Title: Tastes Like Forgiveness 5/8

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Rating: NC-17

Word Count: 4,500 this chapter – 36,500 total

Summary: Season 7 AU. After releasing Leviathan, Castiel is pulled from the reservoir fully human. With only the men he betrayed to rely on, Castiel does anything he can to redeem himself, especially to Dean.

Spoilers: End of season 6, throughout season 7

Warnings: Spanking, CBT, humiliation, angst, everyone's mean to Cas, potential domestic abuse triggers

Castiel was happy.

Sam didn't completely and totally hate him anymore, with a seething fiery vengeance. They weren't exactly friends just yet. But at least Sam would talk to him, sometimes.

Nora had lent him a thin volume on Wiccan magic. It was mostly history and lore, and a few meditative exercises, to heighten his senses and open his mind to the craft. She said it would be some time before he could do anything, but he found the exercises soothing and relaxing.

Then of course there was the fact that Dean's cock was in his mouth, and the man was lightly and teasingly whipping his spread hole with the crop, the sound of it as well as the sensation making Castiel throb with pleasure.

And Dean hadn't even punished him.

They'd been in their motel room, resting between hunts. Castiel had been cleaning the guns. Dean had been online looking for another job. A long time had passed since they'd spoken, so Castiel was startled when Dean called his name.

"Come here," the hunter had said and beckoned Castiel over.

Castiel had gone over obediently, and stood in front of Dean, waiting for instruction.

"Here," Dean had said, his voice going lower, and his hand shifting down to the groin of his pants. Castiel's eyes followed and he saw the bulge of Dean's erection, tenting his jeans. He'd nodded and went to his knees without hesitation, tugged Dean's pants open, and gone to work. The addition of the crop, only working against his hole, had been an extra and unexpected treat, as far as Castiel was concerned.

This happened a few times, with Dean requesting Castiel's mouth and teasing his hole with the crop, letting Castiel jerk off while the pleasure surged through him. Each time, Castiel was certain Dean tasted sweeter and sweeter after his orgasm flooded Castiel's mouth.

Finally, Castiel made a daring suggestion when Dean asked for him, the third night in a row.

"You can… You can have more than my mouth…" Castiel said breathlessly, the excitement and arousal already overwhelming him from just the thought of it. If Castiel had known it would be so easy, just to offer, he would have done so earlier.

He was stripped completely naked in a matter of moments, Dean's hands all over him, tearing off his clothes, growling at uncooperative buttons. Tentatively, Castiel reached out to Dean, gripping the hem of his shirt. When he was not reprimanded, when his hands were not batted away, he dared, and pulled Dean's shirt over his head, ruffling his hair for a moment.

Then he was pushed back on to Dean's bed.

Dean shoved down his own pants and underwear, and Castiel swallowed hard at the sight of him naked, pure muscle and strength compared to Castiel's smaller body. Dean's skin was dark and golden, a sharp contrast to Castiel's much lighter skin. He trembled with anticipation as the bed sank with Dean's weight, the man climbing over him, hands going everywhere to stroke and grab and pinch, leaving Castiel a puddle of sensation and confusion.

"On your stomach," Dean rumbled, his breath hot against Castiel's ear. Castiel jerked at the command, one he hadn't heard in a long time, and as the words rang in his ear, his cock jerked to attention as well, starting to swell and throb.

He quickly turned onto his stomach, and looked over his shoulder to watch Dean caress his back, run his hands along his skin, his eyes fastened to the rounded curve of Castiel's ass. Castiel's breath caught as he saw Dean raise his hand, and gave into the cry of pleasure as it came down, smacking his ass. Dean gave him a few hard smacks, jolting the pleasure into Castiel's skin, but then he stopped, rubbing Castiel's pink cheeks, feeling how warm they'd gotten so quickly.

"I can have this?" Dean asked, and his thumb slid into the cleft between Castiel's cheeks, grazing the opening gently, teasing.

"Yes," Castiel said, already breathless from the too short spanking.

"You're sure?" Dean asked, pressing his thumb a little more firmly, almost but not quite pushing in.

"Please. I want you to," Castiel insisted, pushing his hips up against Dean's thumb.

Castiel didn't see Dean's slight nod, and he whined when the man pulled away, reaching beside the bed for his duffle bag. Castiel watched with interest as he fumbled inside, opening an inner pocket, and pulling out a small plastic bottle. Castiel's heart throbbed in his chest, and his cock throbbed between his legs.

After the first time he'd sucked Dean off, he'd done research, careful to clear the history after each session. Even then, that first time, he'd known what he wanted. As he learned how it was done between two men, watched videos that left him spent wet and sticky in his own hands, he'd become more eager and hopeful that someday Dean would want it, too.

A cool, wet finger slid inside him, slow, but unceasing. Castiel gasped, unprepared, and his hole tightened instinctively against the invasion. A firm slap on the ass loosened him up quickly enough though.

"Relax, Cas," Dean said, his tone admonishing and teasing all at once. He smacked Castiel's butt again as he slid his finger in deeper, working it slowly against the tight muscles as Castiel sighed with pleasure beneath him.

"You're still a virgin, right?" Dean asked, conversationally as he wiggled his finger inside.

"Y-yes," Castiel gasped, squirming the same way Dean's finger moved. He was glad he was still a virgin, glad that Dean would be the first, glad that he could make this offering to him and him alone.

Dean made a noise. Castiel thought it sounded like approval, and his heart hummed with pleasure, growing thick in his chest even as he writhed against the bed, moaning out louder as Dean pushed a second finger in, the slow burn between his cheeks heightening the pleasure.

Dean worked slowly and carefully, giving Castiel a few spanks once in awhile as he fingered him, making Castiel jump with pleasure. His cock was leaking copiously against the bed, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer. He tried voicing his concern to Dean, but his words came out in broken, mewling sentences. He wasn't sure if Dean understood him, as the man just chuckled and pushed his fingers deeper, wiggling and seeking until they brushed up against something hot inside Castiel's body, like a live-wire, searing pleasure through his body. He gasped at Dean's exploratory brush, and then cried out louder as it was fondled again, rubbed more deliberately until he was overcome, spilling out on the sheets as his body clamped around Dean's fingers, a way of asking for even more.

Still panting, and struggling for breath, Castiel was barely aware as Dean withdrew his fingers from his still spasming hole. Vaguely he was aware of their absence, the emptiness they left behind, just as he was vaguely aware of what would follow.

Dean moved over him, draping his body over Castiel's, chest to back, groin to butt, thigh to thigh. Dean's hard length bobbed between Castiel's legs, hot and insistent. Hands under his hips urged Castiel to rise up, on his knees, though the weight at his shoulders urged him down, his face pressed into the pillows, turned to the side, so he could see Dean in his periphery.

The head of Dean's cock pressed up against Castiel's hole, there was a tight pressure at first, as the little knot of flesh resisted, and then a feeling of release as Dean slid inside, Castiel's relaxed and loosened body taking him in easily.

Dean didn't hesitate. Like with his finger, he moved slowly but continuously, sliding in inch by inch until his hips pressed up tight against Castiel's ass, with nowhere left to go. Castiel was a little pile of noise, a constant whine of pleasure murmuring from his throat as he was slowly and steadily filled up to the very brim, with hard, pulsing, heat.

Dean stayed still for long moments, his own breaths puffing against the back of Castiel's neck, strained with effort as he remained still. Castiel wiggled, his muscles tightening around Dean's cock mindlessly, and then a whine slid from his throat.

"Please," he said, whining, wiggling, begging for more that he didn't understand yet.

That was all it took, and then he felt the agonizing sensation of Dean pulling back, pulling out, while his flesh clung to the man, trying to hold him in. Dean pulled back until the thick, flared tip of his cock stretched against the rim of Castiel's hole, holding him open. And then he thrust back in, hard, making Castiel cry out, loud and unhindered.

Castiel thought, for the briefest, most distracted moment, of the gag Sam had given them, forgotten in a bag somewhere, and then his whole mind was focused, dizzily so, on the feeling of Dean pounding into him. His mind was burned on certain parts of his body; Dean's cock splitting him open, the heavy weight of him against his back, his callused hands gripping bruises into his hips.

And the sounds they were making. He was certain he was making some of his own, but he could only hear Dean. The man panted and groaned directly into his ear, his grunts gruff, panting hot against his skin. There was the rhythmic creaking of the bed, and the slap-bang of the headboard against the wall, and most striking of all, for Castiel, was the sound of Dean's hips slapping against his ass, the sure sound of flesh hitting flesh, so like the sound of Dean's spankings, that it sent a fissure of pleasure cracking through him, a learned response from the familiar sound that left his skin tingling, and his cock dripping as it bobbed between his legs.

As Dean quickened behind him, his thrusts harder, uninhibited, Castiel moved back to meet him, rocking his hips back and forth, finding a natural rhythm to help drive the pleasure deep. He gasped and cried out, as the spot inside him was struck again and again by the head of Dean's cock. The few times in the shower, with soapy fingers exploring his own hole, had never felt anything like this. He'd never been so full, and hot, and complete.

Castiel felt as Dean's hips jerked unevenly, as his grip tightened on Castiel, the way his hands usually tightened in his hair when Castiel used his mouth. He knew Dean was close, and keened with desire, wanting to feel the sweetness of his release inside, hold it in there as a reminder.

Castiel reached between his legs, grabbed his rigid cock, and started stroking, palming himself quickly to get over the edge. He wanted to be overwhelmed with pleasure when Dean filled him up. He wanted their pleasure to be simultaneous, to connect them and bind them together, even closer than before.

Dean's hips moved harder. Deep, finalizing thrusts, stabbed inside Castiel, striking his prostate each time, pushing his pleasure higher while Castiel stroked himself, trying to pull it out, to reach it just in time.

Castiel choked on his own breath as he came, the cry stuttered in his throat as his orgasm overcame him, ripping through him, tearing out through his cock, splashing over his fingers, sticky and hot onto the sheets. His body tightened and spasmed, and above him he heard Dean grunt, his hips shifting harder, grinding into Castiel as the angel's hole clamped around him, milking and squeezing around Dean's cock lovingly.

Dean let out his own breathless cry as he came, and the feeling of it, of Dean's semen spilling inside Castiel's body gave him new breath and returned sound to him. He let out a small, happy cry, a mewling sound of pleasure and satisfaction before he slumped down. He crumpled on the bed, in the wet spot of his own making, with Dean a heavy, solid weight on top of him.

Sensation flooded over Castiel, leaving his skin on fire, sensitive to everything as he shuddered and pulsed. He let out another small cry as Dean pulled out, a sound of loss as the hunter shifted to the side. He felt empty and stretched where Dean had left him, but was also vividly aware of the man's seed left behind. Castiel reveled in the feel of it. He was always left with the taste of Dean's seed in his mouth, but couldn't feel it inside. He could only imagine it. But the proof of Dean was hot inside him, dripping out just a little. Castiel wondered if he could sleep with it inside, and still feel it in the morning, or if it would just seep out, leaving his legs and sheets a sticky mess.

Dean lay beside him, stretched out on his back. They were pressed so close together, Castiel could feel the heat coming off of Dean's body. The hunter was covered in sweat, and his breathing was still quick and heavy, but a smoothness covered his brow, a relaxed sated look took over his features. Even after oral sex, Dean did not look quite so content.

Castiel watched Dean as the hunter lay there with his eyes shut, looking like he was ready to drift off, and Castiel thrilled at the thought of lying beside him, huddled against the warmth of him, and there when he'd wake up. Castiel's eyes went to Dean's mouth, his lips slightly parted as he puffed out breaths, his breathing finally starting to slow.

Castiel leaned up on his elbows, hovered over Dean for just a moment, and then lowered his lips to his, pressing them gently, a dry brush, before he opened his mouth and took the smallest taste, a swipe of his tongue to see if Dean's forgiveness was there as well, if he could taste it on his lips, even if the man hadn't spoken the words yet.

But Dean jerked back quickly at that first touch, and gave Castiel a confused and wounded look.

"What're you doing?" Dean asked, sitting up, taller than Castiel.

"I wanted to kiss you," Castiel said, confused by Dean's look after they'd shared such intimacy.

Dean stared at him for what seemed like hours, and Castiel could not read all of what was warring behind Dean's eyes.

"Don't," Dean finally said.

Castiel pulled back a little, out of the circle of warmth created by Dean's body, reprimanded for stepping too far, doing something unasked. It was still hard for him to discern which intimacies were acceptable with Dean at this phase.

"You're a mess," Dean said quietly, gesturing to Castiel's body. "Go take a shower."

Castiel nodded and slid out of bed. When he stood up, he felt Dean's come inside him seeping out, gravity working against him, so he stepped quickly to the bathroom, and into the tub, as it dripped down his thighs. He was saddened that he would not be able to hold it in, to remember it in the morning, as he washed quickly, rinsing off sweat and the smell of sex.

When he stepped out of the shower, he toweled off quickly, and put on a pair of boxers to sleep in. He went back out to the room and found Dean in the other bed, the one that was clean, and free of bodily fluids. The hunter looked like he was already asleep. He was clearly on one side of the bed, the covers in disarray, and Castiel approached, ready to climb in beside him, apologize for the kiss, but then he saw his sleeping bag.

Dean had laid it out for him, at the foot of the bed, leaving it open and welcoming for Castiel.

Castiel stood over it, for several minutes, his body trembling slightly, as he looked between the sleeping bag, and the bed Dean occupied. Slowly, he knelt down, and slid into the sleeping bag, hugging the pillow close to his chest.

Castiel was woken up by Dean nudging him with his foot. He looked up blearily at the hunter, showered and fully dressed, without Castiel having even noticed that he was moving around the room. He certainly needed to work on that if he ever hoped to be an effective hunter.

"I'm going out to get breakfast. Sam'll be here soon to do some research," he said brusquely, his tone colder than usual, though not by a lot. Most people probably wouldn't even notice the change.

Castiel nodded to the information, understanding the words that weren't said; to tidy up the room. Once Dean was gone, Castiel climbed out of his sleeping bag and stood up to stretch out the kinks he got from sleeping on the floor. He was much more used to it now than at first, but he looked longingly at the two beds in the room, for once, both of them looking slept in without Castiel having to mess up the sheets on the other.

As he tidied up the room, he tried not think about the night before, despite the reminder of the slight ache around his hips. He also did not think about it while he was in the shower, or brushing his teeth. Nor did he think about it while he shaved his face, carefully, like Dean had taught him.

He went to his duffel to pick out his clothes, and did not glare at the sleeping bag he had been relegated to the night before, and he did not think about what would have happened if he had not kissed Dean, for just the briefest moment. He didn't think about what he had tasted there in that too brief kiss.

What he did start thinking about though, was that when Sam suddenly entered the room without even knocking, Castiel hadn't yet put away his sleeping bag. It was still laid out on the floor, looking used and slept in, at the bottom of Dean's bed, with the pillows from the other bed that neither of them had actually slept in.

Castiel cursed that hunters were trained by habit to be keen observers, and saw how Sam's eyes went immediately to the sleeping bag on the floor, confusion creasing his brow for a moment, as he tried to figure out why it was there and being used. It didn't take long though. Castiel could see Sam working out a theory in his head as realization dawned on his face.

"Cas, why are you sleeping on the floor?"

Castiel froze, unable to respond. If there was one rule Dean had made very clear, repeated over and over again, it was that Sam was not supposed to know what they were doing. Castiel was supposed to make sure he didn't find out. So he messed up the second bed every morning. Rolled up the sleeping bag and tucked it away. Wore the gag whenever he was whipped.

Sam gave Castiel an exasperated look when he saw the panic wash over Castiel's features, and tugged him over to a chair next to the little table afforded to the motel room, forcing him to sit.

"Tell me what's going on."

"Nothing's going on," Castiel said, wishing he could think faster and come up with a reasonable lie to explain away the sleeping bag. At this point, even if he thought of something clever, his stall would damn him. He wasn't a good enough liar to fool either Winchester.

"My brother was in a bitchtastic mood this morning, and Satan is singing show tunes in my head. Off-key. One of these is definitely your fault, and I'm assuming the other one is as well, so tell me what is going on."

Castiel bit his lip at Sam's words, hurt that he needed reminding, and that Sam would use that against him. Over ridden with guilt, unable to lie, compelled to tell when commanded, hesitatingly, Castiel spoke.

"I kissed Dean last night."

"So?"

"I've never kissed him before."

"All these weeks you've been together and you haven't kissed him?" Sam asked incredulously. He looked doubtful, and also a little confused.

"Last night was also the first time we had sex." Castiel could feel warmth sweeping up his neck, a hot blush working into his cheeks as he made this private confession to Sam.

"Uhm, right," Sam said, a knowing, but doubtful smile on his face, which annoyed Castiel, since he was telling the truth and it was incredibly embarrassing. "And what does all this have to do with the sleeping bag on the floor?"

"That's punishment," Castiel said simply, as though this were obvious. "I don't deserve to sleep on a bed."

Sam's mouth gaped for a moment, unable to find words. His brow furrowed, with confusion, and now a sort of worry and concern. He stared at Castiel, trying to put the pieces together in his head, so that they made some sort of sense.

"Wait, so you have sex and then he makes you sleep on the floor? That's twisted," Sam said, and Castiel could hear the beginning of outrage in his voice. But he shook his head.

"I told you, last night was the first time we had sex."

"Cas, the walls are thin in these motels. I've heard you. It's not a big secret."

"We weren't having sex…" Castiel said, and then hesitated. He took a deep breath and it shuddered through his chest. "That was also punishment."

The words clicked almost immediately, and Sam's eyes went wide with shock.

"Dean's torturing you?" Sam asked in a low, dark voice, his eyes brimming with worry. It was then Castiel's turn to widen his eyes with shock.

"No! He wouldn't do that," Castiel insisted quickly, though in his mind he wasn't so sure if Dean wouldn't, so much as he hadn't. Yet. Perhaps if Castiel made him angry enough someday, he would. He knew deep down he worried about that, but he pushed the thought away.

"He doesn't torture me. He just… it's…" Castiel stuttered, and his cheeks warmed up again as embarrassment flooded him. He knew what Dean did to him wasn't normal. He knew what kind of connotations came with adults spanking each other. Dean's punishment was meant to humiliate and humble Castiel, and he had chosen it well.

"He… he spanks me…" Castiel muttered, sinking low in his chair and keeping his eyes glued to the floor. There was no way he was going to tell Sam the full details, how the spanking had actually changed over to cock whipping several weeks ago, and how that had even transmuted into something else, even more perverse. The main idea was that Dean was humiliating him, not hurting him. Not much.

"That's… are you… are you joking?" Sam asked, running his hands roughly through his hair, overwhelmed by the information he was getting. He, too, looked a little red in the cheeks, no doubt imagining it, and feeling embarrassed for Castiel as well.

"It's not a joke. Dean takes it very seriously. You weren't supposed to find out."

"No shit! This ends today," Sam said, full of righteous fury, so like the Sam of old that Castiel hadn't seen in such a long time, and that righteousness had certainly never been directed toward him. Though now, he thought it was unfounded. Perhaps even overzealous.

"Why?" he asked, confused by Sam's stance on the matter.

"Why?" Sam repeated, incredulous. "Cas, what Dean's doing? It isn't normal. People don't do that to each other."

"I'm not stupid, Sam," Castiel said, surprised by the sudden anger in his own voice, tired of being treated like an idiot by everyone around him when he was millions of years old. "Dean and I are also not normal. Our… agreement," Castiel settled on the word with dissatisfaction. "Reflects that. I understand that you are perturbed by what your brother is doing, but you should know I don't disagree with him. I deserve punishment."

"You don't deserve this," Sam said, gesturing vaguely around the room. Castiel noted that Sam hadn't said he didn't deserve punishment, just not the kind Dean was dishing out.

"Then what do I deserve? How would you like to punish me, so that I may earn your complete forgiveness?"

"It takes time to earn forgiveness, especially after what you did. I don't want to punish you," Sam said, his own anger rising.

"You may not want to, but you do. Once we were friends. I could confide in you, and ask you for advice and help. But you shut me out. That was your punishment, and it hurt more than what Dean does with me. He at least is direct. He at least speaks to me, and instructs me, and tells me what to do to make amends."

"So, you want me to beat the hell out of you, too?" Sam snapped.

"Do you want to beat me? You can. I find there is very little I wouldn't do if Dean asked me. You are probably the same. You can ask me to do anything, Sam, and I will, if you think it will lead toward forgiveness."

"Cas, do you know how fucked up you sound when you say something like that?"

"For millennia, I served and obeyed. In the few years that I did not, look at the result. I nearly destroyed everything. So give me orders. I will follow them. I will do whatever I can to serve."

Sam's nostrils flared, anger apparent on his face, but Castiel could tell it wasn't exactly directed at him. It wasn't really directed at anything in particular, just the situation in general. There was a warring of emotions there, the old instinct to help a friend, to stop pain, and a new instinct to not trust or care.

"There's only one thing I want, and you can't do it," Sam said, his voice low as the anger ebbed away slightly. "You broke the wall in my head. You let Lucifer in. Until he's gone, I can't ever forgive you."

A feeling of defeat washed over Castiel. Already he and Bobby and the Winchesters had done what research they could, but had found no way to expel Lucifer from Sam's consciousness. No psychics would touch him. No spells could expel the madness. No healers had the power. All their research had led to a dead end.

So this was Castiel's future. One brother who was unwilling to forgive Castiel, his guilt overriding his desire, and the other incapable of it with the constant reminder of Castiel's betrayal in his head.