Title: Cardinal Sin
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Genre: AU
Warnings: Dub-con, priest breaking vows
Disclaimer: Not my characters.
Summary: A wealthy Dean is constantly donating and giving to a small church, what no one knows is what he does to the young priest Castiel, who cannot deny the other man. Dean never meant for the sex to happen but can't give it up.
The loud electronic scream of something digital was going off.
Again.
Dean groaned in his bed and pulled the plush pillow closer to his face as his arm reached out and fumbled around for the stupid thing. He only managed to knock it to the floor because god hated him and was punishing him.
Bleary eyed he raised himself from the warmth of a well slept in bed and hauled himself over the edge to grab the still ringing phone.
"…One day Sammy," he growled into the phone. "One glorious freaking day," he muttered as he rolled onto his back, rubbing his face and accepting that he had to wake up now.
"Says you. What are little brothers for if not early wake up calls?" Of course the bastard sounded awake and disgustingly cheerful, of course.
"I'm up," Dean grumbled and before his brother could make some cheeky reply he hung up. Sliding from the warm bed with the freezing sensation of his bare feet on the floor to greet him, he fumbled to the bathroom for a quick shower. Dean was dressed and halfway through breakfast when his cell phone went off again. Easily he flipped it open and greeted his mother, promising to hurry and not be a second late.
True to that promise Dean showed up to the church and met his parents and little brother in the parking lot.
"I'm still in awe," Sam smirked with laughing eyes and Dean speared him a dirty look.
"Shut it, promised mom," was his curt reply, a smooth smile sent over to his mother and she smiled back at him fondly.
"And I really appreciate it too, it's been so long since we were all here," there was a happy note in her voice that had all three men in her life grinning, Mary undoubtedly had them wrapped around her finger, not that they complained.
"Nothing to do with bright eyes?" Sam whispered lowly for only Dean to hear as they walked to the old doors of the church. The elder brother shoved his sibling easily and played it off with a roll of his eyes. Sometimes Dean wondered how Sam would react to an inkling of the truth. For certain his parents would get that disappointed look in their eyes, but would Sam just be disappointed or outright pissed?
These were the usual questions that loomed in his conscious when they walked under the old archway of the stone church. The guilt would only build up, but for all his good graces and upstanding notions Dean still jumped eagerly into his dirty secret every single chance he got.
Father Castiel greeted the congregation alongside Father Uriel with a smile plastered on. Often Uriel berated him for seeming too unemotional so Castiel at times tired to force his cheer. The people were very kind to him as the newest member of the church. After two months now, he was beginning to settle into his new home.
A couple unexpected twists and turns of course, or more so just one, or rather person if he was being honest with himself. That familiar deep voice carried over others and Castiel knew to expect the Winchesters as they approached. The kind parents who where regulars for years along with their youngest son, and then the elder son who only recently began showing up. With forced pleasantness he smothered any other emotions down and shook each hand warmly. Castiel for all his praying to his father could not deny that the second his skin touched Dean Winchester's hand he felt the familiar curling in his stomach.
"How goes the praying?" Came the casual question from Dean, laced with humor as Mary Winchester tisked good-naturedly at her son.
"Just fine," Castiel answered back with a bright smile, trying to stay perfectly calm even as those hazel eyes slid over to him, there was no dark stirring or silent threat there, just a hint of warmth and the normal spark of light. Castiel laid awake plenty of nights trying to fit Dean into a dark role, to make him into the monster he must be but he always came back to the genuine good that radiated off the other man.
"Good to hear," he finally replied with a smirk and before either of them could say anything Dean's brother had an arm around him and was tugging Dean along, laughter in his eyes as he nodded to Castiel. Replying with a slightly confused smile, he turned to greet the next family, he had never figured out Samuel or his odd behavior.
"You have it so bad, for a priest no less!" Sam snickered, his voice low again so only Dean could hear and he glared at his younger brother furiously, feeling his neck flushing.
"This from the guy who took nearly two years to work up the courage to ask his girlfriend out?" Was his quick reply, the brother falling into bickering as they took their seats in the pews until their mother hushed them.
The sermon began quickly enough and Dean sat though silently, he no longer fidgeted like he used to. Now he found it easiest to sit down, zone out and figure out some business plans and ideas from work that needed to be thought-out.
Sam would keep him up to date, when to jump up and when to shake hands and every other silly ritual they went through. After a while he picked up the little signs himself and knew when to come back to reality for a moment.
Either way he made it through the sermon and was standing up, stretching his legs as his family made their good byes to the people around them. Dean politely smiled and made small talk with faces he recognized. It was all about hierarchy he thought, a political standing to a good deal of the people, but then there was another good sized chunk who just believed in showing up every Sunday and praying for good things. Thankfully his parents, his mother more so, believed in the latter. John Winchester and his sons showed up in church because Mary Winchester expected it of them. Well Sammy showed up more on his own in the later days Dean supposed. Leaning against the worn wood pew he watched people chattering and planning bake sales and other cliché events.
"Made it though another sermon did you boy?" The solid tone had Dean standing up straight before he even realized he was doing it. Father Uriel was a large black man who seemed more fit to be in the mob then have anything to do with the clergy.
"Somehow," Dean shot back with a cheeky grin. Uriel had been the head of their church for ages now, since Dean's teen years. The two had never really seen eye to eye but Dean knew better to argue with a priest, no way his mother would not see it has blasphemy on high, even if he had a point.
"Good for you, hope yet maybe," Uriel replied easily and somehow that tone irked the teenager buried in Dean and he had to resist the urge to make a snarky comment in turn.
"Sure," he gritted back with a politely forced merriment, making the man watching him raise a brow.
"Surprising Winchester, you really have grown up a little."
Bite me.
Giving a curt nod, Dean glanced around, looking for an out before he lost it. Damn this holier than thou priest could wind him up like it was no ones business.
"Anyway," Father Uriel added, a sudden hesitation in his tone making Dean pause and look back to the older man. Hesitation meant he was going to say something he did not want to, which meant only good things for Dean.
"You've been generous of late with your giving, and it is appreciated," each word was forced out and Dean swallowed a grin, as much as it annoyed Uriel to give him of all people any gratitude Dean knew he did not have to really acknowledge the giving.
Father Uriel was utterly aggravating but he was a good priest, he really was actually trying to live for god. Dean wished he could be even half as righteous, that he was not faced with the slap of guilt he was currently experiencing.
"No trouble, got the money so why not, this place is worth it," it was awkward as hell but Dean stood there and accepted Uriel's nod of agreement. Immediately he was so grateful for mothers when he felt the familiar delicate hand on his back as his mother came to stand beside him, her arm looping through his own.
"I always told you my boy was a good one, a little rowdy but still a good boy," Mary smiled brightly, her tone not quite a 'I told you so' but pretty close. Dean couldn't stop the grin this time because damn his little sweet mother was awesome.
The small talk dragged on before his parents said their final goodbyes, Dean promised to be at their home at five sharp for dinner and Sam assured them he'd make sure Dean was on time.
"You'd think I'm late for everything," Dean muttered and his father smiled and nodded his head knowingly at that.
"They just don't get the idea of living in the moment," John conspired with Dean and he grinned in turn, watching his mother and little brother share matching nasty faces.
"Alright, alright," Dean said with a bark of laughter, his hands up in surrender as he backed away, with quick goodbyes he turned from his family and re-entered the church. Avoiding the lingering churchgoers he slipped into the adjacent building and walked down the still hallways.
Even as he walked he felt himself getting restless, the tight excitement strumming through him with the knowledge of what was about to occur. He turned the corner and caught sight of Father Castiel, leaning on the doorframe of the backdoor that was propped open to let the good weather in. Dean had a full view of his profile, the other man's head tipped up towards the sun with his eyes closed, taking in a calm moment for himself. The church add-on led into a garden area that was well cared for and Dean stopped, taking a moment to simply watch Castiel with scenic garden all around him.
There were no traces of fear or resignation on the younger man's face. Studying him carefully he found nothing to make him feel that father Castiel was unhappy or apprehensive and the man knew Dean was going to come looking for him, he always did. There was nothing obvious to justify the sharp gnawing feeling inside Dean, always present. But he knew that what he was doing was so wrong, so obscene that his family would be deeply ashamed and that he himself felt it.
With Dean staring intently at him it wasn't a surprise when he felt the weight of his gaze and those blue eyes opened to meet his gaze. The smaller man tensed up a touch and stood from his perch against the door.
"Hello Dean," he greeted calmly, his tone giving nothing away, it never did and that frustrated Dean to no end. He desperately wanted to break that calm, to find out what made up the other man's core.
"Cas." The nickname always seemed to get a twitch out of the priest and Dean felt a measure of smugness. Blue eyes flashed sharp for a second before Castiel was moving, walking from the door to the small office in the back corner with Dean close behind. The room was pilled with too many papers and endless stacked boxes on shelves, cluttered and messy, like this… thing was. Dean watched Castiel step into the privacy willingly before following.
"Still working away?" Dean snorted, noting a small corner looked neater at least, Father Uriel and paper work did not go together at all.
"It will take time," Castiel replied his tone low, always low. Leaning back Dean pushed the door closed softly, but the click of the lock seemed too loud in such a still room. There was a row of yellow stain glass windows high along the one wall. Narrow, frosted and not made to open they kept the rooms secrets well but also cast a golden light.
It gave these meetings a surreal feeling, an edge of disillusion to the reality of the situation. Stepping closer to the man still facing away Dean rested his hand on the priest's slender back, spreading his hand flat against the warm fabric. There was a tension there but no refusal as he easily slid his arm around the other man, resting his hand over his heart, feeling the beating rhythm. Resting his brow against the nape of his Castiel's neck, Dean closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed in the smell that was other man. Sometimes he forgot the game, forgot that he was wicked and dirty, soiling a good man.
He liked those moments best.
But reality would eventually slither back into place. Dean's hand shifted and slid along the fabric of the priest uniform to tug at the collar and undo the buttons there. Pressing himself against the warm body, Dean's other hand slid under Castiel's arm and he quickly undid the coat and undershirt, parting them. Warm skin greeted his fingers as he ran his hand palm flat against the bare chest. Castiel was young for a priest, brand new to his vows, he felt innocent to Dean and maybe that was part of the allure. The smaller form of the man was delicate, small wrists and a narrow neck, he felt breakable. There should have been more guilt he though distantly, more shame now then afterwards. Yet it never bothered him when he held Castiel.
Dropping his hand down passed the man's belt, he groped the priest through his trousers and listened to him take a sharp breath. Alternating between squeezing and rubbing Dean kept the man pressed against his chest, his chin on his shoulder as he pressed lazy kisses on the exposed neck.
"Cas," he breathed, pressing himself snug against the priest's backside and grinding lewdly.
"Wanna fuck you." Dean said softly, giving the smaller man a rough squeeze and feeling him jerk in response. The erection under his hand was rapidly stiffening and Dean felt endless satisfaction in knowing Castiel enjoyed these meetings, if only in body.
"Gonna fuck you."
Lazily he dragged his tongue along the slender neck, tasted the faint salt of his skin and bit down softly, sucking at the base of his neck, where the collar would hide later. Castiel answered with a muffled sound, strangled and swallow as his hips lifted to press against Dean's hand.
Nearly every night Castiel prayed to god for the strength to pull away, but in the actual moment he never could. Sometimes he could convince himself that he was letting this happen because of Dean's generous donations, the large sums of money were desperately needed. The truth however always came out in the heat of the moment. For all his supposed good intentions when Dean's hands touched him he knew without a doubt he let this happen because he wanted it.
God help him, he wanted, lusted for Dean Winchester.
Praying not to, asking god to help never worked and Castiel was not strong enough to deny this. Dean's hand was undoing his pants, slipping under his briefs to wrap around his erection. Swallowing a moan Castiel shut his eyes tight and focused on the sensation, the calloused texture on Dean's hand and the way his grip was gentle but firm. Fingers wrapped around the length of him and pulled lazily, sliding along the heated flesh. Dean's thumb rubbed along the tip and spread the moisture there, the feeling of the touch making him shove his hips before he could stop himself.
A warm chuckle sounded in his ear and he felt Dean's wet mouth brushing his neck.
"Easy Cas, no rush," that deep voice teased lightly and he felt the arm thrown across his chest pulling him back against the other man a bit tighter. Turning his head, Castiel rested his face against Dean's shoulder and made no reply. A warm huff of breath rushed along his neck where Dean had been sucking and the sensation on the hyper sensitive skin made him swallow hard.
God help him.
Dean kept stroking him lazily, his hand moving up and down in sinfully delicious motions. When Dean let go for a moment to spit into his palm, Castiel looked away but felt himself flush. The base act was lewd but it made the motions easier as Dean snaked his hand back into the priest's pants. The touch came again with wet saliva and Dean stroked him easier now, moving quicker as he bit off a groan. Castiel hated it, hated that something dirty was exciting to him, that in the nights between their meetings he would spit in his own hand just to feel it again when he touched himself, when he imagined this man.
"Dean," the name fell from him mouth unintentionally, a benediction as much a damnation. He heard the man behind him groan in reply and felt the erection digging into his backside before Dean pulled his hand from Castiel's trousers and spun him around to face him.
The kiss was hard and wicked, Dean domineering but Castiel answered with equal passion. When Dean parted his lips Castiel yielded and then he was sucking on Dean's tongue. Feeling the man push him back he stumbled and hit the office desk and Dean quickly lifted him to sit on the edge, never breaking away from Castiel's mouth, cupping the back of his neck to hold Castiel close.
Gripping the edge of the desk tightly, Castiel moaned when Dean stepped in closer and pushed his legs apart. With strong hands around his thighs, Dean dragged him closer to the edge. The two men were pressed up against one another as tightly as they could, Castiel clinging desperately while Dean seemed so much more in control.
The rough kiss parted slowly, both breathing a bit hard. Dean tilted his head to give light nips on the smaller man's chin and throat, moving lower to suck at the junction of his neck and shoulder again.
Trying to stay quiet became increasingly harder for the priest as the other man's hands slipped under his open shirt, running over skin in lazy motions. A rough bite on his collarbone made Castiel suck in a sudden breath and he looked down, freezing when Dean was staring back at him, inches away, they watched one another, both gaze dark. Castiel's eyes hungry but shy and shamed while Dean's spoke of wicked intent, promised satisfaction for the sin.
Dropping lower, Dean pressed a kiss on Castiel's bare chest and abdomen, nimble fingers undoing his belt and getting Castiel naked from the waist down in sure quick motions.
It was wrong and he knew it, so wrong to do this but Castiel made no protest, just watched with wide eyes as the other man wrapped his mouth around the tip of his erection. Sucking the pre-come there and flicking his tongue over the sensitive head, making the priest cover his own mouth to muffle the obscene noise he couldn't stop from coming. Amused eyes met his own briefly before Dean sucked him down in one smooth movement.
Closing his eyes tight again, Castiel tried to get some semblance of control but god forgive him, Dean's mouth was hot, wet, and oh so good. Before the priest could even understand it, his fingers were tangled in Dean's short hair, his hips jerking up in tight motions as he whimpered and just tried to breath.
Castiel had never really been sexual active before, he had once been so absolutely sure his lack of interest in women meant he was meant for the cloth of a priest. It seemed stupid now, after the first time Dean touched him, left him debauched and laid out over the desk, shaking with his knew found desires and all the sin they carried. And when Dean took the time to sooth him, help him redress and muttered reassurances that he wouldn't tell anyone Castiel knew he desired Dean beyond mere flesh. Maybe that's what made this so bad, that is wasn't just his body giving in to the other man's charming smiles.
Dean's hand curled around him at the base and began to stroke what he could not fit in his mouth, saliva and white smears mixing and making the motions slick. Pulling the priest free from his mouth, Dean blew ever so softly on the erection in his hand and it twitched in answer as Castiel let out a whimper. He watched as the flat of Dean's tongue slid along the head of his pulsing cock and underneath as he sucked him down again. This time Castiel was shoving into his sucking mouth at once. The pressure was building and his body felt good, so good, Castiel couldn't think clearly, lost in the sensation of what Dean was doing to him.
Slapping a hand to his mouth he shut his eyes tightly and groaned as he came. The steady throbbing that ran through him rising up to consume in glorious pleasure. Without missing a beat or slowing his rhythm Dean swallowed most of it down. A strand of saliva and semen slipping down his lip even he kept sucking and stroking while Castiel came down from his high.
Sitting back on his heels Dean let the softening length slip from his mouth and he looked up. Castiel stared back at him, ashamed but unable to not look at the man's swollen lips or the mess on his chin. The filthy proof of this dirty thing inside him that Castiel knew should disgust him but only made the fading pleasure pulse back to life again.
Wide blue eyes stared down at him and the priest looked lost, utterly gone as he fixated on Dean's mouth. Running his tongue over his lip he sat up, leaving the floor as he stood between the other man's spread thighs again. Castiel's gaze followed him, jumping to lock on his own eyes and then skidding back to his mouth as Dean leaned in. The priest made a low sound in his throat when they kissed again, the spit and come on his chin pressing to the other man's skin. He thrust his tongue into parted lips and rubbed the taste of come on the priest's tongue, made him taste himself. For a second Castiel seemed to resist and then his body melted of tension and was pressing against him eagerly. Legs coming up to wrap around his hips, hands slipped around his shoulders, and mouth pressed back, welcoming Dean. This what undid him, made him come back for more, when the lust made everything else fall away, for a short time Dean wasn't currently corrupting in the worst ways, seducing an innocent man for his own pleasure. They were just two people enjoying one another with enthusiasm.
Still kissing the man as if he was trying to steal his very breath, Dean fumbled quickly with his own pants, getting the buckle undone and the stupid thing out of the way. Reaching into his inside coat pocked he fished out a hand lotion bottle filled with lubricant.
Castiel broke the kiss and gasped when Dean pushed a finger into him unceremoniously, made him tip his hips up. Wrapping a hand to grope Castiel's ass, he lifted him a bit to get a better angle to finger him. Castiel put a hand behind him and obediently leaned back, letting Dean pull him close to the edge of the desk do he had better access to his body. When Dean pushed to his knuckle the priest hissed out and lifted away, tried to escape but Dean made soothing sounds even as he pressed on Castiel's hip, made him sink down on his finger. Devouring every wince and swallowed protest, Dean worked him open, added a second finger and he pressed them as deep as he could, feeling the familiar heat he looked forward to all week long. Smearing the lube on his hand he fingered Castiel and made sure he was well prepared, steady worked him open until he took three fingers with barely a sound of protest. Castiel's cheek rested on Dean's shoulder, one arm thrown over his broad shoulder, as he let Dean touch him, pervert him.
"Gonna do it," he warned the priest in a pant and Castiel was nodding his head, already getting lost again as he pushed back on Dean's fingers. Fumbling, he nearly dropped the stupid bottle in his rush but he managed to slick himself up. Tugging Castiel closer to the edge he wrapped an arm around his thigh while the priest's arms snaked around his shoulders, his face hiding in Dean's shirt.
Closing his eyes, Dean sucked in a calming breath, trying to steady himself a bit as he was ready to explode already. He needed to get himself in control or he would regret rushing the best part of his week.
Taking hold of himself, he guided his cock to he pressed in slowly, feeling the smaller man tense up as he forced his way into his body. The first few times slipped away, the lube making everything slippery but Dean persisted, pressed the head of his dick against the tight hole and forced his way inside. The hands on his back clutched the material of his coat tightly and Castiel made a weak noise. Dean wrapped both arms around him and pressed his face into his short hair.
"It's good Cas, you're doing fine, just relax for me," Dean coaxed and pushed up a bit more, sinking another few inches in and hearing a groan fight from his own mouth.
"Just a bit more," he encouraged, pulling the man to meet him as he gripped Castiel's thighs and pulled them higher on his hips, made the angle just right to sink in that last inch. Muttering soft words over and over he began to rock his hips, trying not to lose it straight away. The priest held onto him for dear life and he gripped him back just as hard, their bodies rubbing back and forth as they moved in tight short motions. The desk creaked ever so slightly but Dean couldn't care less then, he was buried in his blue-eyed priest and he could die happy, waltz into hell with a pleasant smile.
When Castiel's hold loosened a bit, let him know the pain was receding; Dean began to move easier, using some of his weight as he began to fuck the priest earnestly. Castiel muffled soft sounds in Dean's shirt but lifted himself, meeting Dean's motions and wringing a groan from him.
"That's it," Dean hissed, grabbing at the slender body and yanking him into each shove as he felt a bead of sweat trickle down his face. The room was too hot now and it seemed far too still, their breathing so loud in the space accompanied by the occasional creak of the desk under Castiel, the wet slick sound as Dean pushed home into him.
Pulling away a bit, he kept thrusting into the priest and watched his face, gazing down at blue eyes that stared back. They looked so innocent even then, too wide and insecure even as they were hazy with lust. It should have been shaming not exciting to Dean but the sight just made him slam himself even harsher just to see the expression on Castiel's face. The priest still had a death grip on Dean's coat and he held on as he arched himself from the desk and Dean swore. Slamming hard, he moved with less rhythm and more need. The finish line was in sight, he could feel it reaching out, a few more deep thrusts was all he needed.
The knock on the door was like ice water on Castiel's skin, the pleasure was ripped away and utter fear poured in. At once he tried to push Dean away but the other man ignored him, hips still driving.
Shaking his head furiously, Castiel shoved harder not daring to make a sound as he heard Father Uriel call out for him. This could not be happening, it just couldn't he thought furiously. Swallowing when he felt the man inside him release, buried to the hilt inside him. A few last hard thrusts and he was grinding his hips, vice like hands holding Castiel in place while he spilled inside in, stained his body.
It was dirty, so filthy and wrong to do this, to violate his oaths and to do so in his own church. Biting back a whimper he stared at the door, could see the shadow of Father Uriel's feet underneath shift before they moved off, walking away. Had he heard them? Did he know what was going on?
As soon as Dean's grip loosened, Castiel shoved him away slipping from the desk and nearly falling, he was shaking all over.
"Sorry!" Dean whispered face flushed red as he tucked himself back in his pants and glanced at the door. " I didn't mean too…" he trailed off unsurely and just watched Castiel fumble to drag his own pants back on, trying to ignore the slick sensation of the other man's come running down his thigh. His fingers shook too badly to get the button done up and Dean stepped in close, reaching to help and he recoiled immediately.
"Why do you do this?" Castiel hissed, eyes wide and terrified as he stared at him, desperately looking for an easy answer.
"Why do you do this to me? Why can't you leave me alone? " All the priest could think about was whether or not Father Uriel had heard them, god forgive him, it was bad enough to give in to the lust he felt but to have some he respected and admired know it…
"I hate this," he hissed, covering his face with his hands he tried to get himself under control, to stop the trembling rolling through hid body. Leaning against the desk, he sank down to the floor, willing the shame and humiliation to leave him.
"I…I'm sorry," Dean's voice was quiet in the silence, it seemed smaller than ever before and Castiel could hear him shift from foot to foot uncertainly.
"I'll go now, I never meant to do this to you, I swear it, Cas," the words were awkwardly forced, tentative and useless to the priest. Dean wasn't the problem, it was his own weak flesh, his own failure to live up to his oaths that had him shaking so hard. The lock clicked quietly and when Castiel looked up he only caught the back of Dean's shoulder as he slipped from the room, turning the knob to make sure it was still locked. The priest watched his shadow disappear from under the door, walking the opposite direction Father Uriel had taken. As he realized too late that his words had been misinterpreted.
