. i guess he deserves to hear it after all these years. i’ll tell you after i’ve told him
Cas
8:33 pm
Very well. I’ll wait.
Dean
8:54 pm
okay well sam almost drove us into a ditch when i told him. and then he had to pull over because he turned into a giant blubbery mess
8:55 pm
if he ever says i did too, don’t listen to him
Cas
8:56 pm
Dean, if you are trying to build suspense, you have managed it.
Dean
9:00 pm
do you really not have any clue at all what i’m about to say to you?
Cas
9:02 pm
I would be lying if I said I haven’t spent the last 30 minutes imagining possibilities. But I would rather not assume. I don’t want to be wrong.
Dean
9:04 pm
okay. well, here goes
9:06 pm
i’m bi
9:06 pm
bisexual
9:10 pm
cas?
Cas
9:11 pm
I'm happy you trust me enough to tell me. Thank you.
9:12 pm
I’m just trying to process.
9:13 pm
Is there a specific reason you have chosen to say this now?
Dean
9:16 pm
actually, yeah. there’s something else i need to say to you, but i thought we could have that talk when i get there. i want to do it face to face
9:17 pm
maybe i'm getting ahead of myself here, but i’ve booked a single room for sam
9:22 pm
cas? processing again?
Cas
9:22 pm
Yes.
9:23 pm
My room does have a king-sized bed.
Dean
9:24 pm
i know
9:25 pm
i don't want to make you uncomfortable. i'll share sam’s room if you want
Cas
9:26 pm
Please don't.
9:26 pm
How soon can you be here?
Dean
9:27 pm
two more hours, if i switch places with granny behind the wheel here.
Cas
9:29 pm
I may be billions of years old, but right at this moment two hours feels like an eternity.
9:29 pm
I’ll be waiting for you, Dean.
Dean
9:30 pm
scratch that, i’ll make it in less than two hours
Cas
9:31 pm
Please don't compromise your safety.
Dean
9:32 pm
don't worry. i’ve got something worth staying alive for
Cas
9:32 pm
Dean. I love you.
Dean
9:33 pm
i know. be there as soon as i can. XOXO
Cas
9:36 pm
I had to google that. An emoji would have been more efficient. 💕
9:38 pm
I assume you’re driving. See you soon.
10:25 pm
Time has never passed so slowly before. I know that for a fact, since I have existed since the beginning of it.
10:42 pm
There’s a Dr. Sexy rerun on right now.
10:49 pm
The thing you need to tell me better not be that you have a crush on Dr. Sexy.
11:04 pm
You'll be here soon, unless something has happened.
11:06 pm
I hope nothing has happened.
Dean
11:09 pm
Dean told me to tell you to stop being ridiculous. But he’s smiling like a fool, so I think he’s secretly charmed by your rambling. -Sam
11:10 pm
He didn’t tell me to say that last part. He did tell me to say we’ll be there in ten. -Sam
Cas
11:11 pm
I will hold him to it.
11:20 pm
You’re not here yet.
Dean
11:20 pm
oh yeah? open the door
Cas
03:07 am
Your phone is on silent, so I know this text won’t wake you. I just want you to know this: I was wrong about my moment of true happiness. Lying here in bed with you, knowing that you love me back – this is the happiest I have ever been.
Dean
08:12 am
sappy angel
08:13 am
how about if i asked you to marry me? where'd that place you on the happiness scale?
Cas
08:13 am
Dean. Are you serious? Is this a proposal?
08:14
You better not be proposing to me via a text message from a motel bathroom.
Dean
08:15 am
relax, i wouldn't propose without going down on one of my creaky old-man knees. hang on, i'm coming out as soon as i've brushed my teeth
Cas
08:15 am
Dean, what are you saying?
08:17
You are the most frustrating man on Earth.
Dean
08:17 am
and yet somehow you love me
Dean
09:31 am
sammy, time to to start writing a best man speech
Sam
09:34 am
I know. My room is next to yours.
09:36 am
Out of the many sex noises I've heard from you over the years, "I can't wait to marry you" is the most wholesome.
09:37
Not that I need to hear it ever again.
Dean
09:40 am
bitch
Sam
09:40 am
Jerk.
09:41 am
Seriously, though. I'm happy for you both. And I'd be honored to be your best man.
Dean
09:42 am
thanks. love you, but don't let it get to your head. you're not the first person i've said that to today
Sam
09:44 am
Yeah, yeah. Love you too. Tell Cas congrats for me. When do you guys want to head back? Check-out is at 11.
09:57 am
Seriously? Again?? These walls are paper-thin, dude.
Day 5 of deancaskiss's drabble event (a bit late – I haven't had the time to do it until now)
Prompt: kiss
"Would you kiss me if I asked you to?"
Cas asked it in much the same way he would ask if Dean believed in aliens or the concept of a human soul; ever since they were kids, he would always get philosophical whenever they talked into the night.
"What, you planning on asking?" Dean joked weakly, uncertain of Cas's intent.
"If I did... Would you?"
"I guess it depends on why you were asking."
Cas's eyes glimmered with interest. "How so?"
Don't say it. If you say it, he'll know.
"I wouldn't want to do it if it was just an experiment."
"And if it wasn't?"
Dean's body flashed hot and then cold. "Is it?"
"I haven't asked yet."
Yet.
"But no, it wouldn't be an experiment."
Dean released the breath in his lungs. "What, then?"
