This was originally written for a Blindfold_Spn kink meme challenge over on livejournal, set in the very angsty future AU of 2014. I liked it so much, it is now its own 'verse. Basically just an excuse to write lots and lots of gratuitous porn, but a plot snuck in there somewhere!

Reviews are love!

"No, stay." Dean tells Castiel as he is about to go 'mobilize the grunts' for their attack on Lucifer. Risa can do it herself for all Dean cares - they'll be ready one way or another, and right now, he has other plans for Cas. The confused angel does exactly as he says, sinking back into the chair he'd occupied at their meeting only moments before. Then, "Leave us," He tells everyone else, closing and locking the door behind him, so now it's just him and his angel, the way it should be.

"Dean, what - ?" Castiel starts to ask him, but Dean isn't having that. He picks up the colt from the table and holds it to his own lips in a gesture for Cas to be silent.

"Do you see this?" Dean asks him, holding the gun out, stroking a hand along it. He's going to kill Lucifer with this gun. Hell, with this gun, he's invincible and it's a power trip just to hold it. "This gun can kill anything Cas, even you - even angels, and god knows you're no angel any more, are you?"

Cas may be a bit inebriated still, but he can still pick up on the cues that Dean is giving him. His harsh tone, the sadistic glint in his eyes, they're reserved for only one person and that's Castiel. The angel swallows thickly, leaning back in his chair. He's terrified of Dean when he gets like this, goes into one of his moods, and Dean knows it. Uses it, in fact.

He swaggers up to the angel, not stopping until he's standing directly between Castiel's knees. Laughs, as he raises the gun and Castiel goes cross-eyed trying to keep it in his sight before Dean runs it gently along the side of his face, making him shudder. He knows his angel is scared - of the gun, of him even. That's the best part.

Dean is getting hard in his jeans as he brings the gun down to circle Castiel's heart, the angel letting out a miserable whine of protest that goes easily ignored. "What Cas?" Dean asks him mockingly, "Don't you trust me?"

No, is the first thing that comes to Castiel's mind, but he chokes it back. He does trust Dean - trusts him with his life - but it's a little hard to remember that right now when he's about a second away from potentially taking that life. Still, he breathes out a shaky "yes" because if he doesn't, then Dean might just kill him.

"Good." And then abruptly he's moving on yet again, stroking Castiel's crotch with the tip of the gun absentmindedly as he continues thoughtfully, "You know, we never did test whether this gun would work on an angel Cas," and the angel in question has never felt so exposed sitting in a fucking chair before. He's trembling with the effort of trying to keep still, because if he moves, Dean might shoot.

Just as suddenly though, Dean changes tactics, pulling the gun away. "Kneel." He commands Cas, and the angel is really too terrified to do anything but obey. He slides bonelessly off of the chair, puddling at Dean's feet, so close that he can feel Dean's denim-clad hard on pressed against his face. His eyes are prickling, and he's about to cry from the relief of not having that godawful gun pointed at him anymore. He looks up at Dean, trying to convey his gratitude, and Dean laughs.

That sends a shiver down Castiel's spine faster than anything, the fear rushing right back and dripping obviously from his eyelashes, because Dean still has that hard, hungry look to him and now he's pointing the gun right at Castiel's forehead.

"Dean, please," The angel sobs, wishing he would just snap out of it, please! There are tears running down his face, and his breath is catching in his throat as he implores his first lover not to kill him. Dimly he's trying to figure it out - why is this happening? Does Dean not want him, not need him anymore? "Please, I'll stop whatever," Castiel begs, "I'll stop the orgies, the drugs, I'll train harder, anything Dean,"

He's silenced by the click of the hammer being pulled back. Dean - God - help me, save me please! Castiel shuts his eyes tightly, hoping that doing so will make it all go away. Or whatever, but he can't keep his eyes open for this. His entire body is trembling and he can't control it, and he's fighting the impulse to reach out and hug himself to Dean's strong legs like maybe that will make this nightmare stop, or at least ground him some, because right now Cas is dizzy and sick, about to pass out, or throw up, or maybe even piss his pants. Because terrified doesn't even cover it anymore.

"Open." All of a sudden, there's cold metal being pressed against Castiel's lips - the tip of the gun, but he does what Dean commands him to all the same, wondering why Dean has to play with him before he kills his angel because he can't take it.

"Suck on it," Dean continues in his dark, dominating tone, and Castiel does without question. He draws the gun into his mouth and sucks on the barrel like Dean told him to. Maybe, hopefully, it will please Dean - Cas will please Dean.

"Oh yeah Cas," Dean moans, and the angel dares to open his eyes for the first time, seeing Dean's eyes on him almost feverishly, stroking himself through his jeans as he watches. "Like it's me babe," He breathes, and this is some sick joke, but Castiel can't help but starting to feel hopeful, just a little bit, returning to the task at hand with as much energy as he can muster.

It's not long before Dean drops his pants. He's gone commando, of course. It's a bit distracting, and Castiel's mouth is watering at the sight of Dean's hard cock. He wants to take it in his mouth so badly, wants to make Dean feel good like only he really knows how, just wants to please him. But Dean hasn't told him that he can, and there is still a gun in his mouth. A gun that can kill him, as Dean had pointed out.

As if realizing that he's been distracted, Dean jabs the gun further into the back of Castiel's throat, making him gag, and the sight definitely caught on the roof of his mouth, because now it hurts something awful and Cas can taste his own blood. Dean doesn't notice, or doesn't care, but either way, Cas returns his attentions to the gun, trying to pretend that it's really Dean and trying to forget how the safety is off and one little brush of that trigger and he's dead.

Finally, Dean comes with a load groan of "Cas," painting the angels face with ropes of cum that mingle with his tears. There's a click from the gun, and Castiel flinches, unable to help it, whimpering pitifully. But it's just Dean putting the safety back on.

Castiel watches from his position on the floor as Dean tucks himself back into his jeans, slipping the colt into his jacket. The angel has never felt so worn out, so utterly exhausted and sore in his life, still trembling from all of the adrenaline running through his system. He's still a bit dizzy, maybe even more so, and feels like he might pass out at any minute, but Dean won't even look at him.

"Clean yourself up and meet us by the trucks," Dean commands finally, facing the door, "We leave in ten." Then he leaves, the door swinging shut behind him with a loud bang that makes Castiel filch again. But he's alone, and there's no gun in sight. He's covered with the very reminder of his lover - Dean's cum all over his face - and yet Cas has never felt so used, so alone, so empty.