RockStarPeach

More 'The End' based fic. Because I so very love it :)

Title: Live For the Fight
Pairing: Dean/Cas, Cas/others
Rating: Adult
Word count: 4300
Summary: 2014!verse. Cas likes to celebrate successful missions with indulgence and the drugged-out orgies don't necessarily have to wait until they get home. Cas has some fun in the car with a couple of injured soldiers, but when they get home, Dean makes sure Cas knows where he really belongs.
A/N: Written for a prompt asking for a 2014!Cas gangbang, but I failed spectacularly.

***

It’s been a good trip.

Three days, they’ve been gone. Three gruelling, exhausting, blood-drenched days, but now – half an hour from home with a trunk full of supplies, no serious casualties and finally, finally out of immediate danger – they can all just fucking relax for a while. Take a breath and be proud of what they did, what they’re doing and pretend like it actually makes a difference.

They have to pretend, because if they don’t, what’s the fucking point, right?

The car behind theirs is carrying nothing but gasoline, scavenged from a highway service station so far from any of the camps around here that nobody’s ever risked the trip. Times are getting tougher though, supplies dwindling and two years into this hopeless war Dean’s got to take those risks. Has to let Ford and Turner go up against the six demons that jump them around back of the pumps because they’re probably getting a little too close to something.

Has to chance losing some of his people to the demons or the virus because if he doesn’t he’ll lose even more to hunger or infection or hypothermia.

He’ll lose everybody, eventually. The devil won’t quit and Dean can only do so much. He’s beat, he knows that, but he’s not broken yet, so he does what he can and he makes damn sure that everyone else does, too. That they feel like they matter even a little bit, because there’s still a tiny little part of him that hopes it’s the truth, even if the rest of him knows better.

The car two back is loaded up with food, canned goods and slightly expired boxed cereals and toilet paper. Asprin and condoms and Windex and some vegetable seeds that might still be viable. Liquor. Supermarket run in a long abandoned town just outside of known Croate territory that broke Harris’ arm and cost Haines a serious gash in his thigh and at least a pint of blood, but they all made it out alive.

The Pontiac picking up the rear is crammed with school supplies, paper and pens and a couple of laptop computers, some recreational software and some text books from the local college. Rulers and calculators and lesson plans from the grade school. Sure, some of that stuff probably won’t do them much good right now, but Jenkins thinks it’s important. They have a few children in their camp and she thinks they need something besides loading guns and memorising exorcisms to concentrate on.

The vehicle Dean’s in, along with Cas and Poleski and Riker, is carrying bandages, needles and scalpels and rubbing alcohol. Blankets and pillows and gauze and some of the more hardcore painkillers and antibiotics the hospital pharmacy had stocked that they couldn’t find in the supermarket.

Poleski is cradling his sprained left wrist slightly and Riker throws a bloody towel out the window that has successfully staunched the bleeding from the stab wound to his right bicep that he got at their last stop.

Cas is sitting in the front seat next to Dean, smiling and humming to himself, eyes a little glazed over as he counts out little white tablets in his hand. Dean wonders how many he’s already thrown back, but he doesn’t ask. He never asks.

“Gentlemen,” Cas says, dragging out the word as he reaches his arm back, places his palm upward between the seats, displaying his offering.

Poleski and Riker each take one of the pills but Dean doesn’t even turn his head. He’d kill for a shot of whisky at the moment but he doesn’t go near the harder stuff unless he really needs it.

“Starting the celebration early?” Dean asks, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “No, thanks.”

He knows that the chemically induced high added to the thrill of success is just the beginning, knows that Cas celebrates the fact they’re still alive with decadence in every form. He’ll eat Twinkies and get full on canned pumpkin and tear apart the cut on the back of his thigh just to feel it hurt again and he’ll laugh and get even higher and he’ll fuck.

Cas pretty much always does those things, but when they get back from a risky run it’s like he’s on a mission, like he needs to prove to himself and everyone else that they’re all still really here.

Cas just shrugs and pops the pill meant for Dean into his own mouth.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “But the offer will still be on the table later. If you want.” They both know he’s not talking about the amphetamines, he’s talking about the other. The thing they don’t ever talk about. The thing everybody knows but nobody will say.

He gives Dean a knowing smirk before he slinks smoothly between the two front seats and into the back, that last little bit of angelic grace he possesses making the movement seamless and casual, rather than awkward, jerky and stilted like it would be for anyone else of his size in a vehicle moving over rough terrain.

Angelic grace with a good dose of cocksure attitude, because as cool as Dean plays it, Cas knows exactly where he’ll be later on, when nobody is looking, when they pretend they don’t know. He knows when Dean wants.

Knows, because Dean always wants – the sun rises in the east, the moon pulls the tide of the oceans, gravity keeps them from spinning off into nothing and Dean wants.

But for now, Dean just watches.

Watches as Castiel, once prudish and stuffy and so entirely not Dean’s type, kneels up on the bench seat in the back. Watches through the rearview mirror as he works his worn jeans down over his hips and thighs.

Dean’s not surprised that Cas isn’t wearing anything under them and he has to bite his tongue and force his eyes back on the road enough so that they don’t crash when Cas kicks his pants off altogether, shifts to the side, straddles Riker and buries his face in Riker’s neck.

Riker moans and Cas chuckles and Dean’s so, so quiet and pressing on the gas pedal harder, pushing towards home. It’s stupid, he knows it’s stupid because he doesn’t own Cas, has no more rights to him than anyone else but he still wants to get him alone and pretend. Get him somewhere he can corner Cas, get him alone and treat him like the slut he turned himself into, use him like he uses everyone else and claim him again, even for a little while.

He hears the distinct sound of a zipper, checks the mirror again and sees Cas shuffle, adjust position and he’s damn glad he’s got a straight, open stretch of road in front of him because even to save all their lives right now he couldn’t possibly take his eyes off the reflection he sees, off the slick, reddened tip of Riker’s cock sliding into the crack of Cas’ ass and disappearing.

He’s glad he’s got as much control over his limbs as he does when he hears Riker moan a pitiful, high-pitched moan and hears Cas say “That’s it, Mike. We did it, we’re still here and we deserve this. What’s life without a little indulgence, anyway?”

Dean watches Riker throw his head back against the seat and his hands sneak up over Cas’ ribs to settle against his back.

“Fuck me,” Cas says and Riker does, holds tighter and pumps into Cas so hard he’s panting and his fingers are turning purple.

Dean grits his teeth and hits the gas harder, pretends it doesn’t bother him but he’s not fooling anyone. He can act like he and Cas aren’t fucking all he wants, but nobody actually believes it. It’s why nobody ever sticks around either of them much past getting off and why nobody else ever makes the first move.

Nobody is stupid enough to come between them in any way that matters.

“Yeah,” Cas breaths out. “Yeah, like that. Harder.”

Riker grunts, grabs Cas face in between his palms and pulls him in for a kiss. Dean’s eyes open wide, his body locks and for half a moment Cas doesn’t respond. He won’t, Dean thinks.

He’s under no delusions, figures Cas kisses his fair share of lays, just like Dean does. But no matter how many people Cas fucks right in front of him, he never lets it get intimate. He never makes it about anyone who isn’t Dean.

So Dean’s pretty damn sure. He won’t kiss Riker like this, in front of Dean, in front of Poleski. Won’t make a fool of Dean like that.

Only, Cas does.

He kisses him, long and deep and Dean can’t exactly see where tongues are going and teeth are biting but he’s sure it’s happening. There are sounds, squelching and smacking, groans and squeaks and then Cas pulls back, finally pulls back after what seems like an eternity.

He swivels his neck around, looks over his shoulder at Dean through the mirror and gives him a cruel, half smile.

“Come,” he says, all fucked out and scratchy and Dean shivers, slams his hand against the wheel while Riker apparently follows Cas’ order.

The man cries out in the back, low and loud and his hips buck up a few times, he thrashes his head from side to side and his hands finally go loose around Cas, fall to his sides on the back seat after they clench one last time.

Cas smirks at Dean before he turns back around and Dean’s jaw ticks when he adjusts the mirror to see that Poleski already has his pants open, dick out and hard and waiting.

It pisses him the fuck off.

And not because Cas is going to fuck him, not because Cas just fucked Riker and not because Cas is probably going to fuck a truckload of others when they get home. Cas has orgies. Women, men, makes no difference. Dean’s used to Cas’ orgies, used to him spouting all his bullshit about spirituality and transcendence to coax people into sex and though he never joins in, Dean doesn’t begrudge Cas his fun.

Cas needs fucking to feel alive, just like Dean does and they’ve never promised each other anything. Hell, Dean’s fucked his way through half the camp, too.

So it’s not seeing Cas with other people that pisses him off. It’s that these other people – the men especially on these missions, in these cars on their way back, before the love-ins start – they think that it’s them using Cas, when they’re too damn stupid to see that it’s the other way around.

They know he likes to fuck after a run and they like to think they can just pass him around between them, use his body while he rides out his chemical high and they’re too damn stupid to see that every single move they make is orchestrated by the ex-angel.

If it wasn’t, if Dean ever felt even the slightest hint that someone was taking advantage, that Cas wasn’t in complete control, he’d pull the damn car over and start breaking noses.

As it is, he’s not ashamed to admit that he’s more than a little turned on by the whole thing. Cas knows it, too, the little bitch and he uses it to get under Dean’s skin just as much as he uses the ridiculous jealousy angle.

“We’re only ten minutes out,” Dean says, enough bite to the words so that Cas jerks back, stops fucking kissing Riker’s neck. “And you’ve still got one more conquest. Better get moving.”

Cas turns his head toward Poleski and gives the man a lazy smile. He reaches out a hand to his cock and starts to jerk it without bothering to move off Riker’s lap.

“Two more, by my count,” Cas says, teasing and flirty and no way in hell is Dean lumping himself in with these jokers. No way in hell will he ever be with Cas like this, quick and cheap with other people watching.

“Nine minutes,” is all Dean says in response and Cas laughs then, deep and warm and from his belly and Dean is suddenly and insanely jealous, just like Cas wants. He’s jealous that it’s Riker’s dick up inside him, jealous that Cas is bending over and to the side in a way that’s just… inhuman, so he can take Poleski’s prick into his mouth and jealous that those guys get to feel Cas act happy, get to bask in his warmth and joy when that should just be for Dean.

Sex is sex and Dean doesn’t care who Cas fucks, but if Cas is going to laugh like that, if he’s going to tease Dean by pretending that happiness is real, then he only has himself to blame if Dean makes him very, very sorry for it later.

Poleski cries out when Cas swallows him down, Riker whimpers when Cas starts to rut against him all over again.

“I can’t…” Riker pants, breathy and broken. “Cas, man. I can’t. It kinda hurts.”

Dean can just picture the pleased grin on Cas’ face around Poleski’s cock and Dean snickers a little when Cas doesn’t pull off but rocks his hips a few more times, slower and deeper.

“Please!” Riker yells and Dean hears Cas sigh, sees him sitting upright in the mirror and watches him roll back just enough to pull off, shift to make it easier to reach Poleski.

“Wuss,” Dean mumbles, a word meant only for Cas’ ears because Dean’s made it through more than one round (three is his record) of Cas riding his cock without begging for mercy. Riker can shut the fuck and keep his hands of Dean’s man if he can’t handle him.

“Play nice, Dean,” Cas chides and Dean’s increasingly glad that they’re only minutes out from camp.

Cas’ head dips down and Dean knows he’s sucking Poleski good and hard because the man is moaning, soft and sweet and little tiny breaths while Cas’ head bobs up and down and Dean brakes briefly for no reason, watches Cas choke and cough and then levels the car out again.

Douche move, yeah, he knows that, but Cas isn’t playing fair either.

“We’re pulling up,” Dean says, after a few minutes of wet, sucking noises, high hitches of breath and a steady litany of ‘fuck, suck it, please, God’. “Hurry the fuck up and put your junk away.”

His tone must be enough to break through the fog of Poleski’s arousal and Riker’s post-orgasmic high because there’s a soft grunt, there’s Poleski closing his eyes for a few seconds, there’s Cas moaning and then there’s everyone in the backseat that’s not Cas scrambling to fasten up, to smooth out the wrinkles and sit up straight like nothing happened.

The last few yards Dean slows the car, turns the key and listens to the engine sputter and shut down. Dean watches Riker and Poleski both get out of the car as quickly as possible, watches them each grab a box from the back and walk toward the main storage cabin without looking back.

Dean gets out next, slams the door behind him as he watches Cas climb out of the back. He wishes he could do more than slam the damn door while he watches Cas unabashedly stuff his feet into the legs of his pants, watches him pull them up over his legs, his cock, thick and red and needy, because he hasn’t come yet. He watches everyone nearby, the people from the cars behind them, watch Cas.

A few of them start to advance, start to slowly come a little bit closer because they know what it means when Cas rolls out of the back half-dressed. They want their turn at him, want to lose themselves in his willing body. Dean doesn’t get it.

Oh, he gets wanting to fuck Cas, but he doesn’t get why people fucking line up to do it, why they’re so willing to share him and why they fall so easily for his ‘sex will set you free’ bullshit. It’s like they can’t help themselves, like they think because Cas was an angel once that they’ll transcend somehow. There are some that get off even harder debasing him, because he used to be holy.

Dean feels sorry for the former and sort of really wants to punch the latter in the fucking face. He would, but it’s not his place. Cas can take care of himself.

He can handle it when Brenner and Perry walk right up to him, when one of them takes his hand and the other smiles and cocks his head in the direction of his cabin. Dean wants to tell them to stop, wants to tell them how fucking stupid they are, but he doesn’t say a word.

He steps forward and places a hand on Cas’ lower back, levels hard looks at the two men who think they’re about to get lucky and they pull back immediately, recognise Dean’s blatant possessiveness. It’s not often they see it, so when they do, they tend to take it seriously.

“Got three more cars headin’ in,” Dean tells them. “Chuck. Jane,” he says, calling over his shoulder at them as they jog toward him. “Sort it out. Take whoever you need.”

“And me, Dean?” Cas asks, goes all out and bats his fucking eyelashes at Dean and Dean hears some of the people around them snicker.

Dean doesn’t say anything, glares at Cas for a moment and then turns on his heel, walks toward his cabin and it takes every ounce of strength he has to not look back, to not check to make sure Cas is following.

Cas laughs behind him, a deep, warm sound that makes Dean’s eyes slam shut and makes him wish for a different life. He almost decides against this, almost goes back out to help unload their goods but he hears and feels Cas fall into step right behind him and no. He wants it too much, wants Cas too much and he mostly doesn’t even care how fucked up it is.

He unlocks his door and pushes it open, doesn’t close it behind him when he shrugs out of his jacket and tosses his keys on the dresser and the second he hears the door snick shut behind Cas he spins. His hands fly out and he grips tight fistfuls of Cas’ t-shirt, pushes him back against the wall and covers Cas’ mouth with his own.

It’s not so much a kiss as it is brand, crushing and bruising and when he opens his mouth slightly and slides his tongue past Cas’ lower lip he can taste Poleski’s come still lingering on his tongue. Dean growls and pulls away, hates that the taste turns him on even more, gets him even harder and he pushes his hips forward, slides them against Cas and feels an answering hardness pressing back.

“Strip,” Dean orders, slamming his hand against the wall to push off and away. He kicks out of his boots and tugs his shirt over his head, expecting Cas to do the same.

He does.

“If you’re this eager for it, I would have blown you in the car, Dean. You know I’d never make you wait,” Cas says as he sheds his clothes, stands naked and proud in front of Dean.

“You’d never make anyone wait,” Dean agrees, works his jeans down and off and pushes Cas toward his bed. He smiles when Cas stops, the backs of his thighs pressed to the mattress and he rakes his eyes up and down Dean’s body.

“I’d make everyone else wait, if it suited me,” Cas tells him, shaking his head. “You know that I would.”

And yeah, Dean does know that. It’s part of why he… Well.

“Face down,” Dean says, the words coming out on a grunt as he grabs Cas by the shoulder and roughly turns him, pushes him forward so he falls down on the bed. “Gonna fuck you, hard.”

“Yes,” Cas hisses, climbs forward on his hands and knees, hips swaying slightly with the movement. “Do it.”

“Fuck,” Dean mumbles, climbs on the bed after him and inches forward, scratchy wool of his blanket irritating the skin of his knees and shins. “Such a fucking slut for it, aren’t you, Cas?”

“No more than you are,” Cas answers, turning his head slightly and resting it on the pillow. His mouth falls open and he balances on his shoulders as he moves his hands around and behind him. He places them on the rounded cheeks of his ass, clenches and flexes his fingers, pulls.

Dean whimpers then, actually fucking whimpers when Cas spreads himself wide. Wants to cry a little because he looks so open, so relaxed and swollen and needy and it wasn’t Dean that opened him up like that, filled him tight and made him slick with come and ready for more.

Cas is right. For all that Dean plays it cool, for his unwillingness to participate in most of Cas’ sexual exploits, he’s helpless in the face of this, of Cas offering himself to just Dean, of knowing that this is where Cas is most himself.

Dean is a great big shameless slut for Cas.

He’s okay with it.

“You good?” he asks, falling forward and draping himself over Cas’ back, placing a hand on Cas’ chest to pull him close as he slots his aching erection between Cas’ cheeks and starts to rock. “You need any prep?”

Dean doubts it. He can feel Riker’s mess leaking out of Cas even now, slicking the head of Dean’s cock up as he presses it just barely inside Cas on each passing thrust.

“No,” Cas chuckles. “No, Dean. I’m fine. Just do it.”

So, Dean does. He fills Cas up and he bends down and cranes Cas’ neck around, kisses him until they’re both breathless. He wraps Cas in his arms as he pumps into him, holds him so tight that they both forget about everyone else, forget that it’s not always like this, that they don’t end every day this exact same way.

He licks Cas’ lips and he trails his fingers down along the soft, soft skin over lean muscle and sharp bone. He digs his nails into Cas’ hips, holds him close and yanks him back onto his cock, hard and harder until he drives away all thoughts of anything else.

“Tell me,” Dean says, order given just like every other order and Cas is no more likely to follow this one than any of the others unless he wants to. Cas gasps as Dean angles his thrusts, grips his cock and starts to jerk it, warm, solid fingers over silky, rock-hard flesh. “Tell me I’m better. That when you fuck me like this, you really mean it. That it’s not just a power trip.”

“Fuck me,” Cas says softly, instead of answering. Dean closes his eyes and grits his teeth, jerks his hips forward as hard as he can and Cas cries out when Dean starts to strip his cock so fast the motion is a blur of feeling.

It’s not long before Dean is swallowing down his own depressing thoughts, until he’s channelling them into Cas and their fucking and they’re coming together, Cas over Dean’s fingers and onto the bed below them and Dean inside Cas’ hole, filling him up just like Riker did on the drive in.

“You’re better,” Dean whispers, collapses on top of Cas and rolls to the side, pulls him close and wraps his body around him. “Nobody else… Shit. People are willing to do pretty much anything, when you’re the boss, but nobody gets me like you do. Nobody makes me feel… Yeah. Guess that’s why everyone wants you. Why they do whatever you tell them to. Why you’ve got me wrapped around your damn finger.”

Cas twists so that he’s on his back, takes Dean’s hand in his and slides his fingers down over his softening cock, over the mess he made and back, dips them between his cheeks. Dean shivers and lets out a soft curse as his dick gives an interested but futile twitch.

“The sentiment is very much returned,” Cas says and Dean lets go of a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “And your insecurity is equal parts annoying and adorable.”

“Bite me,” Dean says, grinning against Cas’ temple before he places a soft kiss there, settles his arms more firmly around Cas’ frame.

Neither of them says anything for a long time, minutes tick by so slowly that Dean thinks they’re done, relaxes his grip and starts to drift off. They’ve got all afternoon to unpack and set up their next mission. He’s not in any immediate rush to hear what Sanderson and his crew found out from their own run one day south to the nest of vamps they’d heard about.

All of it can wait. The whole fucking world can wait because for right now, Dean’s content.

“Dean,” Cas whispers, presses in closer and threads his fingers through Dean’s over his stomach, spreading the slick mess of jizz around in a way that’s oddly not even remotely sexy, just comforting.

“Mmm,” Dean answers, nudges against Cas’ cheek and doesn’t bother to fight the heavy draw of slumber pulling him down. This is as close to happy as he gets these days. There’s the fight and there’s Cas and nothing else matters. Not really.

“You’ll always be better.”

END