I don't know what this is I don't know what this is I don't know what this is.
my Faerie lore is completely half-assed and this just came out of me and it is 5:21 am.
Warnings: dubcon
The boy comes by everyday now. Castiel perches silently in the same tree, on the same branch and has come to wait for it. To wait for the young human to come loping into his clearing. As a child of the Faerie, Castiel should remove the boy immediately. He should take his knife in hand and descend upon the human. He should feast on his flesh and hang his bones amongst the tree to warn intrepid humans from ever coming there again.
Castiel doesn't do any of this. Instead he merely watches. The boy never does anything more than come to small spring that runs parallel through Castiel's clearing. On some days he drinks from it. On others, he bathes. Those days are Castiel's favorites. The boy is beautiful. Young and golden, made of supple muscles that make Castiel's mouth water. It is not a hunger to eat him that inspires this. There is also a frustration that comes with these days that is beyond the simple fact Castiel cannot touch the boy. No, the boy never removes all his clothing. Choosing to keep on the same thin tunic and hide-pants despite splashing water over his head and across his shoulders.
It is hard to understand why the boy comes. There is nothing to be gained from it. Castiel knows there are plenty of springs just as fresh and beautiful as his own outside of the Forest. And surely, there are other humans from this boy's village aware of the idiocy of coming into the Forest alone.
Yet, day after day the boy comes. Sometimes the boy just sits and stares into the tree line. Castiel is sure that the boy never looks his way. He has taken advantage of it on many occasions and has crept close, belly flat on the dry Earth as he slithers through the grass to get a closer look. The boy is very handsome up close. More so than Castiel could have ever of imagined. He never sees more than the boy's profile, though, and never tries for more.
That is, until one day in late spring. Summer is close and it is obvious in the way the air buzzes with heat and anticipation. Sprouts stretch higher towards the sun, eager to grown large and flourish in the coming warmth. Castiel feels the anticipation sing through his veins. He can hear the cries of the trees and the flowers and his fellow Faerie as they eagerly sing for the change in season. It is a heady beat, going straight to Castiel's head and making him almost drunk on it.
There is something else in the air. Castiel can sense it. A change in fate of some kind that hangs over his clearing. His heart races and the boy appears from behind the trees opposite to where Castiel is hidden. Every muscle in Castiel's frame becomes still, coils tight as realization overcomes him and so with it comes desire.
Desire for this boy who is wearing that same white shirt and those same brown briches. He watches as the boy walks across Castiel's grass and to the spring where he sits down on the bank and stretches his legs out. Castiel's heart soars and joins in the chorus of the Forest. He knows what he wants now. He wants this boy.
Castiel drops from the branch. His descent is silent and the ground rushes up to greet him like an old friend. The Earth is warm and relenting under his feet, guiding him quietly across the clearing. The boy is up now. Castiel isn't sure what he is doing. It looks like he is just standing and staring again. Castiel smirks and crouches low. He is very close the boy, Castiel can smell him now.
He wastes no more time with the scent though-it is a familiar one now. One he smelled for the first time many nights ago. Castiel wants more now. He rises from the grass and reaches, grabbing the boy by the wrist and spinning him around. The boy's red mouth is a wide circle of surprise. Castiel doesn't let him get over the shock and pounces, bringing them both into the Earth. The spring water splashes around the boy's broad shoulders and a grunt of pain falls from that mouth.
"I've got you," Castiel taunts and the boys stares up at him. His eyes are wide and they are green, so much more green than Castiel could have ever anticipated. They are rich but not like that of leaves or emerald jewels. No, more like moss on old trees rich and abundant and life amongst death.
The boy's breath is coming hard and fast. Castiel can feel the expansion of his ribs between his thighs, a constant tempo that makes the desire swell in him again. He sits back on the boy's thighs and watches. Watches as the boy's breathing slowly settles but Castiel can still feel the racing of his heart, he watches as those eyes slowly become less alarmed and more weary. Castiel waits. Waits for the boy to calm.
When he has, Castiel moves quick. He can see the boy begin to prepare to fight Castiel off. As Castiel suddenly swoops down so they are nose to nose, the boy seizes and becomes tense beneath Castiel. They grapple then but briefly. Castiel is narrow and willowy but he is full of much more strength than any average human. This boy isn't average, Castiel is coming to realize this, but he still wins. He still ends up pushing both of the boy's wrists into the mud.
"I've got you," Castiel repeats and it earns, of all things, a huff of laughter from the boy. Castiel's eyes narrow and he sinks his teeth into the flesh of the boy's cheek. The laughter turns into a cry of shocked pain.
This is what Castiel should desire. He should desire to eat the boy. He should want to feast upon him and, as Castiel pulls away and licks his lips clean, the boy tastes delicious enough that it would be quite the feast. However, Castiel doesn't desire to eat him. He desire so much more. He wishes to keep this boy.
Castiel ducks down and presses his nose against the boy's neck and inhales deeply. The aroma is so much more satisfying at the source. He had only learnt of it crouched so far away in the grass. Now he could breathe it in deep. Taking in the smell as if it were some sort of aphrodisiac.
"What's your name, boy?" Castiel growled and bit at the boy's neck. He had appearances to keep up here. He didn't want the human to know Castiel didn't want to eat him. The boy shuddered under him and it was half fear and half...something else.
"Dean," the boy-no, Dean says and his voice causes Castiel to hum aloud in appreciation. The shudder rolls through Dean again and Castiel sits up, feels the stirring beneath his bottom-the obvious hardening.
"Dean," Castiel says just to feel that shudder again. He bites into Dean's neck and it is so much better now that there is a name to this flesh. Castiel sits back slightly. He looks Dean in the eye and then slowly trails his eyes down to Dean's chest. Castiel still isn't sure what he wants to do with the boy but he has ideas...especially when his eyes land on that damned tunic. It is stained with the mud they are sitting in now and clinging to the skin Castiel has only ever been able to imagine. He is sick of imagining.
Castiel rips the offending fabric off the boy, watches as Dean's eyes track the shirt's descent behind Castiel. He makes a sound then, deep in his throat, that spurns Castiel into movement. Castiel drops his head to Dean's stomach, inhaling the musky scent he finds there. It is just as sweet as the one cloying against Dean's neck but so much richer, deeper. Dean makes another noise and this time Castiel can feel it against his cheek.
It is as wonderful as the smells coming off of Dean and Castiel savors it, enjoys every little gasp as his teeth nip at Dean's flesh, moving up his chest at a slow pace. It drives Dean mad, Castiel can tell. Castiel considers eating Dean again. He has never desired to taste human flesh but this boy is so sweet Castiel seriously considers it but then-his eye catches on an imperfection on Dean, a spot of deep dark black on his skin and he sits back, ramrod straight.
There, just on Dean's clavicle, is the sign of a Hunter. Castiel's vision narrows and Dean tenses under him, sensing the change in Castiel immediately. They're suddenly rolling then as Dean fights him off, pushing Castiel into the soft Earth and Castiel pushes back. There isn't a connection of fists or malice, just a fight to get apart or stay together-Castiel forgets until he springs away.
He crouches, knees hovering above the ground, as he breathes heavy breaths and watches as Dean's chest does the same, the sounds the boy makes much harsher in the quiet. Castiel rears back and tears his eyes away from the mark-the stain on the boy. "Hunter," he hisses through his teeth. Castiel may not have teeth like a pixie razor sharp and needle like or those of a wolf-child but is just as effective without them. Dean flinches back but only slightly. He's still just a boy, hunter or not. Castiel is back on him in an instant.
Dean bucks wildly, fighting against the hands gripping his wrists and then Castiel flips him over, pressing his chest into the mud. He grips both of Dean's wrists together with one hand and then Castiel bends over him, gripping fingers tight into ashen hair, and pulling Dean's head back. "I should kill you," Castiel hisses again, teeth against Dean's ear. Dean bucks again but barely upsets Castiel's hold-strengthens it, even. "How dare you come around here, you do not belong."
"Wanted to," Dean mumbled and Castiel jerked his head, pulling Dean's neck back further. Dean groaned but didn't buck this time.
"Louder, speak louder," Castiel ordered and this time his mouth was against that bared throat. He tasted it again. It was almost sweeter with fear-almost. Fear had never been much of Castiel's flavor though.
"I wanted to," Dean repeated but this time it was loud and honest. Castiel sat back slightly. He shouldn't be surprised at this. Humans were constantly curious to pure stupidity when they came into the Forest. It often cost them their lives. Dean though...Dean was a Hunter. He was marked as one. Earning a mark amongst human Hunters was a high honor, they didn't just give it to anyone.
Castiel licks his lips and looks around, searching for any source to bring Dean to this particular clearing and this particular stream. There is not much. This is Castiel's small patch of territory. He had fought for it many centuries ago and had to defend it many time since. Rarely did a human come through and on those brief occasions, Castiel had merely tricked them to the more dangerous areas of the Forest where he didn't have to deal with them. Never once had Castiel been seen by them though. Never once had he given them any incentive to tell tales of his land for any potential riches. In fact, hunting Castiel as a mere Faerie wouldn't be a Hunter priority, let alone one of honor. Dean's presence was beyond baffling.
"Why," Castiel finds himself saying. He stares dead ahead at the tree he had perched in for every day Dean had visited in the past cycle. Nearly a month he had watched. Had Dean seen him somehow? Impossible...
Silence stretches between them. There is a distant hum of grasshoppers in the next clearing over. It is a trap set up by the Goll who lives there to attract birds. Castiel waits for Dean's answer. It is coming to slowly so he twists Dean's wrists and yanks him over, perching on the boy's thighs-recreating their earlier positions.
Dean stares up at him with his moss-eyes. They are not afraid anymore. Something inside Castiel flares to life. He can see them. Golden flecks nestled around Dean's iris. Hints of Faerie grown deep in the boy. Castiel's breath speeds up again, against his will.
"I wanted to see you," Dean finally answers and Castiel understands.