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"Night, Sammy," said Dean as he trudged into the motel room he shared with Castiel.
It had been one of his longest days in months. Every inch of his body hurt, but damn it, the three of them finally ganked the werewolf. He dropped his duffle bag on the floor and stripped out of his jacket, hearing Castiel say good night to Sam in the parking lot as well. Two-thirty in the morning and a bed never looked so welcoming. A good four hours and he'd be ready for the next lead.
Castiel strode into the motel room and locked the door.
"You gonna mojo that coat clean? Looks like you got splattered by raw hamburger," Dean joked as he peeled out of his own shirt.
The angel said nothing, yet Dean felt those dark blue eyes combing over him as Castiel shrugged out of his trench coat and suit jacket. Strange static filled the room and he knew that sensation. He threw a questioning glance at Castiel, who clasped his hands behind his back, his stance squared and authoritative. No emotion reflected in his features but the expectant silence told Dean more than he needed to know.
"Not tonight, Cas. I'm ti--"
"--We have one unbreakable rule, Dean."
A flare of defiance erupted and he glared, but he recoiled in the same instant, knowing the other rules as well. He had planned on changing into baggy shorts and collapsing right in bed, but he only got so far as stripping out of his shirt. He stood motionless, bare-chested in jeans, unable to speak despite the overwhelming urge to tell Castiel to shove it and go to bed. He knew exactly what rule he broke.
"It's not like I meant to forget. It's been crazy today. You forget the werewolf that tried to snack on your heart?"
"We have one unbreakable rule, Dean. Don't make me say it again."
The way his deep voice sharpened yet lowered in a commanding tone brought out Dean's submission like a reflex. Castiel never had to raise his voice. Lowering it to a gravelly place somehow brushed Dean's skin and made him eager to surrender, though the angel hadn't even touched him yet. But oh, the promise of touching existed. Being taken apart and pieced back together again, never having to make decisions, having total trust to simply obey.
Castiel observed Dean in silence through clear eyes, not even the slightest hint of confusion or awkwardness. Such moments came naturally to him. He drew out the silence. It broke Dean down just enough to begin the process of compliance. Their ritual was a private one - a series of rules that gave Dean boundaries, consequences, and unimaginable rewards. Following the rules brought a certain set of rewards, while breaking the rules brought a certain set of consequences. There was no room for the unexpected, no room for people to hurt each other, die, or fall apart. The trust required within Dean felt liberating. He trusted Castiel like no other creature in the universe.
"Undress, Dean," he said eventually.
Wordlessly, the hunter faced the angel and lowered his eyes as he unzipped his jeans, kicking them off to the side. His navy blue boxer briefs came next. Naked and already filling with arousal, he waited.
Castiel strolled a circle around Dean perfectly at his leisure and appraised what he'd previously called his superlative human body - a thing to be worshiped. As he rounded Dean's back, fingertips trailed a path of electricity across his shoulderblades. His head tipped back slightly with the promise of deeper touch, but all too suddenly, the emptiness of separation awoke him.
"No," the angel said. "You don't feel pleasure until I allow it."
"Cas--"
"--Silence."
The perfect control of Castiel faced him barely an inch from his face. Heat radiated from inside his white dress shirt and infiltrated Dean's personal space the way it had for years before - never touching, just the everlasting tease.
"Undress me," he ordered.
Having an order, a task, brought out a faint breath of relief from Dean's lips as he crouched and tugged off Castiel's shoes and socks. He set them aside and, rising, his hands tugged the blue tie free of Castiel's neck. He flung it on the floor near the shoes and worked open his dress shirt buttons. Quicker than lightning, Castiel snatched his wrists, the grip in a wickedly tight warning. His head tilted just slightly.
"Is that how you treat my possessions?" he muttered.
"No," Dean replied.
"No, what?"
"No, my love." It had begun with 'sir' months ago, but Castiel preferred 'my love' to remind Dean of what they were to each other, why Dean surrendered his trust. 'My love' was much harder of a phrase for Dean but he knew it pleased the angel. He learned to use it.
Castiel released his wrists. He stooped to the floor and retrieved the discarded tie, folding it nearly on the dresser. With equal care, he unbuttoned the white shirt and folded it on the dresser as well.
The belt came next and the pants dropped to the floor. A rigid pillar outlined in Castiel's loose boxers demanded touching and Dean couldn't stop the need to palm him through the thin fabric. Breath hitched in Castiel's throat and his hips jerked into the hunter's well-worn hand, but he regained composure before letting it go too far. He swatted Dean's hand away and peered at him in a wordless warning. The dark pants joined the rest of his clothes in a neat pile on the dresser, along with his boxers.
"On your knees," he commanded.
Dean's eyes flickered over his face, not complying with immediate haste. That was his way. Sometimes he didn't even know why he defied and rebelled, but a lifetime of doing things his way was hard to undo. He wanted to be in control at all times, knowing it came easily to him, but he had broken the most important rule.
"We can wait here all night, Dean," he said calmly.
A few seconds ticked by as Dean wrestled his defiance down. He lowered to the floor, the rough motel carpet scratching his knees. His hands clasped behind his back and his gaze fixed on the floor, just the way their rules dictated.
Castiel circled him slowly again. He felt himself being measured and appraised when the only thing he wanted was to be touched. The air moved out of sight suddenly as Castiel crouched around his back. Pain ripped Dean's scalp as fingers grabbed a chunk of his hair and yanked his head back. Throat exposed to the room, Castiel's free hand traced a line along his Adam's apple to his jugular. He leaned in so close that Dean felt the warmth of his breath on his neck, making the rest of his body chill with the lack of touch.
"You were very misbehaved today, weren't you, Dean?" the angel murmured in his ear.
"Yes, my love," Dean replied hoarsely.
"Yes," Castiel agreed. "And what rule did you break?" As he spoke, he dropped the free hand from Dean's throat to his thigh, creeping along until his fingers latched around the base of his cock. A slow stroke along his entire length distracted from the question.
"I... uh..." Dean licked his lips, his focus going hazy as as Castiel loosely stroked his cock, the other hand still in his hair. His hips rolled against his will and a strangled moan sneaked out into the room.
Abrupt pain grounded Dean the moment Castiel tugged his hair, jerking him back to reality. The pleasure radiating from his raging hard cock fought the pain of being gripped roughly by his hair. Warring sensations meant he'd be trapped in limbo, unable to come but unable to calm down until Castiel decided what he deserved. Stuttering breath pushed the words down his throat. He couldn't speak.
Castiel's tight fingers pulled his hair again. His voice firmed up. "Dean, what rule did you break?"
"I... I didn't say it today," he managed to stammer, unconsciously pushing his hips into the angel's fist.
A brief blissful reward seared Dean's neck as Castiel kissed and sucked a light bruise over his pulse. His grip on the hunter's hair loosened, allowing the flood of pleasure to overtake him. Appropriate responses met with appropriate rewards. He lost himself in gasping moans.
"What should you have said?"
Dean felt no desire to talk. The focus on seeking some release of that pressure consumed his thoughts. He failed to answer the question, which pulled Castiel away from his body. All too suddenly, the coldness of not being touched physically ached and he swallowed back dry, begging words in his throat. Castiel's palm between his shoulderblades shoved Dean forward in clear punishment for not answering the question. He caught himself before his face hit the floor. Breathing heavily, he wrestled the idea to jerk himself off and be done with it, but that, he knew, would lead to a week of not being touched at all.
"Get the lube," said Castiel. He stood upright and ripped back the bed blankets.
Dean did as he was told, rifling through his bag for the bottle, and he brought it to the bed. He knelt on the mattress but Castiel shook his head and pointed to his spot on the floor. Confused, the hunter hesitated until the angel's brow arched in a silent warning. He wasn't sure what was planned for him as he slid off the bed to the floor once again.
Dropping the pillow, Castiel knelt on it while Dean had nothing but awful motel carpet. "You will learn to say it under any circumstance and any distraction," he said. "Do you understand?"
"Yes, my love," Dean replied.
His immediate response was rewarded with a kiss. The angel gripped his jaw in both hands and crushed his lips, sweeping his tongue in possessive, wet lines over his lips and through his mouth. Dean sucked the plumpness of his angel's lower lip as he pulled away with a slippery pop.
"You know what to do."
Nodding, Dean flipped open the tube and squeezed an abundant measure of clear gel over his fingers. He set the tube aside, gladly crawling close to Castiel. The lube slipped warmly between Dean's fingers and over his palm as he began coating Castiel's unyielding, solid cock in enticingly slow strokes. He risked the defiance of looking him in the eye, unable to resist watching his lids droop in the undeniable indulgence of sensation. It escalated into a battle of wills as Castiel sucked his lower lip between his teeth and stifled a groan. Dean stared, his expression frozen in the hard glare of a hunter, eyes cold and jaw clenched. He wanted control. Yet he wanted his angel to control.
Castiel tugged his hand free and pushed him back with a wordless nod. Now came the worship of the hunter's superlative human body. Dean's cock twitched in anticipation as he laid back on the floor, knees pulled up toward the ceiling and legs spread wide for the angel's view. He squired another measure of lube and took hold of his own cock. Jolts of aching pleasure made him want to rush to the edge, but he fought it, knowing Castiel wanted slow worship.
Something about being watched, openly watched, made Dean preen. His eyes slipped shut and his bit his lip as he coated himself. Hips rolled slowly into his fist and he twisted over the head of his cock until he moaned louder. And then he switched hands, sliding the glistening, slick fingers to his ass, circling his hole. The first finger felt like electrical impulses directly on his prostate, giving himself that mild relief. He finger fucked himself faster than usual. Although the second finger burned, he couldn't stop.
A rapid succession of stifled groans slipped past his mouth, expecting Castiel to stop him at any second. Heat coiled in his stomach with the third finger. For sure, he would be stopped. He had to be. The road to making himself come appeared within reach. If Castiel didn't take control again...
Wet lips trailed his inner thigh, shocking him off that road for a moment. Castiel mouthed his thigh and flicked his tongue over Dean's shaft whenever his hand left an open bit of flesh.
"Say it, Dean," his gravelly voice ordered.
The hunter's throat felt dry, his tongue thick in his gasping mouth. Speak now, when he teetered on the edge? Except he hadn't been given permission to come, he suddenly remembered through the fog. He didn't know how long he could hold back.
"Dean," the angel's voice sharpened, "say it."
Nothing intelligible emerged from Dean's lips. Maybe he could when he came. Maybe, his balls tightening, his breath shortening...
"Stop." The single word cut through him.
He didn't stop, though, and Castiel responded to the blatant disobedience with rarely employed punishment. His wrist flicked and, abruptly, Dean's hands threw over his head by unseen forces. He struggled but he knew Castiel had used his grace to stop him and lock his wrists to the floor above his head. The misery of being denied an orgasm when it felt within centimeters left him writhing and whimpering pitifully on the floor.
The wicked, harsh crack of Castiel's palm against Dean's toned ass delivered the point. "When I say stop, you stop."
Tempering the pain, long, torturous kisses dotted Dean's abdominal muscles up along his chest until Castiel hovered over him. Dark blue eyes took stock of the hunter, almost completely deconstructed in his hands.
"Three little words once a day. That's our rule, isn't it?"
Dumbly, Dean nodded.
"You haven't behaved enough to enjoy the bed. Get up," he ordered as he shifted to kneel on his pillow. "Turn around. You will learn your lesson if we're here until daylight."
The unseen grace restraints released Dean's wrists. He got up as instructed, muscles all reduced to tender, jumpy nerve-endings, and he turned his back to Castiel with his knees openly planted on the carpet. His ass stung, his cock ached with pressure, and the remnants of pain lingered on his scalp. But he submitted. Willingly. He trusted. Wholly. The truth was saying those three words never came easily and he needed his ego and insecurity both to be completely deconstructed to say it.
Dean felt hands slide around his hips and the angel's cock tease his ass. As he unconsciously pushed back on it, fingers dug into his hip bones and forced stillness. Castiel pushed into him with little care for the burn and only mild attention to the resistance.
Soon, his hips rhythmically curled into Dean, bending him over into the most submissive position. His hand snaked around him, scratching up his chest, and hooking into his shoulder to hold him in place. The angel rocked swiftly, little groans increasing into raspy moans for long, drawn out minutes. God, Dean needed to come but the handprint on his ass reminded him that he wasn't allowed. He knew Castiel rode him mercilessly into his own orgasm though. He knew it wouldn't be long.
"Say it," the angel's voice growled even lower. "Say you love me."
The perfect moment of deconstructed clarity arrived. No more ego. No more insecurity. No more questions over the future, or pressure to save lives. No more memories of Hell. No more torture. Just the two of them alive, together, and broken down into perfect trust.
"I love you, Cas," rasped Dean. "I love you."
Deep breaths expanded and deflated Castiel's chest. "I know," he whispered. "Say it again."
"I..." He couldn't breathe. Dizzy, he actually thought the intensity might kill him.
A loving hand passed over Dean's spine as their hips snapped together in thrusts timed just right to hit the most glorious spots. "Say it again and I'll let you come."
The promise of rewarded release pushed him over the edge. "I love you so much," Dean said, the last words swallowed by his groan.
Permission felt like the levee breaking behind the power of a flood. Dean's voice ripped a raw path out of his throat as his body clenched so forcefully that his muscles ached. White hot bolts of come spurted on the floor as Dean fisted his own cock in the last moments. He felt Castiel's hips stutter behind him as he cried out, filling Dean in bursts.
He nearly collapsed but pulled himself back from the sticky mess on the carpet. Low chuckling rolled from his chest as he caught his breath. The poor maid. He felt bad for her... but not that bad. Both of them made their way to the bed, moving slowly, weakly as if drugged. Flopping back, side by side, they took their time regaining composure and coming down off the high.
"Did you learn your lesson?" asked Castiel, a smirk appearing.
"Probably not." A matching smirk found Dean's mouth. "Do I ever learn?"
"No. You're rather hard-headed." A deep, cleansing breath passed through the angel as he stretched on the bed, beautifully nude and lazy like a feline.
Maybe it was exhaustion or maybe it was the endorphins but Dean rolled on his side, resting his head on his folded arm. "Cas, you know, I..."
Castiel's head rolled to the side and hooded blue eyes peered curiously up at Dean's face. He fell silent as if sensing the difficulty Dean had with telling him certain things.
"I... I never could say it to other people. The I love you thing." Dean shrugged and averted his eyes, hoping to diminish the weight of such a conversation. "I tried a few times with Lisa but it didn't feel right. I mean, I cared about her a lot but, you know." He shrugged a second time. Finally, green eyes met blue, looking down on his angel's patient, peaceful features. "I know you usually have to force it out of me, but I want you to know that I do ... you know ... love you. More than anything."
His smile crinkled his eyes and flattened his lips against his teeth. Hints of dimples appeared beneath his dark stubble. "I love you too, Dean."
Dean returned his smile, though it became mischievous. "You know you probably left a bruise on my ass and I have rug burns on my knees."
"You broke our rule," he countered with a renewed sparkle in his eye. "You know what happens when you break our rules."