Hell, Kings Court
"So where do we start?" Dean asked downing his drink with little appreciation for the well-aged beverage watching Crowley.
The man made a face at Dean's treatment of his prized scotch before focusing his attention back on Dean.
"Yes well, that is the question." He mused seemingly lost in thought. "That night, why did you take the human's deal?" Crowley asked curious his eyes narrowed he was searching for something in his expression but Dean couldn't be sure what.
Dean shrugged holding the glass towards Crowley tapping it. Trusting Crowley in the past had always been a bit hazardous, Crowley was the master at manipulation Dean had to watch and wait his and Crowley's interest in this weren't mutually exclusive. The other demon scowled but complied taking another liquor from his stash and pouring it into his glass. Dean sniffed it carefully, it was still scotch only of a lesser quality.
"I recognized him." Dean replied simply deciding that the truth was harmless. "I was in the area looking for Abaddon, I saw him at the crossroad, and I recognized him."
"From the visions?" Crowley asked but it was less of a question and more reaffirming what he had already surmised. Dean nodded.
"You do realize he is dangerous?" Crowley asked
Dean frowned, it wasn't like the human was capable of hurting him.
"The man is the thread." Crowley emphasized "Pick at it too much and the whole thing unravels."
Crowley's words had the impact that he intended Dean frowned. When he took the human he originally only intended to keep him prisoner but after that kiss his mind had strayed to other possible occupations for the man. He wouldn't be the first demon to do it, keep a sex slave. Only if he could get the priest to agree to it of course. He had two rules when it came to sex… ok three rules. Dean Winchester didn't do cash for ass, he didn't rape. He never had to force someone to fuck him as a human and being a demon hadn't changed that, and he didn't do nipple clamps. His nipples were perky enough as it was. Now Crowley was squashing those dreams. It was just as well, he liked keeping himself free of attachments and the Padre looked like the type he'd want to take his time with.
"Where are you keeping him?" Crowley asked cautiously "At my place." Dean informed him there was gonna be no question that. Castiel was safe and sound at his place but there was no way he was letting Crowley take him. Whether Crowley understood the threat or not was left to be seen but he nodded.
"Good, keep him there and interact with him as little as possible until we figure this out, you two obviously have some connection in the other timeline, but with connections like this it isn't always positive, he could be your friend, enemy, lover or your bloody brother we don't know."
Dean nodded solemnly Crowley's words boiled down to one thing for him, he couldn't trust the priest, for the moment he seemed like he was unaware of their connection, and it was entirely possible as a human he was unable to sense it, but he couldn't be sure.
"Inside hell he is outside time, by taking him you've changed things further and it's only a matter of time before we see the effects,"
"And what are you gonna do?" Dean asked suspiciously
"I..." Crowley asserted gesturing to himself with a generous smile.
"…will interrogate Samandrial on the matter." Crowley continued Dean nodded
Dean turned to leave when Crowley called out to him
"And for hell's sake keep it in your pants."
Limbo
Castiel was surprised when Dean's wolfish smile suddenly vanished.
"Anyway, this room already taken Padre, try the one down the hall." He replied firmly his sudden change of mood unexpected and once the words were spoken he pivoted and left him simply staring into the space where he once stood. Castiel wasn't sure how to continue. He needed to remember the person before him wasn't human. He could not expect it to act like one. It was a monster playing at civility. He needed to remember that, he glanced around the room again the careful order did not mean that the demon actually cared for any of these objects. Castiel was projecting his feelings towards the demon. His yearning for a home, and family. The demon could simply like having his things readily available.
Castiel grabbed his bag where he had left it sitting in the door way and moved towards another room down the hall.
This room was identical to the last one except the personal touches. This room was available. Castiel gently set out his meager belongings. He wasn't used to decadence and somehow the simplicity of the lodgings helped soothe a part of him. He was still the same penitent man that he was when he made this deal, if a little worn for the wear. For a brief moment he felt intense longing for home. His church, the gardens out back where the honey bees flitted between flowers, it made his heart ache. Yet he could easily push back the yearning he could picture the children imagine them with long fulfilling lives and be at peace.
Crossroads, Louisiana July 29th, 1950
Castiel was surrounded by dusty old volumes, motes of dust floated in the air around him. He sat on the floor there were no tables in the basement only several bookshelves filled to the brim. His knees were drawn up to his chest as he rested a particularly heavy tome against them. The volume depicted a ritual on demon summoning. It was all there, spelled out on the page. Ingredients, herbs to boost the potency, where to make deals. It was possible, but was he the type of man to sell his soul for an idea? The church it offered hope, and a home to many people in need.
He stood surprised to find that he joints ached and his stomach felt surprisingly empty. It seemed that he had spent most of the morning in his research. His neck ached slightly from its constant downward angle he rubbed at it absently with his hand trying to ease the tension. He wondered if Balthazar had finished his chores, more likely the man left as soon as his back was turned. Castiel felt himself smile. There was a genuine fondness there for man, sometimes it felt like he had known him for most of his life rather than just a few years.
Castiel made his way out of the basement back into the upper levels of the church. There was much he needed to do today. Tomorrow was Sunday and there was much to prepare for, and yet he found himself at a loss for inspiration.
He was running out of time as a priest, soon he would have to give up his position at this church and while he was sure he would find a new home something felt final. Like once he left this church it would be the end of things for him, he knew it wasn't true but he couldn't fight the ominous feeling.
Limbo
Dean couldn't stop long enough to gather his senses it would have been a sign of weakness so he kept moving even though every fiber of his being urged him to go back and fuck the angel. Dean was a base creature at heart, when he wanted food he ate, when he was thirsty he drank, when he wanted sex he got it, but he knew better than to stick his dick in a hornet's nest. Castiel was a hornet's nest. As fun as it would be to teach the Priest a thing or two about sin, it wouldn't be worth it in the end.
Dean didn't know anything else about the other timeline except that he was human and Castiel was an angel. That could mean any number of things. Maybe the man was a vessel or maybe something changed and he fell and became human, either way getting too involved with him was a bad idea or at least that was what he kept telling his hard on. At least until they had more information. That was why whenever his dick went down Dean was headed towards the dungeon. It wasn't a dungeon in the fun sense of the word, but more a dank empty windowless cell. The Enochian runes painted along the door and the inner walls were designed to ward against angels. Not that they often visited hell, but Dean imagined that they might make an exception for his prisoner. Dean was going to the source. In his visions Castiel was an angel, so they needed to talk to an angel. He didn't want to rely solely on Crowley for information.
While Dean didn't have access to an angel, like Crowley did he had the next best thing. An ex-vessel, it was his trump card, his leverage against Crowley. Crowley had the first blade and Dean… well Dean had Lucifer's vessel. Vessel's retained some on the memories of whoever possessed them, possession went both ways. The angel or demon had access to the human's thoughts and if the human was strong enough they could touch the possessors mind.
Dean stared at the man in the cell. There was a swirling of something there that might have been an emotion if not for all the demonic blood flowing through him. The man was tall even prone on the bed Dean knew him to be much taller than himself. His time imprisoned had withered away some of his strength, he was thin, not quite the thinness of a sickly person who could never gain strength but more the constant burn of someone with the starved energy of a drug addict constantly on the prowl for their next fix. Dean opened the door. The hinges wailed in protest. The man sat up his feet hitting the ground and he turned towards him. Dean had to be careful how close he got, the man while weak was still capable of hurting him.
"Hiya Sam." Dean called out. Sam only narrowed his eyes to scowl at him. He was hungry, and was doing everything in his power not to fling himself to the other side of the room and try to rip open his throat with this teeth. The chain around his left ankle would probably stop him, but the self-control was interesting. Dean wasn't sure he would resist the urge if he was as hungry as Sam.
"How you doing?" Dean asked casually checking his condition with his eyes, examining for injuries or weapons.
"Does it matter?" Sam asked his tone bordered on disillusioned, Dean smiled he really did like the kid's spunk.
"Not really." He replied honestly a shiver of something went through Sam he bent his head avoiding Dean's eyes. Sam was fighting himself, the man was always fighting himself.
"What did I do to get the pleasure of your company?" Sam asked through clenched teeth, his words were saturated with sarcasm.
"I've got some questions for you." Dean stated watching him.
Sam clenched his fists into the sheets of his bed and looked away from Dean again before laughing bitterly the sound was so world-weary it almost didn't qualify as laughter.
"About Lucifer?" he scoffed. "I've told you everything… he didn't let me in much." His voice was hesitant, quiet, broken, something about the tone bothered Dean.
"Except when he killed people, he liked making me watch." He finished desolately
"Not about Lucifer," Dean began "About something else." the feeble hope in his eyes was surprising.
"Dean?" he asked quietly his tone was pleading.
Dean knew he wouldn't really get anything from him until he gave him what he wanted.
Dean tossed Sam the silver flask, it hit the bed beside him. He pounced his hands shaking as he struggled to open the cap. He tipped the contents into his outstretched palm, the dark red liquid slowly oozed out of the container coating his hand he brought it too his mouth an ecstatic look on his face.
"Fresh from the tap." Dean called out tapping his forearm.
After he tipped over the container several more times until it was empty and he had licked his palm clean he raised his blood smeared face towards Dean again.
He sat up straighter squaring his shoulders, he was no longer shaking and the pitiful querulous tone of his voice had vanished.
"Why do you do this to me?" He demanded resentment plain on his face.
"Keep me here, keep me addicted?"
"What feed you? Take care of you?" He asked with a grin.
"What are brothers for?" Dean scorned
Sam's hand flew out towards him and psychic wind whipped around him.
"You don't have enough juice for that Sam." Dean said quietly, the anger in Sam's eyes oddly bothered him.
The headache came from nowhere, the pressure was intense it started behind his eyes and spread until it felt like his skull was trying to push its way out of his skin.
He nearly collapsed because of the pain, he fell to one knee his arm clenching onto the door frame for support. Sam leapt to his feet, and moved towards him at first Dean thought Sam had more juice that he let on and this was the end Sam was killing him, the same way he killed Lilith. Then his eyes watered and he blinked away the tears to see another scene entirely.
It was a hotel room. The air smelled clean and perfumed, but also like sex. Scented candles and sweat. It was the honeymoon suite.
He watched as a dark haired brunette woman flee the room, the seething hatred he felt for her astounded him, he didn't recognize her from behind, and yet he knew she was a demon.
His gaze moved back towards his brother only now it wasn't apathy or begrudging respect he felt for him, but a deep familial love, he would die for him, or kill for him and he had done both.
"She's poison, Sam." He felt himself insisting trying desperately to get his brother to see the truth.
"It's not what you think, Dean." Sam maintained his expression tired exasperation
"Look what she did to you." He asserted his arm out indicating everything before him, the pain in his voice surprised him. Dean was human again in this vision and the pain wasn't physical it was an emotional torrent he was worried for Sam, and he was afraid he was losing him.
"I mean, she up and vanishes weeks at a time, leaves you cracking out for another hit" as he spoke he moved his hands trying to make Sam see.
"She was looking for Lilith." Sam continued slight anger showing on his face he trusted her and was upset Dean didn't.
Now he was the one that was becoming exasperated. It was like talking to a brick wall Sam just wouldn't listen to reason.
"That is French for manipulating your ass ten ways from Sunday." Dean continued indignantly
"You're wrong, Dean." Sam continued his voice elevated.
"Sam, you're lying to yourself." He insisted again stepping forward hoping his sincerity would be enough to sway his brother.
"I just want you to be okay. You would do the same for me. You know you would." He continued resolutely. His heart ached not in a physical way but in a profoundly sad way. It hoped that he could save his brother make him see the truth and yet Sam continued trying to change his mind.
"Just listen." Sam began again one hand outstretched in supplication trying to calm him but the other still clutched Ruby's knife, he looked down almost as if he hadn't realized the knife was still there, before tossing it on the bed.
"Just listen for a second. We got a lead on a demon close to Lilith. Come with us, Dean. We'll do this together." It all sounded dull in his ears he could barely focus on the words.
"That sounds great. As long as it's you and me. Demon bitch is a deal-breaker. You kiss her goodbye, we can go right now." And he meant it. He would do anything for his brother fight any battle at his side.
"I can't." the dependency was obvious he just wished he could make Sam see it.
He turned away, nodding to himself. That was it then, was Sammy beyond saving? He rubbed his face trying to fight the tears. He wouldn't give up, he couldn't not on Sammy.
"Dean, I need her to help me kill Lilith. I know you can't wrap your head around it, but maybe one day you'll understand. I'm the only one who can do this, Dean."
He turned back around slowly.
"No, you're not the one who's gonna do this." His voice nearly quavered
"Right, that's right, I forgot. The angels think it's you." The disbelief and scorn rolled off his words.
"You don't think I can?" he demanded surprised.
"No. You can't. You're not strong enough." Sam was right he wasn't strong enough, but not for what Sam was talking about, he could ice that bitch Lilith in a heartbeat he wasn't worried, about that. What he couldn't do was kill his brother.
His father said he might have to one day, but only if he couldn't save him, and Dean knew he would always save him.
"And who the hell are you?" he demanded.
"I'm being practical here. I'm doing what needs to be done."
"Yeah? You're not gonna do a single damn thing." He was surprised by his resolve, if he had his way Sammy wouldn't have to do anything Dean could take the burden on himself. The demon blood it was changing his brother.
"Stop bossing me around Dean!" the quick flash of anger was easily mastered
"Look. My whole life, you take the wheel, you call the shots, and I trust you because you are my brother. Now I'm asking you, for once, trust me."
"No. You don't know what you're doing, Sam."
"Yes, I do." He persisted inflexibly
"Then that's worse!" He shouted the words slipping out before he could think them through.
"Why? Look, I'm telling you…"
"Because it's not something that you're doing, it's what you are! It means…"
Dean cut himself off as he saw the pain in his brother's face.
"What?" at first Sam was confused he didn't know what he meant and Dean hoped with all his being that the other shoe wouldn't drop and he wouldn't understand, but his hope was in vain.
"No. Say it." Sam ordered tears shimmering in his eyes.
"It means you're a monster." He finished irresolutely still not believing his words his brother was not beyond saving, a tear slid down his face, but Sam didn't see it since his own face was turned away. Then Sammy clocked him.
"Dean," the voice was serious possibly worried, but he was having trouble focusing. "Dean!" it shouted again urgently. He opened his eyes. To see his brother's bloody face peering down at him, he was shaking him.
When Dean opened his eyes he took several steps back. It was then Dean realized he had collapsed and fallen into Sam's cell. Dean sat up gradually. Something wet trickled down over his jaw. He raised a hand it came back red with his blood. His nose was bleeding.
It had felt so real. That conversation had never happened between him and Sam. After Lilith killed him, he hadn't seen Sam again until after the apocalypse and at that point Lucifer was the one calling the shots.
"What happened?" Sam demanded concern tinged his tone. Dean stood slowly, backing away from his brother. He was lucky he had fed Sam before he fell, he had seen the man slice a demon and drain them getting this close before.
"None of your business." Dean insisted resting his hand on the door frame as he tried to pitch forward his vision spinning, nausea overwhelmed him and he retched. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and he fought dry heaves.
"How long was I out?" he demanded still turned away from Sam. He could hear his brother stand by the rattle of the chain.
He couldn't look at him. It made him angry, at himself. How could he do this to Sam?
"Ten minutes, or so." Sam said quietly Dean nodded. When Crowley said there would be side effects of pulling Castiel out of time he had said that more visions of the other timeline might be one of them. What he hadn't said was that they might hit him like a Mack Truck.
"Did I do anything weird while I was out Sammy?" he asked his whole body ached it felt like he had been ridden hard and put up wet and not in the fun way.
"What did you say?" Sam asked a strange quaver in his voice.
"Did I do anything while I was out?"
"No," he said dismissively obviously more interested in something else. "Did you call me Sammy?"
Dean frowned his head hurt too much to put up with his brother's puzzling behavior he didn't know what had gotten into him.
"It's your name isn't it?" he mused. Sam chuckled darkly.
"Yeah, but you haven't called me that since before you went to hell."
Dean made his way out of the dungeon he had slammed the door in Sam's face and left. He couldn't think about that vison about the alternative universe. The mark was making itself known. He could hear the high pitch drone that meant it was hungry. It wanted blood. It had been weeks since he had killed anyone and the mark burned. It had been hungry before but the vison and his turbulent emotions made it ravenous. He covered it with his palm pressing it into his arm trying to make the sharp ache disappear. He knew that he should ask Crowley. The man would have a target for him, the list of people Crowley wanted dead was a mile long and yet the idea didn't sit well with him. The killing had never bothered him before, what was happening to him?
He needed to feed the mark, if he couldn't do so with murder he needed another form of sin and darkness.
Dean needed to get laid he decided. No he needed to get drunk, spectacularly stupendously drunk and go screw his brains out in the nearest warm body. That would let him forget these freaky visons and the alternative universes and the entire shit storm that was reeking holy havoc on his emotions. Unfortunately his little black book was fill of mostly burned bridges. He was wracking his brain trying to think of a casual fuck, the human angel was the closest warm body that wasn't a blood relation but that went back to putting his dick in a honest nest which turned out to be a bad idea. That meant that he needed to find someone who would fuck him with as little baggage as possible. That meant someone demonic, while he could always try to go to earth for a hook up. Bars and barflies didn't really exist in this post-apocalyptic world so that limited his options.
Mentally he tried to run through his list of available demons who wouldn't gut him on sight that would also fuck him.
It was a short list. He hadn't exactly won friends and influenced people as a knight of hell. People were jealous and the rest of them scared.
Lately he had been hooking up with a crossroads demon named Jeannette, but that had ended messy. When she found him in bed with Ona another crossroads demon. It probably would have ended a bit better if he hadn't suggested it become a three-way. Demons these days since when did hell get so prudish?
He pulled out his phone scrolling through his contacts. His hands were shaking the mark was eating him alive. His stomach swirled threatening to empty its contents again.
He paused on a name. Brady. Tyson Brady. Once upon a time a Lucifer loyalist, he quickly defected to Crowley's side when Lucifer left for Heaven. He was quick witted enough to realize that Luci wasn't come back and if he did it would be to wipe them out.
Dean tried to picture them fucking in his head. They had fucked in the past when they had the occasion to work with each other. Fast furtive angry sex for the most part. He liked the man well enough he was confidant, thorough and knowledgeable something he liked in a bed partner. He was also a bit of a brat, a manipulating brown nosing little fuck. Ok maybe he didn't really like the guy, but he liked him enough.
The only question was would Brady be down for it? Last time Brady had ended it with a 'don't you ever fucking call me again.' Dean couldn't really remember why. Yet he felt like maybe he could talk him into it.
There really was only one way to test his theory.
Dean pressed the call button after a few rings he answered.
"Brady speaking." Curt and to the point.
"Hi this is Dean." He didn't bother to add his last name there wasn't very many demons Brady would mistake him for. He didn't respond for several beats.
"How's your brother?" he asked casually.
Dean felt a weird churning in his gut again he had forgotten that Brady knew Sam
When he didn't respond Brady continued
"Well, down to business, then. What can I do for you?"
"Actually, it's about what I can do for you."
"Really?" the interest Dean had hopped for was there.
"Yeah I wasn't thinking that maybe you and I could let off a little steam together."
The silence on the other end made Dean figured he'd guessed wrong about Brady until he finally answered.
"Your place or mine?"
A crash woke Castiel from a restless sleep. Part of him thought better than venturing out to investigate. He was a stranger in a strange land, who knew what dangers might lie beyond the doorway. Another crash forced his hand. Slowly he stood and made his way out into the hallway. He had not meant to fall asleep he had simply lain down and he fallen asleep exhausted. The past few days had been a strain on him. He had barely slept and he doubted he would get much sleep in hell.
He was still not familiar with the layout of his new residence, but he recalled that the crashing he heard had come from the direction of the library. He slowly crept in that direction. He wasn't sure what prompted his caution it was late if the clock on the nightstand was accurate it was after midnight. The lights that illuminated the hallway were just dim rectangles set high on both sides of the wall, rather than the bright overhead light from before.
"Leave it!" he heard Dean order and he nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden sound.
His voice was twisted darker headier than normal. He heard another male voice make a sound that only could be described as a strangled moan. The sound shot straight down to his cock.
Castiel realized before he rounded the corner what he would see if he decided to throw caution to the wind. Sex. Part of him knew he should turn back. That he was a man of god sworn to resist the temptations of the flesh and that sex between men was an even greater sin, and yet.
He couldn't see it, but he could hear, the heavy breathing and gratified groans and wonder what he might see.
He didn't always top, he wasn't always demanding, and he didn't always use his physical strength against someone to the edge of pain but when the mark called to him he bordered on dangerous.
Dean had to admit he wasn't sure how quickly Brady arrived. When the mark crept up on him like this he lost control of rational thought. It was an excuse but not a completely unfounded one. He did know that he had drunk a quarter of a fresh bottle of scotch, by the time he arrived so that helped place in perspective his speedy arrival.
Dean was usually a careful lover, he liked to stoke and tease his partner to pleasure and revel in their ecstatic moans. He wasn't above sucking cock for half an hour just tease his partner till their balls tightened on the edge of cumming enjoying the way the shaft felt against his lips as he encircled the head in lazy sweeps of his tongue.
Except tonight he didn't have the time. Dean sat on a table in the library. One leg idly propped up on the chair the other on the floor a bottle of scotch on the table a glass in his hand. He had shed the burgundy over shirt he wore black t-shirt and jeans. He also had a bottle of lube tucked in his pocket. Knowing that the likelihood of him making it to the bedroom was low. The mark had him achingly hard against the fly of his jeans. Every minute rub of the rough denim stoked the flames of his need. If Brady didn't get here soon sticking his dick in a hornets nest was starting to look like a better option than dying because the mark.
Brady appeared in the library, Dean had set it as a landing zone of sorts anyone trying to teleport into his domain would wind up here, weather they wanted to or not.
"Hi." Dean called out waiting. He wanted to pounce Brady to use him as a willing fuck slave until he was spent and the mark was sated, but part of that included willing and he needed to know before the rest of his mind was gone that he wasn't going to rape the man.
Brady was hard. Dean could see the outline of his throbbing cock it spoiled the line of his tailored black slacks. He knew that what happened between them wasn't loving sex. It was hard and fast and rough. Normally it was what Brady liked about him. However he looked warily towards him.
"I have to be crazy to do this again after last time." He murmured to himself, and yet as he said the words he yanked at his tie and removed it before also shucking his suit jacket. The white shirt made his golden hair seem fairer than the black suit jacket. Dean had turned off the overhead lighting leaving just the wall sconces and the lamps on the table for light. It was dim but not dark.
"Can't so no to great sex." Dean said with a smile.
"It's not the sex that worries me." He insisted glancing at the mark. Dean wished that he could remember what happened last time they had sex but it was right after he received the mark and honestly the early days where kind of a blur. The mark had been constantly hungry then and it took maybe two months or more before he was able to really gain any semblance of control over the mark.
"Are you sure you wanna do this?" Dean asked not sure how else to phrase his request. Brady over all people knew what the mark did to him.
Rather than answer Brady begun to slowly unbutton his white dress shirt, presenting a light dusting of blonde curls. Brady was lean not as chiseled a he himself was, but Dean knew the feeling of his taunt muscles.
"Limits?" Dean asked. Trying to decide if he should continue but knowing the fucking mark would kill him if he didn't. He downed his glass and poured another as Brady carefully removed his slacks as well and laid them neatly folded on the table across from Dean.
"No breaking skin, no limiting my movements, no choking." He listed the items with deliberation.
They had discussed other hard and soft limits on other occasions Dean knew what Brady would never allow he simply wanted to know what was acceptable for tonight.
Dean nodded. "No foreplay." He added
Brady laughed "I took care of some of that before I arrived." He insisted.
He was in his boxers. Dean realized that he was a bit behind he pulled his shirt over his head. Brady feasted his eyes hungrily across the expanse of his chest.
"Anything else?" Dean asked. He knew his voice had grown tighter the need the make filled him with was intense.
"Try not to kill me." Brady muttered quietly. So quietly Dean almost wondered if he said it.
Brady stepped forward Dean kissed him grabbing the base of his skull pulling on the small hairs at the nape of his neck Brady hissed into his mouth and gently rocked against him. Brady had masochistic tendencies. Dean quickly grew impaitent with kissing the mark urging him to burry himself into a willing body.
Brady reached for his cock and Dean growled pulling him away. The mark demanded control, if Brady touched him Dean knew he would lose what little grip over the mark he maintained.
"No touching." He barked out not caring if Brady understood the command.
"More for me." Was all he replied.
Dean reached his hand inside the waistband of Brady's black boxers and skimmed along the length of the other man's cock starting at the base open palm just teasing but when Dean reached the head and felt moisture on his slick slit he knew he couldn't really hold back any longer.
He wrapped a firm hand around him and began to furiously pump his hand along the length of the other man's shaft. Brady moaned against him, his head thrown back in pleasure the long column of his neck exposed. Dean gently bit at the exposed flesh the first bite just a slight scrape against the skin, the second he timed with a downward stoke of Brady's cock biting into the flesh not hard enough to break skin but hard enough that Brady gasped in pain and pleasure all at once.
Dean's hand framed one of Brady's ass cheeks gently molding it with his hand using the pressure to press him forward into his hand. His fingertips skimmed the crevice and felt heated metal.
It was then Dean realized what Brady had meant when he said he had taken care of some of the foreplay.
Dean spun Brady forcing him to bend over the library table. Knocking the bottle of scotch and the nearest of the two lamps on this table to the ground.
He roughly yanked the boxers downward tired of their hindrance and anxious to see the display that Brady would give him.
The base of the butt plug was a silver circle nestled between the taunt cheeks of Brady's ass.
The sight aroused him further. As he pictured Brady reaching around fingering his own ass as he stroked his cock preparing himself to be fucked hard and fast by Dean, before sliding the anal plug in and out of his hole moaning.
Brady turned slightly back towards him to remove the plug.
"Leave it!" Dean barked out and Brady's hand disappeared.
Dean playfully smacked the silver disk causing a strangled moan of surprise as the light impact rocked the toy inside him.
The wide circular base kept the toy from sliding inside and was perfect for a handle he grasped the base of the toy pulling gently Brady groaned low in his throat. The toy was half way out the widest point stretching his tight hole to the point of almost pain before Dean slid to toy inside again
He repeated the action three times until Brady begged him to stop.
"Please. Please. Please" He chanted incoherently
A slight muted gasp was the last vestiges of his control. Without looking Dean knew they were being watched.
The priest. He could feel him watching on the edges of the library.
Dean had never required an audience but he never shied away from putting on a show. He scanned the library before him and smiled as he spotted a conveniently placed mirror. It was at an angle from where they stood but it was perfectly place so that he could see the priest carefully watching around the corner. He had a hungry expression on his face as he watched one hand resting on his mouth perhaps to keep himself from calling out.
Dean turned his attention back to Brady and removed the plug. Tossing it aside on the table willing to clean up any mess he made later.
He didn't want to waste the time removing anymore clothing so he unzipped and slid his aching cock along the puckered slickness of Brady's ass.
He fumbled in his pocket for the lube. While unlike humans they weren't susceptible to diseases the body still required some things.
He poured the clear liquid into his palm, rubbing it gently in quick circles across his hole. Before also running a quick pass across his cock.
Castiel knew he shouldn't be watching this. It wasn't meant for his eyes it was a private moment even if it was in the center of the library. It was a sin that he was rock hard in his slacks that his cock throbbed and his blood roared in his ears.
He had seen men naked before. As a child swimming in the river, and as an adult in the shared showers at the community center, but this was something else entirely.
This was arousing to no end. This was what he had craved his entire life that secret dull yearning had bloomed it to a raging torrent of lust.
Castiel didn't recognize the other man but he knew Dean. Suddenly a fierce and unquenchable need to be that anonymous man bent across the table overcame him. The other man moaned in ecstatic bliss as Dean rubbed his cock against his now slickened hole before pushing inside.
Castiel had no earthly idea what that would feel like. He knew that sodomy was what happened between two men, but he had always assumed it would be painful and yet judging by the way the other man pushed back into the thrusts and groaned deep in his chest pain was not what he was feeling.
Without meaning to Castiel pressed his palm against the front of his slacks hoping to relieve the tension.
The heat wrapped around him soothed the mark but also enraged it at the same time. Sliding in and out of Brady each thrust rocked the table. He could see the priest in the mirror. The desire on his face was almost sweet compared to the wanton scene before him. It also didn't distract from the fact that the priest's cock was clearly hard beneath his black slacks.
The harder he fucked into Brady the harder the priest pressed against his own cock. The reaction was completely artless almost as if he hadn't even realized he was doing it. Suddenly this wasn't about Brady. It was about putting on a good show. Dean pulled Brady to his feet rotating them so that they would be facing the entrance way rather than away from it.
Dean pulled out long pull two chairs over enough to sit on the table. He placed a foot on each chair as support before pulling Brady up into his lap. Demonic strength really lended itself to athletic sex.
He was able to fully support the other man's weight a hand on each thigh as he lifted him shoving him up and down against his cock. Brady shouted his cries growing louder and louder the harder he thrust him down on him after a few vigorous thrust Dean allowed Brady to ride him rather than Dean forcing him down on his cock. Leaving him free to stroke Brady. He could see the human watching them but he pretended as if he couldn't see him. He wanted the human to watch him fuck Brady to completion. Some part of him enjoyed the idea of showing the human this scene. Of turning him on without even touching him.
Castiel was stoking his cock in earnest now. He couldn't fight the need any longer. At first he told himself just a little touch then he would return to his room and pleasure himself with the memories of this view, but the demon's turned towards him everything on full display. He could see as the head and the rest of Dean's cock disappeared as it slammed in and out of the other man as he bounced on his lap.
He watched the look of pleasure on Dean's face as he shuddered thrusting in and out the man.
His hand pumping the strangers cock his movements growing sloppy as he tried to thrust harder. He was going to finish. The thought sent a strange thrill through Castiel.
It also made it impossible for him not to touch himself. He twisted his and around his shaft before pumping up and down his eyes never leaving the scene before him. He was so close but he wanted to wait. He had to wait.
The other demon bellowed as he came strings of white hot semen splashing across his legs and chest.
Castiel almost lost it then never having seen another man reach his release before but he couldn't give into his pleasure yet. Dean's thrusts grew frantic frenzied as he pounded himself into the other man he shouted the look of pure pleasure on his face sent Castiel screaming over the edge. Covering his hand in his own fluids as Dean reached release inside the other man.
He was breathing heavily leaning against the wall only partially hidden now. Dean still sat on the table the other man leaning against his chest breathing hard. Dean looked over the other man's shoulder directly at him.
"Next time Padre why don't you join us? I'm a good show but I'm an even better lay."