RockStarPeach

Title: More Than You Give
Pairing: Dean/Cas
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 4000
Summary: Dean has needs and Castiel has a body, so when Castiel can see that Dean is getting overwhelmed by pressure and hopelessness, he does what he can to help relieve the stress. He’s the cause of a lot of it, after all, even if Dean doesn’t know it yet. Set during S6.
A/N: Written for the prompt Dean uses him as a human shaped dildo, fucking himself very insistently on his cock and paying little attention to Castiel's own reactions. No dub-con., but it didn't turn out exactly like that. Because I suck :P


***

Castiel listens to Dean’s fourth frustrated sigh since he’s shown up, watches the high line of his shoulders get even higher as he slams his empty glass down on the small kitchenette table. He steps closer to Dean, stands at his back and places his hand at the nape of Dean’s neck, fingers resting against his skin and the short, soft strands of hair.

Dean’s muscles stiffen further and Castiel lets out his own small sigh, lets his hand drop and takes a step back. Dean’s been reading the same book for over an hour now, the page for nearly half that time, hoping for answers to magically appear and waiting for a phone call from a contact of Bobby’s. Sam is in another town, another state following another lead and Dean is making himself sick with frustration and desperation and worry.

And Castiel can’t fix it, not like he wishes he could.

Things between the two of them aren’t like they were before – there’s tension, a thin strand made up of trust and affection that’s close to snapping, that’s already fraying and worn, probably beyond repair. It keeps stretching, tighter and tighter and they both refuse to let go, refuse to end this… whatever this is between them. Because whatever distrust, no matter how deserved, that’s there now – no matter how far apart they get or how fast they run toward different goals… no matter how many times Castiel lies to Dean…

No matter how much Dean abuses him and takes him for granted, no matter what else is there, getting in the way, Castiel loves Dean. He’s been oddly drawn to him since the second he saw his soul, shredded and torn, a thousand shades of red and beautiful. The love didn’t come until much later, or perhaps it was just Castiel’s understanding of it that was delayed, but the draw, that’s never stopped, not once and Castiel doesn’t think it ever will.

He hates to see Dean suffer, even if sometimes he believes Dean deserves it. He hates it even more right now, hates how hopeless Dean is, how worried he is about his brother and how much he hurts. Much as he’d like to think that it’s because of love, he knows it’s probably his guilt talking.

It was probably guilt that drove him to first offer himself to Dean all those months ago and guilt that keeps him coming back to do the same, over and over.

“You seem tense,” Castiel says, voice pitched low so as not to startle, not to disturb. He wants to be here for Dean, wants to be here with Dean, but not if Dean doesn’t want him. They so rarely get to spend any time with one another and the time they do have is becoming increasingly tainted.

“Gee, ya think?” Dean snaps as he turns around, shutting the book with his hand flat on the cover so hard the vibrations shake the table and the dull thud echoes off the walls.

“Is there something wrong?” Castiel asks him, even though he knows there’s more wrong than either of them can ever say.

Dean narrows his eyes and curls his lip up slightly, that look he gives when he can’t quite understand how Castiel doesn’t understand. “You mean besides everything?”

“That was a stupid question,” Castiel tells him, tilts his chin down slightly and lets his eyes flash to the floor for just a moment, a calculated move. “I’m sorry.”

“No, you…” Dean sighs and shakes his head, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fuck. Sorry. Just… not a good day, you know? Not a good fucking year. Couple of years.”

“I can go,” he offers, even though it’s the last thing he wants. He’s almost certain it won’t be long before he loses Dean completely and he wants to squeeze out these last moments together, even if all he can do is watch Dean fall apart.

“No,” Dean says again, stands up this time and presses the palm of his hand to Castiel’s jaw. “No, stay.”

He leans forward and presses a chaste kiss to Castiel’s lips, pulls back with a strained half-smile. Castiel wants to follow, wants to press his lips to Dean’s again and again, wants Dean to use him so that they both feel better, but he doesn’t. Castiel never pushes, never takes.

He offers, gives himself to Dean for Dean’s pleasure when Dean needs release and Castiel would spend hours, would spend eternity in Dean’s arms, but when it comes to sex, Castiel makes no demands.

Sex isn’t something he feels any particular way about. It’s nice enough, he supposes, in that he’s close to Dean, that he can feel Dean against him, Dean’s mind and his body and his soul happy, or at least temporarily distracted. It’s nice because it’s nice for Dean, because while Castiel doesn’t find conventional pleasure in the carnal, he knows that Dean does and that’s more than enough to keep Castiel coming back for more.

“Come on,” Dean says, smile fading slightly but becoming more honest as he takes Castiel’s hand and tugs him toward his bed. “Let’s just lie down for a bit. See if we can catch some monster flick on cable. Pretend it’s not real.”

“If that’s what you want,” Castiel says, following him willingly, always willingly.

“What I want?” Dean asks on a forced chuckle. “What I want is for your damn family to take your pissing contest somewhere else. What I want is for every goddamn evil thing in creation to find something else to do besides fuck with us. What I want is one decent night’s sleep and to stop worrying that Sam’s wall is gonna come crashing down and kill him.

“What I want… Shit, Cas. I’m just so fuckin’ tired, I don’t even know what I want anymore.”

Castiel bites down on the urge to tell Dean that he can’t afford to be tired, that there are horrible things coming, there are always horrible things coming and this time Castiel might be one of them. He can’t say any of that. He can’t tell Dean anything, needs to hide from him, keep his true motives and allegiances secret. He can’t handle the thought of seeing of the look in Dean’s eyes when he finds out, not before he has to.

He doesn’t tell Dean that he’s not the only one hurting, not the only one desperate and alone and trying to do the right thing.

Dean picks up the remote with one hand as he uses the other to pull Castiel against him, settles him into Dean’s chest with an arm around his shoulders and Castiel feels a sudden wave of emotion. Love, sorrow, desire, regret. They were all foreign concepts, before he met Dean.

“I want…” Dean continues after he’s stopped on something black and white with a screaming woman and some kind of swamp creature. He pulls Castiel closer and presses a kiss to the top of his head. “I want this, Cas. Want you.”

“Have me,” Castiel answers, because it’s the most obvious answer in the world. Dean wants something that’s in his power to give and there’s no question that he’ll give it.

Dean looks at him, turns his head and looks him straight on and it’s almost too much for a moment before the corner of his mouth pulls and Castiel can actually feel Dean’s chest tighten, reaches out to touch it, soothe the hurt.

“I want to have you,” Dean whispers, because if he speaks any louder right now his voice will crack. “Wish I could.”

“You do,” Castiel says, words sharp and short and as close to angry as he’s going to get tonight. Tonight isn’t for angry, it’s for solace. “You know you do.”

Dean has the good grace to look slightly chagrined at that, ducks his head briefly before he rolls, wraps his other arm around Cas as well and tucks him up against his chest.

Dean knows that even though Castiel’s feelings have very little to do with sexual gratification, they’re no less intense for it. The implication that Castiel won’t ever truly be Dean’s just because he doesn’t experience orgasm the same way Dean does is insulting.

“Yeah,” Dean mumbles against his lips between kisses, bites Castiel’s lower lip and then sucks on it gently. “Yeah, I know. Can we?”

Castiel blinks and furrows his brow. It’s not like Dean to ask. Usually he just takes what he wants, only stopping if Castiel asks him to. He rarely does.

“Of course.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers and rolls them further, crushes Castiel’s body with his own and smashes their mouths together. Dean’s hands worm up Castiel’s sides and his hips grind down so Castiel can feel Dean’s erection growing, pressing against his groin.

He likes it. It’s smooth and comforting and while he’s not aroused in the same way Dean is, it’s still very important to him. This is how Dean shows love, this is a display of pure desire sprung from intense emotion and Castiel fears he might wither and die should Dean decide to stop giving him this. Stop taking.

He kisses Dean back, the way he knows Dean likes. Hard press of lips followed by a series of softer touches, a little tongue, a little teeth. Then deeper, harder, hands under Dean’s shirt as he spreads his legs so Dean can fall between them and then all over again.

On the second pass of hands over bodies Dean works Castiel’s arms out of his coat, laughs as he undoes his tie and strips him out of his shirt. He groans, eyes fluttering closed when he leans forward, kisses Castiel’s chest, lips and tongue skittering along the skin pulled taut over his ribs.

Castiel feels a shiver of lust run through Dean when Dean’s lips close over a nipple and Castiel makes quick work of Dean’s t-shirt. He lets out his own whimper when Dean’s lips have to leave his skin to work the thin cotton garment off and out of the way, but Dean’s mouth is back on him in no time, the two of them working together to get their pants unfastened, down and off.

Dean’s worked his mouth back up to Castiel’s by the time they’re both naked, Castiel opening for him, for anything Dean wants and he places his hands on Dean’s ass, works him closer, encouraging.

“How do you want me?” Castiel asks, nudges Dean’s chin with his nose until Dean tilts his head back, until Castiel has access and he latches onto Dean’s neck, sucks and bites until Dean groans and bucks against him.

“God, Cas,” Dean pants and Castiel feels pride, accomplishment and compulsion to serve, to let Dean love him. It’s something he hasn’t felt outside his time with Dean in a very long while. “Shit.”

“Do you want me on my back, legs wrapped around you?” Dean groans again and his fingers clamp down on Castiel’s hip so hard they’d bruise if he were anyone else. Cas continues, urging him on, ramping him up. Cas loves it when Dean loses control. “On my knees, face down? Anything, Dean.”

“Fuck yeah,” Dean says, breathes the words out against Castiel’s lips. “Anything. Shit, everything. Just like this.”

He bumps Castiel’s thigh with a knee and Castiel spreads his legs wider, splays them open and looks directly into Dean’s eyes when Dean works a hand down over his ass, slides it between his cheeks and presses the tips of two fingers against his hole.

“Do you need lubrication?” Castiel asks. They don’t always use it. Castiel certainly doesn’t need it, doesn’t even register pain that minimal and sometimes Dean’s slick enough with his own arousal to make the entry relatively easy.

“Yeah,” Dean says, reaching blindly for his duffle bag on the floor, raising his hand again and carrying a small tube. “Yeah, I want…”

Dean trails off as his face disappears into Castiel’s neck and the bites and licks send a pleasant warmth through Castiel, make him want to pull Dean to him and never let him up.

But then Dean’s hand slips forward, up and cups around Castiel’s cock. His very soft, uninterested cock and Dean freezes, falls forward slightly with his forehead resting on Castiel’s shoulder.

“Dean…” Castiel starts, doesn’t want this conversation. They almost never have to have it anymore. Castiel doesn’t achieve erection unless he specifically wants to and most of the time they’re both okay with him staying soft.

“No,” Dean cuts him off before he can offer pointless platitudes. Dean knows how he feels. He doesn’t need to be told. “No, just… get hard. I want you hard.”

“Anything,” Castiel says and he hardens under Dean’s fingers almost immediately. Because Dean wants it, Dean asked for it and Castiel is helpless but to obey. It’s not an unusual request. Sometimes Dean wants the illusion that Castiel gets off on this just like Dean does.

Once he’s fully erect Dean lets go, squeezes some of the lube out over his fingers and then grips Castiel’s cock in his hand, pumps it a few times to spread the slick around.

Castiel knows that Dean loves when this is done to him, knows the sounds and the faces he makes, knows the twitches and flexes of his body. Castiel doesn’t bother to emulate them. Dean would see right through it.

Instead he lies still as Dean hoists a leg over his hips, straddles him and then reaches his hand back to slick up his own hole, fingers disappearing inside himself as he looks down at a spot on the bed beside Castiel’s head.

“Dean,” Castiel says, to get his attention. He’s more than happy to let Dean use his body any way he pleases, but Castiel gets something out of this as well, a kind of intimacy that he can’t get when they share a meal or listen to Dean’s music together. This means something to him and it’s not fair of Dean to rob him of that.

Dean near ignores him, though as he angles his hips, manoeuvres Castiel into place with unfeeling hands.

“Dean, please.”

“It’s fine,” Dean says, sinks down onto Castiel’s cock all at once and his eyes close and his teeth grind. Castiel can tell it hurts – they don’t do this often – but he can also tell that this is exactly what Dean needs. He’s still not looking at Castiel though, so it’s anything but fine.

“Look at me,” he orders, words coming out short and tight.

“Why?” Dean asks, eyes snapping to Castiel’s as his hips snap down and he takes Castiel’s cock deep and hard, breath catching on a moan, pain giving way to pleasure. Castiel doesn’t feel much beyond the vague comfort of having Dean close. Jealousy is something he’s never experienced before Dean, either.

Castiel doesn’t answer him, so Dean continues.

“No, really, Cas. Why? I know what this is to you, okay? I know what you’d do for me, know what you’d give up. What you give up all the damn time.”

Dean sits up straight, places his hands on his own thighs as he sinks down as far as gravity will take him, groans high and tight in his chest and winces slightly, moves to get a better angle and then moves back.

“But I know you don’t want this. You do it, but you don’t really want it so please, Cas. Please don’t make me look you in the eye when I’m treating you like a sex doll.”

Castiel knows that Dean understands exactly, knows that there’s nothing wrong with what they do and that Dean’s acting like a spoilt little brat, but he doesn’t say it. Sometimes Dean needs to act out, vent his anger at things that don’t deserve it. It’s… not okay, exactly, but Castiel does understand. He does it right back to Dean, after all.

Perhaps they don’t have the healthiest of relationships, but it’s theirs. Perhaps it’s going to go down in flames and take them both with it, but Castiel doesn’t care.

“Alright,” Castiel says, closes his eyes and takes his hands down from where they’ve been resting on Dean’s thighs, splays them out on the bed to his sides. “Use me, then.”

So, Dean does.

His hands land on Castiel’s chest, put there to keep balance as Dean rides him, fast and hard and designed to get him off as quickly as possible. Dean doesn’t touch him anywhere else, doesn’t bend down to kiss him, trail his lips over Castiel’s jaw and doesn’t talk.

Most of all, he doesn’t talk.

Dean always talks.

Whispers, really. Soft mumbles, wouldn’t even wake up Sam if they’d ever done it with him in the next bed, but he talks all the same. Tells Castiel how good he is, how beautiful and amazing and hot he is.

Breathes out “yes” and “God, please” and “So perfect, baby, perfect” against the back of his neck. Tells him how good it is and how Dean can’t ever get enough.

But this time, he’s not saying any of that.

He’s just riding Castiel, one hand coming up to grip his own cock, to pull on it so fast Castiel almost can’t keep track. Dean’s other hand clenches Castiel’s hip, fingernails digging into the skin and Castiel lets it break, lets himself bleed and watches Dean ignore it.

Dean’s hand gets faster and faster, working himself closer and closer to the brink and his breath gets shallow, harsh and quick and Castiel wallows in it, wants to stay this way forever. He’d roll around in the sounds of Dean’s gasping moans, pull them around him and keep himself warm with them, if that was possible on this plane.

As it is, he just opens his ears and takes it all in, relaxes his body and feels, feels the best he can when Dean doesn’t bother to touch him.

He misses Dean’s lips on his, misses Dean’s hands on his body, misses them shifting him and caressing him and he misses Dean’s attention. More than anything, he misses how Dean notices he’s even there at all.

He feels Dean tense and start, hears him whimper and watches him shoot streaks of white across his stomach while he stares at the wall. Listens to him hum in distant pleasure as his hand slows down and so do his hips. He takes in every shake, every quiver that Dean doesn’t bother to share with him, lets himself be used, because Dean asked.

He offers himself up, nothing but a body, because Dean asked.

He hates it, for a split second. Wants to rain down wrath because he can’t ever feel what Dean’s feeling, can’t truly share this experience that Dean’s shared with so many others who have meant so little. He wants to smite Dean and anyone else he’ll ever take as a lover.

Castiel knows he won’t be around forever, knows that his endgame in this war means he’ll have to leave Dean much sooner than he wants to. He knows that Dean won’t be alone forever, that people will throw themselves at his feet.

And he wants Dean to be happy after he’s gone. He does. But that’s not now, not yet.

The way Dean’s body writhes above him, around him, it’s intoxicating. Dean breathes, a low-pitched and heavy sound as he settles, exhales long and low and collapses down against him.

“Dean.”

Dean’s fingers swipe through the mess Dean’s made on his stomach and he turns his head so that his mouth is pressed to Castiel’s ear, breath hot and pleasant against the shell.

“Hmm?” Dean mumbles, noses against Castiel’s neck.

“Do you want me to come?” Castiel nearly whispers, craning his neck further in supplication, giving Dean full access.

He can come, has done it before when Dean’s asked it of him, but again, it’s not their usual. It doesn’t improve the experience for Castiel and once Dean had gotten over his injured pride he hadn’t really felt the need for it to happen either.

Still, there are times when Dean needs to pretend, other times when he just gets off on the mess. When he likes to know that he’s with a person – as much of one as Castiel can be for him – and he needs to know that Castiel needs him.

“No,” Dean says, still doesn’t look at him as he climbs off, face pulling tight as Castiel slips free. “No, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried, Dean,” he tells him, scowls and grabs hold of Dean’s wrist. He won’t let Dean run away from this. “I just…”

Dean raises an eyebrow and Castiel relents, breathes out through his nose and shakes his head.

“Okay, I am worried. You use my body when you need to and I let you, because I... I feel…” He pauses to take another breath and he feels the heavy weight of Dean’s eyes on him, not looking away. “I let you because I like it too. So don’t walk away from me, Dean. Don’t decide that I’m not enough, that I’m deficient somehow and leave me. I won’t let you.”

“You know what’s fucked up?” Dean asks, hand pressing down on Castiel’s cock. It’s soft now, softened the second Dean said he was finished with it and Dean chuckles slightly. “I’m glad. If I ever tried to leave you, I’d want you not to let me. I’d want you to hold me down and make me stay.”

“You can count on it,” Castiel answers, smiles slightly and turns them so that he’s on top of Dean now. He presses his lips to Dean’s, snakes his tongue inside and lets his body roll slow and soft, feels Dean’s warmth and presses his lips to Dean’s neck until Dean gets lazy and weak.

“You know it’s not just the sex,” Dean mumbles, almost asleep and Castiel kisses both his eyelids, coaxes him down. Wants to spend the night right here, together. “Right? I mean, I don’t just want you because you’re bendy and shit, and you give me whatever I want in the sac.”

The answer to that is so obvious that Castiel almost can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, Dean,” he says, shifting off Dean and slotting himself into the groove of Dean’s side. “Of course I know that.”

“Good. I…”

Dean’s phone rings then, cutting him off and he almost pushes Castiel to the floor in his haste to answer it, suddenly wide awake.

“Yeah,” he barks out, standing naked by the table with the phone to his ear and Castiel tunes his conversation out in favour of just looking.

He sees Dean’s loose muscles tighten up again one by one, from the arches of his feet, up his long legs and his arms, his sharply defined back and the thick line of his neck. Everything Castiel just did for him, like it never happened. Back to work, then.

Castiel closes his eyes and doesn’t open them again until Dean is smacking the bottom of one bare foot. He blinks up at Dean, watches him tug his pants up and button them, reach up and stretch the lean line of his stomach as he works his shirt over his head.

“I gotta hit the road. That friend of Bobby’s came through with some info. I’m meeting him in ten minutes.”

Castiel nods and stands, dresses gracefully and by the time he’s done Dean is shrugging on his jacket and grabbing his wallet off the table.

“You want to come with, or…?” Dean asks him, eyes flitting between his hand on the doorknob and Castiel’s feet.

“No, Dean,” he answers. “I have, uh, things. To take care of. I’ll come back to you as soon as possible.”

“Yeah,” Dean answers, offers Castiel a relieved smile and pulls the door open. “I’d like that.”

Castiel smiles back and he waits until the door closes behind Dean before he takes a deep breath and flies away, back to his war, his deal with what’s passing for the devil these days.

He’s losing Dean, he’s losing himself, he can feel it.

And as soon as possible isn’t nearly soon enough.

END