Burn It Down
Author's Note: More Weird West. Explicit slash with a dash of angst and domination. There is some mention of various plot events I have never written and I'm not sure I ever will. I tend to do this with stories, jump around to the scenes I want to write and screw everything else. Just ignore it and enjoy the porn.
There was no looking away, even though Castiel would have liked to. Dean stood bent over the steel bowl, his head bowed forward as he dragged the rag over the back of his neck, sending water running down his back, arms and shoulders. Blood, dirt and ash broke loose in the flow, revealing the tan skin underneath. All the evidence of the battle they had just fought was slowly disappearing. He knew it would be a lot longer before it faded from their minds, especially Dean's.
In the half light from the fireplace, the contours of the Gunslingers muscles were highlighted in deep shadow and slick wet light. Heat and excitement stirred low in his groin. Castiel desperately looked for a distraction in the small room but there was nothing to really occupy his eyes except the occasional nail sticking out from the wall. He folded his wings over his shoulders to hide his growing arousal. This was not the time for that.
"Cold?" Dean asked, ringing out the rag over his head and his face.
"Yes," Castiel lied. The small room was actually well heated by the small fireplace.
The Gunslinger snorted, "You suck at lying."
He shifted, wings rustling restlessly. He kept his eyes firmly on the wall and a bent, rusted nail. It was fairly obvious to him that the Gunslinger did not share his irrational feelings. Even if he did, this was not the time. Dean was probably still reeling from the news he had received about Sam and then the loss of his brother to the Mystics.
"What will you do now?" he asked, hoping to distract Dean with other things as well as distract himself.
Dean paused, rag halfway raised to his chest. Sam's amulet hung a few inches above the bundle of dirty cloth. Sam had worn that amulet every day of his life since he was four. It was a promise that Sam would return one day.
"There's talk of a wild spirit in a minin' town in Colorado. Gonna go check it out and put it down if it needs it," Dean said, taking a forceful swipe at the dirt on his chest which Castiel watched with interest out of the corner of his eye.
"You're going back to hunting?"
"Yup."
"On your own?"
"You see anyone else volunteerin'?"
The decision was made in a flash. Castiel didn't even think before answering. "I will come with."
"Bullshit." Dean threw the rag into the bowl, sending water splashing over the side. "You protected the Key, you're gonna pack up like the rest of 'em."
"I can't." Castiel opened his wings so Dean could see him gesture to his chest. "I am trapped. Unlike my brothers I am not free to come and go as I choose."
"So you're stickin' with me?"
He shrugged, "I have nowhere else to go."
"I thought you had a wife and kid."
"I believe my wife divorced me years ago. I have not seen either of them in years."
Dean snorted, "So you're a shit father too, huh?"
"I was Called, I had no choice," Castiel said, somewhat offended.
"You got a choice now, all locked up like that."
"I am not the man she would want back," Castiel sighed heavily. "That man died in Revelation."
"Yeah? So who are you now?"
Dean was suddenly much closer than Castiel remembered him being. He seemed to be larger, more intimidating cast in such heavy shadows and low light. He drew himself up, but was still a few inches shorter than the Gunslinger. He could spread his wings, but he was still using them for cover. He was trapped where he stood because if he backed up he would run into the small card table in the room and forward would be right into Dean.
But the question was a good one. With his lack of power and deep scars, he wasn't fully an Angel but the Light hadn't left him either. The battle he had just fought proved he was still dangerous, even suspended. He was a different being, something he could choose for himself. It was odd, but liberating as well.
"I am Cas," he said. "A bounty hunter."
Castiel suddenly found himself pushed back against the card table while his mouth was violently forced open by a demanding tongue. He didn't know what to do for a second, the attack was so sudden, surprise warring with a sudden roar of desire. He knew instantly whose lips were pressed against his, whose tongue was demanding interest and the desire won over easily.
He opened his mouth, tangled his tongue with Dean's as his whole body began to heat up. He didn't know what caused such a sudden, hungry reaction in the Gunslinger, but honestly he didn't care. The way it felt to want, to desire again was overwhelming to Castiel. He didn't care that his lungs were beginning to need air or that he was feeling dizzy, he wanted to keep kissing Dean.
The Gunslinger grabbed his wrists tight, shoving his hands down against the faded felt top of the table as he continued to ravish Castiel's mouth, his tongue so deep and twisting around his own. He tasted blood from Dean's split lip, smooth, clean water, and something earthy that was unmistakably Dean.
Dean pulled his wrists behind his back, holding both in one hand. Castiel tested the hold for a second, but Dean just gripped him tighter.
"No," he whispered harshly against his mouth. "You're mine."
The possession was obvious in Dean's tone. It sent an odd shiver down Castiel's spine and left him gasping for air. Did he want to be dominated by this man? Did he enjoy that? Dean ran a hand over the side of his face, his thumb pausing to brush over his lips before his hand settled on his throat. He held it there for a moment, Castiel could feel his pulse thundering against Dean's palm. He swallowed, a bit nervous suddenly but Dean's hand moved on.
He shifted, pressing his knee between his legs and the leaning his full weight into Castiel. He groaned to feel Dean's erection pressing into his hip. Dean grinned as his hand went lower, brushing a nipple as it passed down to Castiel's stomach and then the top of his jeans. His fingers, gifted with Gunslinger magic, made quick work of the snaps and then slipped underneath his boxers.
Castiel threw his head back, hips snapping up into Dean's hand as he wrapped his fingers, calloused and rough, around his growing erection and started stroking. His mouth fell open, sounds simply sliding out of his throat without thought or control. It was so good, every nerve of his on fire as Dean twisted and jerked his hand around his erection. Somewhere in the back of his mind, in the memories of his previous life he remembered how good sexual acts could be but it had been a long time and Castiel found them overwhelming now.
"Yeah, that's it, Angel, that's it." Dean's voice was deep, dark, close to his ear. He nosed it for a moment before his mouth closed around the lobe and sucked, sending Castiel into a hard shudder.
He pushed up into Dean's hand, desperate for more. These feelings were just too strong, too good for him to resist. He went pliant against Dean. This seemed to be exactly what the Gunslinger was waiting for. He released his wrist and slid a hand underneath the cheap cotton shirt he wore.
"How do you take this off with the wings?"
"It's immaterial," Castiel replied in a daze.
"The hell it is. I want it off, Cas."
He groaned, trying to focus his attention away from Dean's hand and his groin to answer Dean's question. "My wings can pass through fabrics and other lightweight material as if they didn't exist. It's immaterial."
"Always wondered that." Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and yanked it open. In a tangle of limbs, with Dean still stroking him, Castiel shrugged off the shirt and just as he said his wings passed through it like they weren't even there. The magic of the Light was quite versatile.
"I want to feel you," Castiel said as his shirt fell to the table behind him and Dean started pushing his jeans down his hips.
"Got your hands free now, go ahead." Dean flashed him a grin and gave his dick a particularly hard squeeze. Castiel shuddered in response, the pleasure weakening his knees. The table at his back helped keep him up, but he wasn't certain how long he could handle such feelings.
While he was still somewhat reasonably lucid, he reached for Dean's chest and ran his over his pectorals and biceps. Dean's skin seemed burning hot, similar to how Castiel was feeling on the inside. One touch and he wanted more. His hands went everywhere they could reach with no mind to what might be off limits. He felt a sense of ownership, that Dean was his to touch and only his. It was strange but not uncomfortable.
"Turn around." Dean's words were sudden and surprising, punctuated with a rough pull on his cock.
"Dean…"
"Turn. Around." The words were darker down, clearly an order. Castiel was still torn between obeying and continuing his exploration of Dean's body with his hands. He obeyed in the end, his years as an Angel had created in him a desire to obey, to follow orders and serve.
"Bend over, hands on the table," Dean said, his voice still dark and commanding. Again, Castiel did as ordered, splaying his hands over the faded felt top of the table to hold him up as he bent over.
Dean ran his hands up from his hips, over his hands and then over his wing joints. Castiel flexed the muscles in his wings, the nerves around the joints were very sensitive, but Dean's hands didn't linger. His hands went back down and he slid two fingers between the crack of his ass.
Castiel gasped, his head dropping forward as one finger traced over the puckered ring of muscle there. No one, not even in his previous life, had ever touched him there. It surprised him that he shivered in response, his hips twitching back for more instead of away. He liked it, his body told him, and it wanted more.
Dean whispered a word of magic and something cold and slippery began to drip around his hole. He knew it was oil, but for a moment he couldn't think of why Dean would need that then he felt one slick finger pushed pass the ring of muscle and into his ass.
He moved away instinctively, but Dean pressed his thighs tight to the back of Castiel's to trap them between his and the table edge.
"No," Dean whispered, leaning over his back as he worked his fingers slowly in and out of his ass. "You're gonna need this. Gonna need me."
He didn't know what to do. The feeling of something inside him was foreign, confusing but Dean still played a finger around the puckered ring which he liked. He wanted to pull away, he wanted to push back. He whimpered, wings opening and closing slightly as he struggled with the conflicting emotions. They were so strong, so new.
"Ah!" He threw his head back, eyes wide, back arched as Dean added a second finger and started twisting them inside him.
Dean wrapped an arm around his stomach, holding him tight against his chest as he pushed and stretched with his fingers. Then Dean found something inside him that made him cry out again and push back. It felt like being struck with lightning, only infinitely more pleasurable. He wanted it again, now.
"Yeah, that's it Angel, that's it." Dean pressed the spot again, every time Castiel pushed back into his fingers he was rewarded with another press and another bolt of pleasure.
He felt himself getting lost, carried away in each rising wave of heat and need. He remembered there was a pinnacle to this act. Soon, he'd release and be completely taken over by it but not yet. He still needed more and more he got.
Dean pulled his fingers free, leaving Castiel feeling empty but it didn't last. He was filled again, quickly, by something thicker, hotter, harder than Dean's fingers. He cried out, wings extended to the ceiling, when he realized that Dean had penetrated him with his cock.
"Like that, don't you?" Dean growled in his ear, putting a hand on the back of his neck and pushing forward, closer to the tabletop. He bent lower and felt Dean sink deeper in him. "Tell me you want me to fuck you, Angel."
"Dean," he gasped, his fingers scrambling against the smooth felt for a hold, something to anchor him against Dean's body and his words.
"Say it." Dean was pressed fully against him, fully in him and absolutely still.
Castiel tried to move, but he was pinned against the table and Dean's body. The only thing he could do was move his wings uselessly. There was nothing he could push off of with them, no way to bend them back and get Dean moving. He snapped them down in frustration, which just made Dean laugh.
"Say it," Dean cajouled, letting him up just enough to get a hand between them and brush his fingers over his cock.
"Fuck me," Castiel gasped, desperately jerking towards Dean's hand. "Please Dean, fuck me."
"God Cas."
Something snapped in Dean with those words. He did as Castiel asked and fucked him, hard. He braced his hands on the table, wings out instinctively searching for balance as Dean thrust into him over and over without pause. It hurt, he wasn't used to it, but he liked it. God forgive him, he liked how Dean was using his body, what Dean was making him feel. The conflict between the pain, the pleasure and the feel of Dean's body in him and surrounding him burned through him. It tore at him and filled him, all the places the Light had left empty since his entrapment were full again, replaced with the feelings this man, this Gunslinger made him feel.
The finale when it came choked him. He tried to scream into the green felt underneath him, wings thrown as wide as he could get them in the small room and came with Dean still thrusting away.
"Mine," Dean whispered harshly against his ear, gripping his hips tight as he plowed into Castiel over and over and over. "You're my Angel."
He groaned in response, his head bowed forward because he knew that Dean's words were probably true. As he had once belonged to the Light, now he belonged to this man. Dazed and desperate for oxygen, Castiel realized dully that Dean was still, hot spurts of come were filling him and his hips were still aching where Dean was holding on. The Gunslinger slumped over him, heavy, sweaty and hot. They both lay there on the card table, catching their breath.
Castiel was sore, painfully in some places but still floating in a haze of pleasure. Dean eventually propped himself up and pulled out, placing a kiss at the back of his neck. He shivered at the sign of affection, arching his neck in a silent entirety for more.
"Yeah, yeah, we ain't done," Dean whispered, running a hand down his side, light, easy. "We're far from done."