Author's Note: sedatedartist did my homework for me (it was a drawing, the teacher knew about it, I suck at art) and I promised to pay her back in a fic of her choice. This is that fic.
The first time Dean sees the guy, he's convinced the guy is a sub.
He sits by himself in the corner of the club, no sub kneeling at his feet and no Dom collaring on him. But he's quiet and has sort of an unassuming air to him and if Dean wasn't just killing time until Sammy got off the graveyard shift at the hospital, he would probably try to find a kindred spirit with the guy, since he looks lonely. As it is, his phone is vibrating and he needs to get going. Slamming back the last of his beer, he pulls out his phone and lets his brother know he's on his way.
The next time he sees him, it's a few weeks later at the same club, but now Dean is here to have fun. His shirt is soft and basically see through and he knows his nipples are poking out a bit, the fabric rubbing against them making him shiver in the best way. His pants are tight enough to draw attention but not too tight as to make it difficult to pull them off should he go home with a Dom tonight. He takes care not to wear any jewelry, wanting to make sure the Doms know he's available.
He strolls into the club, not catching anyone's eye as he makes his way to the bar and orders two shots. Downing them quickly, he tosses a bill down and nods to the bartender before finally turning to survey the room. It's crowded tonight and everyone is pressing against everyone else. More than a few people, men and women alike, are watching him, but he still avoids their eyes. He likes to take in the scene for a bit before really looking for anyone, but tonight his eyes are drawn to the corner of the room where the man is once again sitting. His eyes meet Dean's and he holds them. The room is too dark to really make out any details, but Dean feels his breathing speed up and heat rush through his body. Unable to keep looking at him, Dean tears his eyes away, swallowing thickly as he orders two more shots.
It doesn't take long before he's approached by a beautiful woman. "Hey, sweetheart," she purrs, trailing her nails slowly across shoulders.
Dean sits back on stool his sitting on and looks her over. She's short but makes up for her lack of height with long heels that would probably feel hot as fuck digging into him, her long brown hair loose and flowing around her shoulder. Her lips draw his eyes down and he licks his own subconsciously; they're plump and red and look soft as pillows.
But she's not what he's looking for tonight. "Hello."
"Are you looking for a good time?"
Dean laughs, belly deep and his head thrown back. "Does that terrible line actually work?"
She laughs too, shaking her head. "Only when they're really drunk." They chat amicably for a few minutes, Dean making sure he's projecting how uninterested he is. She's not pushy and she's funny; she winks at him before leaving to work the crowd. His eyes follow her until they catch the man across the room again.
He's still watching Dean.
Dean feels himself hearing up again and looks away. Two more shots.
And then it goes downhill from there.
The Doms come at him like piranhas when there's blood in the water after the first one opens the gate. As soon as he's brushed one off, another took their place. The night quickly lost its fun and he was contemplating leaving when a large man slid into the bar stool next to him. Dean turns a bit, putting his back to him and hoping the guy is just trying to get a drink.
Don't look at him, don't look at him, don't-
"Hey, I'm talking to you!" A hand grabs his arm and jerks him around. He does his best to glare at the Dom, but he's quickly lost his bravado after the draining of dealing with so many Doms tonight.
"Don't touch me."
"Hey, pretty thing, I'm just trying to have a friendly little chat," the man growls, his hand tightening on Dean's arm. He tugs on it, wanting to get loose, but that only makes it him grip tighter still.
"I don't want to talk to you; let me go!"
"I don't think I want to-"
"He said he's not interested," a deep voice booms over the music and they both turn to see the man from the corner, glaring at the man holding Dean. "Let him go."
The man does and smirks as he stands, easily half a foot taller than the other guy. "And since when are you his Dom?" He feints to the left as he goes in for a punch, but the guy is ready and, in a move Dean doesn't really see, it happens so fast, he dispatches the guy, leaving him in a heap on the floor before signaling the security guards. They haul the guy up and, with a nod to the guy, take the man away. Society has strict rules about Doms and unwanted advances.
He turns to Dean. "Are you okay?"
"Uh, yeah, thanks..." His voice goes up at the end, a question, if the guy wants to answer it.
"Castiel." He, Castiel, holds out his hand, which Dean shakes slowly.
"You've been watching me."
"That doesn't really answer my question."
"You didn't really ask one."
Dean breaks his gaze away from the dark eyes staring him down. "Why?"
"Would you like to dance?"
If there was any denying this guy was a Dom after how he'd knocked out the other guy, it disappeared at the question. Dean found himself being led out to the dance floor, the quiet, unassuming man oozing power and dominance in the most subtle way. Their bodies pressed close together and they move smoothly together. A hand cups the back of his neck and Dean finds himself quickly becoming lost in the feeling. His body become loose, boneless, and his inside scream to get closer, to allow this man to Dominate him. His knee gently nudges between Castiel's, asking permission that's granted and then they're as close as they can get with clothes on.
Castiel leads them in dance after dance, simply with his hand on Dean's neck and it's all he can do not to kneel right here on the floor. "Please," he manages to gasp against the sweaty skin of Castiel's neck.
"Are you sure?" Dean nods, panting slightly. "Words, beautiful."
"Yes, Sir, please, I want to go home with you."
It's a whirlwind after that. Dean's still a bit under, but he catches the address that Castiel gives the cabbie and shoots off a quick text to his brother to let him know, just in case. The ride after that is a blur as Castiel whispers low in his ear, keeping him right at the edge of going completely under. They stumble out of the cab and into the doors of a huge apartment building, the doorman holy crap, he has a doorman holding it open for them. As soon as they're on the elevator and the doors slide shut, Dean is pressed against the wall. A set of teeth sink into his neck and Dean shudders, his cock throbbing in his tight pants.
"What are your limits?" Castiel asks, stepping back and staring down at him.
"Um, I, uh, the-the, pee and stuff like that, I, uh, I'm not really into that, but, um, I'm pretty open to most, ah, other stuff." Dean's actually pretty proud that he was able to get through that; this man has an effect on him that no one else ever has.
"I agree. Do you want a contract or do you trust me?"
Dean looks up at the word, blinking in surprise as he automatically says, "Yes." He's not one to jump the gun like that, but Castiel radiates trust to Dean.
"Good. Is the color system okay in lieu of a safeword or would you rather have a safeword?"
"Color system is okay with me. Green means go, yellow means pause, and red means stop."
"Good boy." Dean practically purrs as one hand comes up to card through his hair and the elevator dings, signaling their arrival. Dean follows Castiel as he opens the door to his penthouse (penthouse? Jesus) and gestures for Dean to come inside. He gets a brief glance at the decor of the dimly lit apartment before he's being gently pulled into what is apparently Castiel's bedroom. Even that he doesn't get much of a look at because he's suddenly pushed against the door and Castiel's body is pressed against him from thigh to chest and it's all Dean can do to breathe; Castiel is all that's holding him up as it is.
There are no words to describe what Dean feels the first time Castiel kisses him. His lips are soft and unyielding as they cover Dean's, moving slowly before they pull back to let teeth nip at Dean's bottom lip. He can't hold back his whine, trying to follow Castiel. He's quickly hushed as his wishes are obliged. His tongue flicks across Dean's lip and he eagerly opens, his heart pounding in his chest as Castiel explores his mouth; he's practically gone under just from foreplay (and not much of it), something that has never happened to him before. There's hot, moist breath on his throat and he wonders vaguely when they stopped kissing.
Castiel bites his neck, harder than before, and Dean's afraid he's going to come in his pants; we haven't even started yet, calm down. "It's okay," Castiel whispers into his neck, lips brushing over the skin he had just been worrying between his teeth.
"You can come whenever you want."
"Want to- wai- need you inside, please," Dean managed to stutter out through the fluff in his head.
"If that's what you want, beautiful boy."
A nose nudged his ear before the lobe was sucked into Castiel's mouth. "Call me Cas."
One of his legs was hiked over Cas' hip and Cas stepped in closer, pressing their cocks together through the thick material of their pants. "Do you have any idea how much I want you? How many times I've seen you at the club, letting all those Doms rub all over you and knowing how much more I could make you feel?" Dean groans, arching forward. "Mm, you're so eager, so desperate for me to take you, aren't you? Do you want me to fuck you?"
"Want me to tie your arms behind your back and lean you over my bed and just take you the way you so deeply need?"
Dean whimpers at the image, the thought of the hot breath in his ear playing over the back of his neck as he's fucked roughly. "Yes, please!"
The warmth of the body in front of him is suddenly gone and he opens eyes he doesn't remember closing. Cas is digging in a drawer next to his bed. When he turns around, there are a set of cuffs in his hands, thick and black. "Take off your clothes," he commands, and it takes a few seconds for the words to penetrate into Dean's brain before he's scrambling to pull off the offending items.
"Come to me." He hesitates because some Doms like subs to crawl and some don't and he just doesn't want to disappoint Cas. He's just decided on crawling when Cas speaks again, "You can walk."
"Thank you," Dean murmurs, tentatively nuzzling Cas' neck when he reaches him and internally preening when he's rewarded with another good boy. Cas turns him, sliding his hands slowly down Dean's arms until he reaches his wrists, grasping them gently and pulling them behind his back. The cuffs are wonderfully soft as they're locked into place and Dean shivers, his cock twitching where it's sticking straight out in front of him. Cas turns him back around and slowly helps him lean forward until his chest thumps against the bedspread. His eyes don't even pick out details as he focuses on the sounds of Cas moving behind him. Warm, calloused hands cup his ass, rolling the cheeks between his palms and pulling them apart. He clenches on reflex, but Cas makes no move to do anything else, just keeps palming him.
"You're so beautiful everywhere," Cas says, his deep voice low and intimate. "Can I finger you?"
"Yes." Dean is aching to be filled, has since before he got to the club, but now it's with Cas and he goes boneless as two slick fingers trace his hole. He hadn't even heard the lube bottle open, but the fingers are well covered and the lube is warm, and he moans as one pushes into him. "You can do two; I can handle it." He likes the bit of pain that comes with a fast stretch, would have let Cas fuck him without any stretching at all, but he gets the feeling that Cas likes to be thorough with his partners. He moans as Cas does as he said, fucking him slowly with two fingers.
"Do you like it rough, beautiful?" Dean moans again, his hole clenching around the torturously slow fingers still moving in and out of him. "I need you to answer me. I want this to be good for you, too."
"Yes, I like it rough."
"Good boy." The fingers speed up, roughly fucking into him. A third one slips in and Cas doesn't even pause for him to adjust. "Don't go under yet, beautiful."
It's a struggle because Dean is right on the ledge of going fully under, but he takes a deep breath as best he can and focuses on Cas. "Yes, Sir."
The fingers don't stop until they're gone and the blunt tip of Cas' cock, slick from latex and lube, is pressing against him. "I want to ask you something and I want you to give me a real answer, do you understand?"
Cas leans over and Dean shivers at feel of the clothes Cas is still wearing press against the length of his body. He whispers in Dean's ear and Dean's eyes clench shut as the image washes over him; a whimper tears from his throat.
"Yes, please, I want that, Sir."
His reward for answering is Cas pushing into him, one hard stroke that fills him completely and he tips over the edge, falling under. The world becomes distant, the feel of the fabric and the scratch of the zipper against the back of his thighs, the tugging feel on his cuffs. Everything is hazy and perfect and he floats. His cock is ignored, save for it rubbing against the bed, but he doesn't mind, doesn't care, as he drops deeper than he ever has before. It's a glorious haze, shapes floating in front of him and thoughts streaming out of his mind before he can even think to grasp them; all he knows is the wonderful feeling of Cas fucking him.
And then a hand comes up to cup his throat, slowly tightening. It doesn't go past his limit, stops at a point before he needs to signal a pause. His breathing becomes slower and slower as his oxygen is cut off. Spots dance before his eyes and suddenly he can breath again, taking in a slow breath before the hand tightens again. It continues for several minutes, ecstasy rolling over him in waves, like an orgasm that lasts minutes instead of seconds, before Cas lets go. Dean vaguely feels his arms come around Dean's waist and it's the sudden hard pounding of Cas' hips against Dean's ass that starts pulling him out of being under. The blanket beneath him is wet and he idly wonders when he came when Cas pulls him flush against him, his breath hot against the sweaty skin of Dean's neck, and it's just as perfect as he had imagined.
"Was that okay?" Cas murmurs into his ear, his voice rough and low.
"Mm, perfect," Dean slurs back, already almost asleep, though he doesn't know if he'll be staying the night; some Doms don't like that.
"Good. You were perfect, too, beautiful," Cas tells him before he pulls back, carefully sliding his cock out. Dean can hear him getting rid of the condom and pulling something out of the drawer, and then he's back. "Do you want me to leave the cuffs on?"
"That's not what I asked."
"Yes, Sir, I want them on."
"Good boy." A hand pets over his ass before a warm cloth is wiping the tacky lube off of his ass. Dean finds himself floating in his mind a bit while Cas cleans up, but comes back when the cuffs are unlocked and he's being helped up. Cas skillfully maneuvers him onto the bed and begins massaging his shoulders and arms, a little locked up and sore from being cuffed for so long.
"Will you stay the night?" Dean is almost asleep when Cas whispers the question to him, the first time he hears Cas sound anything but confident, and he hums happily, snuggling closer and drifting off, feeling safe.
Maybe one day, you'll stay forever, Cas thinks.