Sometimes Castiel wonders if he was born a submissive. It certainly felt that way sometimes--as if some intricate flaw or gift in his design had given him the impulse. Combine his absolute fascination with Dominant-submissive relationships with mathematic genius and social ineptness, and behold!—Castiel Novak: child progeny with secret fetish. Too nervous to actually do anything about it, but also too weak to let it go.
And try as he might Castiel could not let the idea go.
He's read about this sort of thing of course, jerked off to thoughts of it until he was chaffed and sore.
He can't help it. It's a compulsion almost, a need. There is not a single hormone tinted memory that didn't carry the undertone of submission, the want to be on his knees in the hands of a dominant—to kiss an instrument of pain or to expose himself to the will of another.
He's never told another living soul about this want, can't even bring himself to believe it's part of who he is half the time, though he knows it to be true. And apart from some awkward research on the internet that yielded more porno results than actual helpful information on being a submissive, he's never really experienced it.
Submissive. To even think the word…
The closest he'd ever gotten to a taste of it had been an internet community dedicated to the lifestyle—a network of dominants and submissives who chatted about their common interests. He never joined, but he had managed to almost convince himself that it would be a good thing to do—something he owed to himself for working for hard, day in and day out, over a stack of papers.
However, the fear he would be found dead in a dumpster due to stranger danger won out. He hasn't touched the community with a ten foot pole since.
Since then he's been left with his imagination and his right hand. But then came Crowley, sweet wonderful Crowley who had no idea that when they fucked Castiel was far off, wishing and hoping for rough touches, insistent demands and the opportunity to serve.
He tries to stay in the present. He really does, but now that Castiel is actually in a relationship, he craves the dynamics even more. There are times when he is with Crowley and can't help but feel that something is missing. It has nothing to do with Crowley and who he is—or what he and Castiel are doing. The key was how they were doing it.
It gets to the point where Castiel can't even concentrate on being with Crowley when they were together. He keeps loosing himself to thoughts and dreams about Crowley holding him down, or of Crowley tying him up.
And slowly but surely, Castiel's sex life no longer revolves around their actual reality, but what should be.
"Is it okay if I do this, Cas? What about if I touch you here? Does that feel good, Cas?"
Don't ask, Castiel practically screams in his head, just take. It isn't right, and it isn't Crowley's fault. Crowley doesn't know, can't even understand how much Castiel wants this.
Castiel knows it's not fair, not right to be analyzing every action Crowley makes when they're together and comparing it to what he really wants, what really could be. To be honest it's no fault of Crowley's either. Cas hasn't told him—why would he? He knows the moment he takes a breath and confesses how much he wants that feeling, how much he needs to have release in that way Crowley will walk out.
He'll think Castiel is a pervert, or something messed him up when he was little. He'll think Castiel is even more broken than he really is…and he'll walk out. And that will be the end of it.
And Castiel really doesn't want it to end.
But still, he can't help it sometimes when he's lying under Crowley, eyes transfixed on the older man above him.
"You're so fucking beautiful." Crowley breathes, tilting his head down to suck on one of Cas's tender nipples. Cas bites his lip, trying to keep from crying out. Crowley worships him with touches like these, but all Castiel wants is to be the one doing the worshipping.
Crowley raises his head, lips wet from their task at hand, and Castiel can tell what's coming next, he just knows.
"Would it be okay if you sucked me off?"
It's all wrong. Too sweet. Too nice. But still Castiel supposes that while the wording isn't perfect in a way Crowley is asking him to do something, and what Crowley wants Castiel is more than happy to give. He just wishes for a command, and instead imagines a different phrasing of what has just been said.
"Get down on your knees now Cas. I want to see your pretty pink lips wrapped nice and tight around my cock. If you're good you'll get to swallow me when I come. If not…well let's just say you won't remember what it's like to come for a long, long time."
"Of course." Castiel rushes to reply, cheeks flushed. For the first time since they've started their relationship Crowley is looking at him oddly. Apparently no one he has ever met has ever been this eager to give head.
He slides down to the floor, landing on his knees with a hollow thud, glancing up at Crowley as he sits up, unbuckling his pants. Castiel can feel his mouth water, and the phantom weight of flesh and heat is already palpable on his tongue.
"What are you waiting for? I said suck. I want my cock nice and wet, do a good job. It'll be the only lube you're getting when I fuck your slutty hole tonight."
Castiel moans, practically salivating at the promise of Crowley's cock and the words he wishes the older man were saying. He can see it now, tall and erect, precome drooling at the tip; Castiel licks his lips at the sight. He loves that cock, loves it inside of him, filling him up and fucking him with a slow, pleasurable burn. Crowley inside him. Crowley around him. Crowley taking what he needs.
Castiel takes the whole length of it in his mouth, loving the deep groan Crowley lets out, and Cas can't help but feel proud at that. He caused Crowley to make that sound. He caused Crowley to buck his hips up in response, driving deeper into the wet, hot heat of Castiel mouth, till he hits the back of Cas's throat, causing him to gag.
"Oh God, sorry Cas!" he whisper cries. He doesn't want to hurt Cas, and it's admirable, it's wonderful.
But that's not what Castiel wants.
"That's right Cas, take that cock. You're a perfect fucktoy for me aren't you? You'll take anything I dish out huh? You'll do anything I say, you need it. You need me. Tell me what a good little boy you are."
"Ah, Crowley—yes—yes I am a good boy. I've been good, just please, I—"
"Cas?"
Crowley's voice comes from above, hesitant and a bit shocked. Castiel clothes his eyes, his face feels like its burning. With a moan he pulls of Crowley's cock. This time though the sound he makes is not from pleasure but from pure, utter mortification.
He curls up into a ball, head buried safely in the cradle of his lap. Maybe if he says like this long enough Crowley will simply fade away. Maybe this will all be a dream. After all, Castiel still can't believe someone like Crowley actually noticed him. Perhaps accidently blurting out part of his submissive fantasy he's been obsessed with since puberty isn't real either.
"Cas?" The voice persists, and Castiel groans again, because this is most definitely real.
Cas burrows his head deeper into his lap, and distantly he can hear the sound of Crowley's zipper being pulled up. He's getting dressed.
Which means…he's leaving. It's finally happened. Crowley knows and he's leaving.
"Cas, come on. Please, tell me what's going on. Is there…something you'd like to talk about? Or try?"
Cas remains silent. He can't find any words to repair what he's just done. It's over.
"Cas, tell me now." A command. Crowley's voice is hard, demanding with a edge of hot steel to it. Despite all his embarrassment, Castiel's cock twitches.
Castiel peeks from his hiding tentatively, making a small, hurt sound in the process.
"I'm a sub…" He whispers softly.
"What?" Crowley asks, leaning forward, trying to catch what the younger man is saying.
"I'm—I think I'm a sub. A submissive. I, um…I think I like being dominated." He trips over his words, believing his face to be burning red now.
"…and you want me to do that? When we…fuck?"
"It's fine Crowley. I'm going." Cas gets up as quickly as he can, he doesn't want to see the look on Crowley's face, the disgust and revolt that must be there. He starts fumbling for his tee shirt, can't seem to find it. All he knows is that he needs to leave the apartment and get back to the safety of his dorm as soon as possible.
Screw the shirt. He'll just wear his coat, no one will know. He just needs to leave, like yesterday.
Castiel manages to get halfway to the door, and he's just about to reach out for the handle.
"Castiel, stop right now. I mean it."
Cas can't help it, he does.
"Come here, to me. Now." Crowley's voice is different, more controlled and cool, with an edge to it that sets Cas's nerves on fire. He shuts his eyes briefly, and finally works up the courage to turn back to face Crowley.
Crowley is sitting back down on the couch, palming his hard cock through his jeans. The sight makes Castiel shudder, especially because of the way Crowley is looking at him—like Castiel is something he wants to devour, like Castiel is delicious.
"Strip." Crowley simply orders, continuing to rub the bulge in his jeans.
"Crowley I—"
"I said strip." Crowley barks, eyes dark, pupils blown. He licks his lips. Castiel can practically hear the gears turning in Crowley's head, all of the things he must be thinking, considering.
He knows Crowley is planning on what he is going to do to him.
Castiel is suddenly rock hard, and it's so hard to think when Crowley is looking at him like that, but an order is an order, and Castiel finds himself unzipping his jeans, letting them pool to the floor at his feet. He feels like he's putting on a show for Crowley, and he knows that Crowley is appreciating every single line of his body.
He's already shirtless from before, and so all he needs to do now is take off his briefs. With nervous breath he does, so he stands now, naked and vulnerable. It's obvious how hard he is, how much he wants this, and if Cas wasn't so distracted right now he could almost swear that Crowley was smirking.
"Come here." Crowley says, crooking his finger invitingly. Castiel obeys, stumbling along until he's standing right in front of Crowley. Crowley trails a callused finger slowly up and down the smooth flesh of Castiel's thigh, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Castiel can't help it, he lets out a little gasp. By the time the finger has made its way to the inside of his thighs Cas's eyes have started to roll back into his head.
"You say you've been a good boy Cas…but I don't think that's true. A good boy would have told me what he needed. I can't be expected to know what you're thinking. How can I give you what you need if you don't tell me?"
Crowley's fingers are making their way to Cas's stiff cock, and it's almost too overwhelming, but he can't think about that right now. This is a test. This is a gift. Crowley wants to give him what he needs, Cas is almost sure of it.
"I--I'm sorry Crowley. I have been bad. I'm sorry. I'll do better. I promise."
"You better Cas. I want you lying across my lap now. I've been too easy on you now. Things are going to change from here on out."
"Crowley—"
"I said across my lap Cas. Do it."
With awkward, clumsy movements Castiel lies face down across Crowley's lap. He knows what's coming next, and lifts his round, pale ass up in invitation for Crowley's hand.
"This is going to be your punishment, Cas….Hmmm. Let's see. How about twenty slaps for not telling me what you wanted and.…fifteen for stopping when you were sucking me off?" A hand ghosts over the delicate skin of Castiel's backside, teasing it with the promise of what was to come.
"Yes Crowley."
"Good boy." And before Castiel can let out a reply a hand come swinging down on the curve of his ass. Castiel cries out, unprepared as Crowley restless continues, not caring, not stopping. Slap after slap reign down on him. It clears his head, and Castiel feels alive, body pulled tight like a wire.
"You should see yourself right now Cas." Crowley murmurs in between spanks, "Your ass is such a pretty shade of red right now, all of those red palm prints crisscrossed on it. So nice, and pretty. I'm going to make this ass mine. Maybe later I'll slap your hole, make it all nice and puffy for me when I fuck it."
Castiel can't help it. An imaginary Crowley saying things like that was maddening. A real Crowley whispering filth like that? He came. Right then and there.
It's hot and messy and by far the most intense orgasm he's ever had. Crowley keeps spanking him through the aftershocks, sending jolt after jolt of pleasure-pain through his frame. Cas's vision whites out for a second. The pain only makes the pleasure, better, more real.
Crowley's breathing is ragged, and he slaps Castiel one last time, coming down hard enough to cause Cas to yelp and squirm. Crowley guides him to roll over, so they can finally look at each other.
"Was that…okay?" It's the first sign of doubt from Crowley, and it almost breaks Castiel's heart a little.
"It was wonderful Crowley. Thank you." He stretches out, long limbs covering the couch.
"I didn't…hurt you or anything?"
"Don't be sorry. I wanted this. I would have let you know if you went too far." He whispers.
"How? I mean what would be going too far Cas? I…liked that. I kind of want to do more."
Castiel whimpers at that thought, at the promise of more to come. "Anything that leaves permanent marks would be too far... Um, and my safeword is Erdős."
Crowley grins, smile a contrast to the heavy atmosphere that is hanging in the room. "Once a mathematician always a mathematician, huh?"
"Mmmm." Castiel agrees, leaning into a caress Crowley gives him, "You know me too well…"
