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It should have been easy. The thought is laughable now. But, no, it really should have. It was just a couple of demons after all, and with a fully powered angel? Light work wouldn’t have even described it.
But of course they went big, not home. They always went bigger, didn't they?
The demons had managed to get a drop on them, knocked Dean out, and wrestled Castiel into an angel cuff. Singular. They weren’t able to subdue him further until one threatened Dean. After that they had decided to cuff the two together and chain them together the rest of the way.
When Dean eventually awoke, it wasn’t noticeable, unless you knew him well or were chained to him. Luckily, Cas was both. The chains too were covered in angel warding, making Cas’s strength null and void against them.
He could sense the moment the hunter’s breathing changed from relaxed to calmly controlled. They weren’t being noticeably monitored but Cas would let his human decide when to reveal his consciousness—Plus he was enjoying the feel of the hunter’s back against his.
“We being watched?” Dean muttered after many minutes of silence, breaking the peaceful rhythm of his breath.
“No.”
Behind him Dean started shifting against his back, trying to break free of both their chains and the cuffs, and with no luck on a Winchester’s side, to no avail either.
Cas almost felt disappointed as Dean slumped back down with a grunt, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they broke out… Somehow.
Cas eventually tries to crane his neck to get a look at Dean, but can’t make out much more than the vague outline of his face looking… Up?
“Are you praying?”
His question seems to catch Dean off guard and he puffs out a laugh.
“Only one I’d be prayin’ to is you Cas, don’t worry.” Cas could swear he barely catches Dean winking at him. He had been a bit worried.
“I wasn’t worried.” Dean lets out another small laugh.
“Sure, buddy,” he says, disbelievingly. Before Cas can retort, Dean continues. “No, I wasn’t praying, Cas, I was just looking,” Dean says this like it means something else but it all goes over Cas’s head. Before Cas can ask, Dean nudges his shoulder, and gestures up with his head, so Cas looks up.
Above them is a giant hatch for a vent. Beyond it, sunlight.
“Think we could reach that?” Dean asks. Castiel considers.
“I could jump and ram my shoulder against the grate, though I’m not sure how we can get out once it’s off.”
Dean fidgets slightly against him and Cas unintentionally shivers when the hunter’s cuffed hand brushes against his fingers before reigning himself back in. He’s sure it was purely incidental.
“If you get that grate off, with a bit of manoeuvring we can get up there by pushing against the sides and then we can climb to the top. Like that scene from Emperor’s New Groove.” After sitting in a moment of confused silence Dean sighs and says, “I’ll show it to you later, Jack likes it. Sound like a plan?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Jumping up to the grate is the easiest part—which is to say this whole task is difficult. Although the single cuff and the chains with half-hearted angel warding can resist his strength, the grate is made with no such specialty. The first jump is the worst. Castiel fails to account for not only the extra weight but where the both of them would land. He jumps, misses the grate, his shoulder barely skimming it, making the metal creak but not move, and for the next second he is falling and can’t think of how to catch himself. Then a second after, he hits the ground, except he doesn’t. Dean hits the ground with an oomph and a groan as Cas lays flat on him. After another second of Cas laying in his own consternation, Dean starts to writhe beneath him Castiel realizes he’s wheezing, so he quickly rolls over.
He’s holding Dean’s weight on his back, the feeling vaguely familiar to that of his wings. It’s comfortable.
Castiel is content to lay there with Dean on top of him for the next little while he catches his breath. Dean, however, decides to be more practical in their situation.
“Warn a guy next time…” Dean pants. “And maybe ease up on the Wheaties.” He’s still straightening out his breath, which too feels nice against Castiel, but then Dean’s trying to sit back up, so Castiel helps him. For a moment Dean’s curled up, his weight fully held by Castiel and as he unfurls it truly reminds the fallen angel of his wings…
“Okay, let's try that again.” Castiel readies at Dean's words but the hunter hurriedly interrupts. “But! Try to keep me from becoming a pancake this time, got it?”
“Got it,” Castiel responds and jumps again, this time to the appropriate height. He manages to fully dent the grate before falling back to his feet, Dean safely on his back rather than underneath him this time. At his success, Cas immediately tries again, and again, until the metal fully caves in, giving the two an access point into the vent above.
The tendrils of sunlight reach towards them, but stop short, the passage being too long for it to fully travel. It’s going to be a long way up.
“Nice work, now next time you jump, get ready to push against the sides.”
And that’s just what Cas does. They use the second where it feels like they’re floating to stick the soles of their boots against the sides of the vent and Castiel pushes. For a moment, he’s not sure if it’s worked, but when they stay fixed to the wall, he knows it’s worked. However when he realizes he’s a little more stretched out than he should be, he looks to see Dean squeezed against his knees and the vent, shooting him an irate glare. He loosens the pressure he’s applying and looks back at Dean apologetically who only huffs once he’s readjusted.
“I can see the angel cuffs don’t have much of an effect on you.”
“With only one of the links they’re mainly physically restraining rather than mystically debilitating. I cannot break them, but my powers aren’t affected, no.”
Dean only hums in response to that.
“Okay, don’t move, we’re gonna have to do this slowly, one at a time. When I move my right foot, you move your right at the same time, then my left and your left. If we do it right we should be able to climb all the way out, ready?”
Cas grunts in acknowledgement. They start off slow and get a steady rhythm which soon becomes monotonous.
“So, Cas,” Dean starts. “What’s an angel like you doing in a place like this?”
“We came here together, Dean.” Castiel responds, confused. His eyes narrow despite Dean not being able to see it and regrets not thinking to check Dean for a concussion before they entered the vent.
“I suppose we did,” Dean grunts as they move their left foot together, then their right yet again.
“Are you alright?”
“Peachy, Cas. Just peachy.”
Once they reach the top, Cas springs to his feet, and they soon learn that the angel will have to carry Dean on his back until they can find a way to break the chains. The prolonged position is a bit awkward, though not uncomfortable other than Dean’s constant grumbling complaints of things like how Cas shouldn’t be ‘wearing him like a backpack.’
“Would you rather carry me on your back?” Castiel eventually counters to which Dean seems to respond by falling into silence.
Soon enough they find an old rusted pair of bolt cutters in the abandoned warehouse they had been stored in and Dean cuts through the chains like butter. The cuffs however won’t budge.
They make it nearly out of the warehouse on their way to where they had hidden Baby when they get jumped by the same two idiot demons who had captured them in the first place.
Idiot demons who brought Dean’s confiscated demon killing knife and Cas’s angel blade to a fight.
Though seemingly at a disadvantage due their bondage, all it takes is one look at Dean to know it’s not going to hinder them in the slightest.
The demon with the knife rushes them, targeting Dean first. Their mistake.
Cas grabs Dean’s hand and uses their bond to swing him out of the way of the knife, letting it stab into his back as Dean comes round a full circle to punch the demon. Following his momentum Dean crashes towards Cas, embracing him as he pulls the knife out of his shoulder blade.
Over his shoulder Cas spies the second demon charging towards them as the other recovers from the shock of the punch’s effect. Dean turns back with a slight push from Cas and then pulls him over to the side so that the demon’s charge lands between, its arm sliding above their cuffs instead of into flesh where Dean wraps his hand over it, trapping the offending appendage before stabbing his own knife into the demon’s sternum.
Castiel twists backwards into Dean as the demon flashes going limp, catching his angel blade behind him and protecting Dean’s back where the other demon has decided to attack. His arm raises in less than a second and the blade is thrust into the demon’s throat before it even has time to register the angel.
When the knife slides out of the last demon’s neck they are both bloodied and panting. Dean is now standing beside him, watching him with something Castiel cannot decipher, but amounts to pride or some kind of adrenaline fuelled admiration that he tucks away to examine later.
The next thing he knows, Dean is dragging him over to one of the bodies, rummaging through its pockets until he lets out a triumphant sound, holding up the key to their cuffs.
Castiel feels the power rush back through him when the metal is finally taken away. Though he feels a different kind of rush when Dean inspects his unblemished wrist by needlessly running his fingers over it. Nevertheless, Castiel uses their physical connection to send a bit of his grace to run along Dean’s own wrist, taking away any hint of bother or bruise.
Dean keeps the cuffs, stowing them into his jacket’s inner pocket. Castiel barely makes note of it.
~~~
When they get back to the bunker Dean says he’s ‘beat’ despite the fact that they had won the fight, so he goes to take a shower.
With the rest of the bunker currently empty and little else to do, Cas goes to Dean’s room. To wait.
He doesn’t mean to find Dean’s discarded jacket with the cuffs held inside but once he does, he can’t help but inspect them further. The metal is the same as his blade, the enochian engraved into it is fine, all the warding precise and nigh miraculously crafted.
Castiel almost wants to thank the object for restraining him and Dean together. It’s an odd thought, but it was also undeniably invigorating to fight by the hunter’s side in such a way. He’s slightly saddened by the thought that it was most likely a once in his lifetime experience, yet thankful he got to experience it at all.
So caught up as he was, he hadn’t heard Dean come back in, but the soft click of the door makes him keenly aware. Dean's eyes land on the cuffs before meeting his. His tongue juts out, a nervous habit that Castiel has observed reverently over the years.
“You know…” Dean starts, but doesn’t continue.
“No, I don’t,” Cas answers, knowingly. Dean clears his throat and looks away.
“I had an idea.” His eyes dart back to Cas.
“An idea?” Cas raises a single brow to Dean, tilting his head. Dean swallows, notably.
“An idea on how we could put those cuffs to good use,” Dean finally finishes, all the more confident by Cas’s steadfast stare.
“And what would that use be?” Cas continues, shifting his legs slightly wider from where he sits on the edge of Dean’s bed.
“Well.” Dean walks around the bed to Cas. “I’ve heard there’s a wayward angel loose around these parts.” Another lick of his lips as he stands directly in front of Cas looking down at him. “It’d be a shame if he got away…”
Dean's knees shift, digging into the mattress behind Castiel as he takes a seat in the angel’s lap.
“I’m sure this ‘wayward angel,’” Cas drawls as he leans closer towards Dean. “Has no desire to leave.”
Castiel is sure there is no finer sight than seeing Dean Winchester blush at nothing more than his voice.
“But if you’d like to make sure…” Cas delicately hands the cuffs over to Dean and bares his wrists outward.
Dean looks up at him, maintaining eye contact as his expression grows as intense as gravity, yet a clear excitement floats from beneath his skin.
“You’re sure?” he asks and Castiel doesn’t need to think, doesn’t even need to know if Dean kept the key, he’d be happy to give almost anything to Dean Winchester. He nods.
Dean’s tongue darts to his lips yet again before he’s bringing Castiel’s right wrist up. He leans down and places a soft kiss on top of his radial artery, staying just long enough to feel Cas’s heartbeat, his eye lashes dusting the skin before his gaze flicks back up to Cas’s own. When his lips leave he replaces them with one of the metal bands of the cuffs.
He repeats the process with his other wrist, this time pushing Cas’s arm behind before slipping the cool metal over it and by the end Castiel’s heartbeat is practically jumping from the contact, wanting more.
Both of his wrists are now bound, his grace with them. He begins to feel things more acutely and every one of those sensations are practically shouting more, more, more.
Without the use of his hands, he leans forward, falling into Dean and snatching his lips on the way down. Only Dean catches him, both of his hands enveloping Cas’s face, tracing patterns over his stubble and guiding their lips wonderfully together.
Dean wouldn’t let him fall. Cas sighs deeply into the kiss.
When Dean pulls away, he almost protests, except the next moment Dean is pulling off his shirt and down his pants and any complaints die off the tip of his tongue as it once again enters Dean’s mouth.
They fall together, down into the sheets. Castiel’s arms are pushed into the mattress below him, but he can hardly mind as Dean sucks fervently on his tongue. Cas can’t hold in the low moan that it pulls from him. Hands roam up and down his body, settling against his hip, the other unbuttoning his shirt, and then both unbuckling his pants in a flurry.
One moment Dean’s mouth is on his own, the next it’s panting down his body, from his jaw to his neck, collar bone, down his pectoral until it latches onto a nipple and Dean once again sucks. Castiel moans.
“D—Dean,” he tries, his hips bucking up into Dean’s pelvis, both still maddeningly covered by cloth. “Take—” Dean swirls his tongue and draws out an extended grunt “—Take off your boxers.”
Dean finally pulls away from his nipple to smile down at him. It would be absolutely stunning if not for its currently undeniable impish quality.
“Wow, Cas, take me to dinner first.” Cas looks at him confused and Dean’s smile just widens. He leans down close to Castiel’s ear. “Or at least say please.” He licks a stripe up the lobe to the side of Cas’s ear and he can’t help the groan and another rut of his hips into Dean’s, except this time Dean lifts himself up, not giving Castiel the contact he truly wants.
“Dean,” he starts, his voice thin and body writhing when Dean nibbles on his pulse. “Dean.”
“Hmm?” The vibration right against his throat nearly drives Cas into a fit of wanting, useless writhing. Instead he swallows it down, forcing a proper vocal shape through his throat instead.
“Please—Please take off your boxers.”
Dean pulls away again and smiles down at him softer this time.
“Anything else while I’m at it?” He crooks a brow.
“Mine too.” Dean’s smile doubles.
He makes quick work of his own boxers and Cas’s pants, but doesn’t pull them down further than his knees. When he gets to Cas’s boxers he looks back up with a cunning eye. One of his hands rubs over Cas’s already half hard cock through his boxers and his eyes roll to the back of his head as he groans deep in his throat.
Dean laughs from above him and that just causes another pleasurable sound to escape Cas.
“Stay with me a little longer, buddy,” Dean says, moving his palm away, but lowering his face to Cas’s pelvis. “Got a couple more things up my sleeve that I’d like you to enjoy tonight.”
“You’re not wearing a shirt, Dean.”
“And you like it.” Castiel cannot refute it, so instead he bares witness.
Cas doesn’t whimper but it’s a near thing when Dean’s breath ghosts over his hip and his teeth drag on the skin. Then he’s kissing and licking his way down, down, down following the line of the ilium until he reaches the band of his boxers.
A couple breaths pass and Cas twitches minutely, wishing his hands were freed so he could trace the fine line of Dean’s cheek. Or to push down his own boxers to end this torture. Though, he supposes the former thought is the more romantic of the two.
The moment passes by too quickly and the next thing Cas feels is Dean pressing a kiss just below his stomach. Dean’s teeth latch onto the waistband, pulling them down to release Cas’s cock.
Dean’s eyes flick up to him and his breath ghosts over his thigh and all Castiel can think is that he needs Dean, Dean—
“Dean,” he utters in a breath of pure want.
A smirk covers the hunter’s lips as he kisses and licks up his thighs, pants landing softly, tantalizingly across his balls.
His hips are straining, his breaths are shallow, and his arms are twisting as he keens at Dean’s treatment.
“Please,” he manages to ask.
Dean presses one last smiling kiss to his hip.
“As you wish.” And only for a moment does Castiel think he understands that reference before a choked whine rips itself from his throat as he’s completely engulfed and becomes a shivering, moaning mess, laid out bare for Dean.
Dean’s head comes up until his mouth is only covering the tip, which he then presses his tongue against, giving one swirl as Cas continues to moan and futilely buck.
“Dean—Dean I want to touch you.”
At this Dean pulls off and a whimper comes out of the back of his throat at the loss of contact rather than the gain.
“Please,” he adds, remembering Dean’s favour towards the word. It seems to work when a shiver runs down the man as his forest green eyes meet the storm of Cas’s.
“How would you like to touch me, Cas?”
A spark alights in Castiel’s mind as all the thoughts race around. He chooses a couple carefully, letting a slow soft expression spread across his face, still maintaining his eye contact with Dean.
“I would like to caress your face,” he starts with, letting idolatry lace his voice. “Have my fingers wander over your features, trace the patterns of the universe on your skin to see just how well they would match you.”
Dean’s blush deepens as his stare becomes almost absent. Entranced by Castiel’s words.
“I would then like to explore your jaw, your neck, feel the blood rushing to your cheeks.” His face has such a lovely glow to it.
“The spit you swallow.” Dean's throat moves almost on command.
“I would move to your collar, I would trace your freckles like the stars, mapping them with all the tools I have. I would rest my hands on your chest, hold the weight of your shoulders.” Only here does Cas move his eyes to the raised skin left in the shape of a hand print upon Dean’s freckled shoulder. “I would explore every part of you.”
“Cas…” Nothing more seems to be able to move past his lips.
“I want to…” He doesn’t know if there’s a word for it. “I want you.”
“That sounds covetous, Cas.”
He stops, looking deeper into Dean’s eyes, yet preparing to pull away.
“Am I asking too much?”
Dean looks at him oddly then. A million thoughts seem to flit behind his eyes, none of them Cas can catch and hold onto. However, within the moment Dean arrives at the eye of the storm and a calm expression comes over him.
“You don’t have to ask, Cas,” he speaks with wholly, with faith. “I’m already yours.”
That same calm settles atop Castiel’s chest as he smiles up at Dean.
“And I yours.”
Dean falls onto Cas and the moment their lips meet Cas knows there’s no one else he’d rather have. Nothing else he would give himself too.
When Dean pulls himself up to hover over Cas, his eyes ask a question. A question Cas knows the answer to.
“Open yourself for me, Dean.”
Dean nods, something sweet coming over his face. He reaches over to the bedside drawer and pulls out a bottle of lube.
He sits up to straddle Cas, his ass not quite close enough to brush Cas’s erection, but nearly. The anticipation could kill him—Lesser beings have tried.
Dean scissors himself open with two fingers over Cas. Then three. By four he’s moaning Cas’s name, a puddle of precum dribbling onto Cas’s stomach. Cas knows this is a show, the devilishly handsome man above him smirking and over exaggerating, yet he can’t complain as he strains further and further for any kind of purchase.
“Ca—ugnh—Cas I need you in me.”
“You’re ready?” Cas brings himself to ask.
“Yes.” The word is transcendental. Something Dean would not give to just anyone, something that is entirely meant for Cas.
“Y—Yes,” Cas echoes, not sure if it’s supposed to be an answer or reverence for the word, but Dean takes it as all the permission that Cas gives him.
Dean shifts to his knees, moving slightly back to position himself over Cas’s dick as his hand holds it firm and Cas tries to keep any noises in until he’s in.
He watches closely as Dean lowers onto him and he's drowned in, “yes, yes, yes.”
Once the hunter’s ass is settled firmly against his pelvis, the full length enveloped, he gives a quick clench before moving. Dean pulls nearly all the way off, a slow drag, before sinking back down. He continues like this for a while, getting used to the tight fit, adjusting and relaxing around Cas as the angel can only moan deeply beneath him. His hands claw, bunching the sheets for any amount of purchase, wishing for the handles of Dean’s hips. A whine escapes his throat.
“Everything okay, Baby?” Dean pants and Cas lets out another louder sound of pleasure.
“Need you. More. Cl-closer,” Are the only things Cas can ask of him as the slow drag starts gaining in speed and a rhythm is built between them, Cas chasing after the feeling of Dean.
The man lowers his chest to Cas’s, keeping a merciless back and forth motion as he dips his face to lock his lips over Cas’s. Their tongues tangle, entwining, fighting, dancing, just moving together in this space forever.
Cas is seeing stars and he finds it odd that he can do that from within the bunker but when he looks at Dean he realizes it’s because the sun is right in front of him.
Dean hips shift and hit a different angle causing him to moan deeply into their now sloppy kiss. His motions stutter but Cas is relentless as he continues to jut his hips back and forth, apparently hitting that same spot until Dean is chasing the feeling too.
The new rhythm has Cas leading and he cements this when he bites at Dean’s lip before pulling away, the tangle of movements causing a long groan to flow out of the hunter.
Between their stomachs Dean’s cock is nestled rubbing against a pool of precum. Cas, without the use of hands, gets creative. He moves his stomach and hips in tandem to press further against Dean’s cock as they slide together. The sound from the man is gorgeous.
Castiel does it again. And again. And again as Dean practically chants his name.
“Cas—Cas, I can’t. I’m gonna—”
Cas stops his motions and presses away from Dean’s cock eliciting a loud whine as he goes to sit up and bounce uselessly, unable to find the same satisfaction.
“Say please,” Cas rasps low.
Dean lessens his movements, only rutting as his body chases and needs every last bit of Castiel. He stares into the angel's eyes, his lips parted around spit and a deeper red than what’s painting his cheekbones. His eyes are slightly glassy but focused on the intensity within Castiel’s.
“Please, Cas—Yes.” He lowers himself again toward Cas, pressing a surprisingly chaste kiss against his jaw as his hips roll. “Please.” He sucks at the hollow of his neck. “Please.” He nips at his collarbone. “Please.” He reaches Cas’s shoulder, his own hand moving towards it with his lips. He presses a long kiss to the smoothly toned skin beneath and grips onto him. “Please.” He mutters and Cas is moving again.
“Dean.” His hand holds on tighter. “Dean.”
They’re movements hot, chasing the feeling of one another until the end. Dean’s moans tangle with Cas’s and it’s almost a new language the way it forms between them—Made entirely of breathless sounds.
Cas can feel Dean getting closer and closer and—
He cries out as his muscles stiffen and cum shoots out all over Cas’s chest causing the friction to intensify and at that Cas is simply unable to hold on any longer, following right behind, his hips pushed up until he’s practically holding Dean up with them.
His orgasm lasts an eon past what he thought possible as the tight space inside Dean gets filled by him. He clings to the pleasurable thought and the mattress below. It’s almost too much to handle being inside Dean as his nerves alight with need to be all the more closer.
But he’s stopped, he can’t get closer, his grace can’t get closer and for a moment he’s confused until he’s reminded of the metal binding him from Dean.
When he comes fully back to himself, Dean is yet to pull off his now limp dick, simply nibbling at the junction between Cas’s neck and shoulder to pass the time and maintain their connection.
“Dean,” Cas utters. His voice sounds rougher.
“Cas,” Dean says, voice just as rough, though the tone is soft.
“I want to touch you now.”
Dean nibbles for another moment before moving away, heaving off of Cas and standing. Cas watches appreciatively. It’s not a show, just a magnificent picture.
He bends over and rifles through his coat, drawing out a key. When Dean turns back to Cas, he stops to take him in. Cas’s top layers are pushed far back, revealing expanses of his skin, however now covered by Dean’s drying spend. His shoes and pants are still covering him too, though his pants have been pushed past his knees to bunch at his ankles. His hair he assumes is a mess. Dean looks at him in reverence.
He climbs atop Castiel once more, their eyes remaining locked as Dean drags him into a sitting position. Dean’s sitting in his lap, arms wrapped around Castiel in a tight hug, chin hooking over his shoulder as his hands find the cuffs. Castiel takes this opportunity to turn his head and spread kisses along Dean’s cheekbone, leading to the shell of his ear, over and behind it, tracing the line down to his sternocleidomastoid. By the time he reaches Dean’s sternum the cuffs have been released and his right hand is immediately resting upon Dean’s shoulder.
“Touch me like that Cas, we might have to go for round two,” Dean says breathlessly.
Cas’s grip tightens.
“Only if you tell me where you’d like to be touched.” Dean laughs.
“Such a gentleman.”
Cas moves back to Dean’s mouth and easily swallows the rest of his laughs.