LUST|| Supernatural

Catiel In Cuffs [Destiel] (Part 3)

Author: rosie_berber

"Come."

Castiel's hands slowly inch their way forward across the cool cement, left and right shifting in the small amount of movement afforded by the shackles. Staggered breaths fall from chapped lips, less from struggle than from full-fledged intoxication with the fully agreeable position he finds himself in. Every part of his body on board as he slowly crawls, directed by the sapphire silk he finds cutting across his cheekbones as Dean leads the way.

"Stay."

The command is made as Dean's hand lets go of the makeshift leash, pushing at the archives' shelves to get towards the dungeon, a most fitting setting for the evening's upcoming activities. Castiel is certain his obedience is not yet an issue as he feels his hardness fighting with the front of his trousers.

As the shelves part, Dean roughly grabs at the handcuffs to pull Castiel back onto his feet, the angel stumbling towards the interrogation seat usually reserved for whatever Big Bad the Winchesters had unwittingly released upon the world that year. With determined resolve, Dean quickly strips Castiel of his clothing, piece by piece. The pentagram on the floor is soon obscured by the pieces of Castiel's armour, with the suit and shirt and yes, even the tie the angel was learning to love for a whole host of new reasons. All but the bright orange boxer briefs that do little to hide Castiel's titillation at his current predicament, a small stained spot one indication of his enthusiastic consent to the role he has found himself in.

Dean walks behind the angel, landing two calloused hands on the hard muscle of Castiel's shoulders.

"Sit."

The demand is gruffly grunted. Without thinking, Castiel obliges, shuddering from the cold steel of Dean's voice as he settles into the chair.

Castiel's wrists are unsecured only for the manacles to be relocked behind his back. Coils of hemp rope quickly snake themselves around his chest and feet, firmly and intently binding him to the metal chair. As masterful as Dean might be with a knot, Castiel knows that, if he was at full power, if these handcuffs do not dull his abilities, he will easily be able to use his grace to break free from the restraints. As it stands, he certainly is in no rush to do so.

Especially as Dean abruptly lowers the zipper of his own jeans, quickly working his own stiff cock from the denim into his hand, fingers gripping tightly, pumping, putting on a show for his prisoner. His other hand quickly finds itself entangled in Castiel's hair, grasping tightly at the strands to take the angel's head under his control. He tugs firmly and forcefully - hints of pain finding their way to Castiel's scalp as his eyes are directed towards Dean's thickness throbbing near the angel's panting mouth. Castiel's tongue reaches outward, desperately trying to make contact with the small amount of precome glistening on Dean's swollen head. He longs for its length to make its way past his lips and down his throat. He is damn close to begging for it. Not that Dean needs Castiel's words to know precisely what he has an appetite for in the moment. For a moment, the hunter obliges, letting his dick graze across Castiel's lips, pulsating and warm. No sooner has Castiel had his wish granted than Dean pulls back, concealing himself once more beneath dark blue fabric, only the outline of his erection now visible.

A frustrated gasp works its way through Castiel's lungs as he instinctively lunges towards that of which he has been deprived, the fibres of the rope burning against his chest.

"Heel."

Dean is not happy with the angel's impatience, thrusting his hand hard into Castiel's chest to keep the angel at bay. Castiel readies himself for whatever discipline Dean is preparing to dish out, nearly gleeful in his anticipation for a smack to a surface to his skin. Anything to dull the resounding want coursing through his system.

He is shocked with the sensation Dean chooses, certain the man has lost sight of their mission and praising every deity he knows for the detour.

A hand tightly grips Castiel's cock through cotton, only to be followed by the warmth of an eager mouth once it is free. Green eyes lock onto blue as Dean slowly savours Castiel, several long sucks from head to base, nestling his nose into hair before coming back up for air. A whimper finds its way through gritted teeth as his body trembles, unable to do anything other than succumb to the power Dean is wielding over him.

"Close," Castiel manages to mumble, hips thrusting up to mimic the sentiment, seeking the oblivion the back of Dean's throat promises. He can see his release upon the horizon just as Dean's mouth tightly moves back up his shaft, a small kiss finding its way to the top of Castiel's slit.

Castiel can taste his own saltiness on the hunter's lips as Dean departs from the dungeon with a peck, leaving the angel at the brink with no recourse. The pain of unfulfilled arousal tells Castiel he may have have underestimated Dean's capacity for punishment.

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No gifs today..... sowwyyyy.

mk Bye ._.