Archive of Our Own

To Bobby’s credit, he only lost his temper after Dean had dropped the wrench on the ground for the third time in as many minutes.

“Goddamnit, boy, what’re you doin’ under there?” Dean’s boss demanded from somewhere above the car he was working underneath. “You got butterfingers today or somethin’?”

“Sorry, Bobby,” Dean said, picking up the wrench off the garage floor. It was cramped under the car, so reaching for the tool was awkward, but he managed it without smearing too much grease on his uniform. “I got distracted, that’s all.”

“Distracted,” Bobby grumbled. “You’ve had ants in your pants all day, ya idjit! What’s got you so lost in your head?”

Dean cleared his throat. “Nothing, Bobby. Plans for tonight, that’s all.” He was glad his boss couldn’t see his face underneath the car. His cheeks and ears were bright red.

“Great,” Bobby muttered. “Well, do me a favor and try to focus on the Goddamn car for the last ten minutes of the night, ‘stead of whatever woman you’re hooking up with later, alright?”

“Yeah, sure,” Dean said. He didn’t have the heart to tell his boss that he wasn’t hooking up with a woman at all, or that the man he was going to be spending time with was closer to a boyfriend than a one-night stand.

Not his boyfriend, though. Castiel wasn’t his boyfriend. He was his Dom. There was a difference. A difference that Dean had definitely not thought about way too much. Nope. Moving on.

He’d been nervous about tonight since last Friday, when he and Castiel had set it up. After a satisfying scene and an even more satisfying cuddle session on the couch, Dean had tentatively broached the subject that he’d been turning over in his head for the better part of a month.

He wanted to see if they could work through some of the roadblocks he had with basic things in the scene, starting with a blindfold.

Since Dean had met Castiel four months ago—and God, he couldn’t believe it had already been four months—the Dom had shown him in no uncertain terms how a safe, healthy BDSM relationship was supposed to look. It was a big step up from Dean’s previous interactions, which had left him with more scars than could be seen on his body, though there were plenty of those too. Through their scenes together, Dean had started to wonder if his hard and soft limits could be tested now that he knew he was with someone he trusted to keep him safe. Did he really hate blindfolds, or had they just been wielded as a tool to harm him in the past? Dean didn’t know.

He wanted to find out.

And that was why they’d had that conversation. That was why Dean was currently psyching himself up for his scene with Castiel later tonight, since his Dom had agreed to try blindfolds again with Dean.

Dean wasn’t scared. He wasn’t. He was just… nervous. Nervous because he didn’t want to disappoint Castiel, and nervous because he had no idea how his brain was going to handle this. The last time a blindfold had been used on him… Dean shivered to think about it. He trusted Cas. He just had to remember that. He trusted his Dominant, and at this point, that was the only thing keeping him from deciding to just chicken out.

Dean had run through this exact conversation in his mind about six billion times in the last hour alone. It was the same loop of thinking, around and around in his head. He got lost in it, and that was probably why he’d been unusually clumsy with the tools. It was no surprise that Bobby had noticed. Dean wasn’t normally so frazzled.

Thankfully, when Dean wheeled out from underneath the car he was working on, he saw that his boss was right; they only had a couple minutes left before closing. Dean finished up what he was doing on the car, wiped his hands off, and helped shut down the garage for the night. Benny and Garth, the other mechanics, seemed to recognize that Dean was in a mood. They teased him like normal, but there was an underlying sense of lightness to it that made Dean inwardly grateful.

He said goodbye to his boss and his coworkers for the weekend and walked over to where he’d parked his car. After the disaster a few weeks ago where Dean had been called into work on Saturday and had had to leave a scene early, Dean had worked with Bobby to make sure he took a couple extra weekday hours in exchange for completely free weekends. There was no way he was going to risk sending Castiel into drop again. The thought still made Dean’s gut churn with guilt, even weeks later.

He pulled out his phone once he sat down in his car and smiled when he found a text from his Dom waiting for him.

Castiel: I understand you’ll only see this once you get off work, but I wanted to tell you that I unlocked the door for you. I’ll likely be struggling with dinner in the kitchen, so don’t bother knocking when you arrive.

Grinning like a Goddamn idiot, Dean typed out a response.

Dean: sounds good. just finished closing down the garage. gotta shower, then ill be there soon

The drive home seemed to take an inordinately long amount of time. When Dean arrived at his apartment, he found another text waiting for him.

Castiel: Good boy. I’ll see you soon.

The praise made Dean’s stomach twist, a shot of pure warmth flashing through him. His cheeks hurt from smiling, and he distantly realized in the back of his mind that this wasn’t normal. He didn’t feel like this about normal people, even people that he had sex with more than once. His brain, however, was too soaked in happy hormones to care. Sue him, he liked being told he was doing a good job.

Dean forced himself to slow down when he got in the shower, wanting to get rid of any leftover grease and sweat from his day. He loved most parts of his job, including the hard work, gorgeous cars, cool boss, and funny coworkers. The cleanup, though? Not his favorite.

When he’d gotten clean and dried himself off, Dean got dressed in a shirt and some jeans. He brought sweatpants with him, just in case. He’d learned his lesson one too many times after being forced to put jeans back on over the bruised skin of his ass. At this point, the sweatpants were as much of a routine as driving to Castiel’s house from his apartment.

Dean knew the way like the back of his hand by now. He knew the pothole on the one road, and the light that took too long to turn green at the intersection, and the blind corner turning into the neighborhood because of the massive flowering bush. Dean knew the old woman who ran at a walking pace through the neighborhood at the same time of night every Friday when he arrived. He knew the familiar, modern house with light gray paint and lovingly cared-for rhododendrons in the front, the welcome mat that said Bee Happy with a little flying honeybee on it.

Dean was already smiling when he parked his car in Castiel’s driveway. The lights through the windows gleamed, golden and welcoming.

The door was unlocked, just like Castiel had said. The house, surprisingly, didn’t smell like burning food when Dean entered. Castiel probably wasn’t struggling with dinner as much as he’d said, then. Still smiling, Dean set his bag down near the door, toed off his boots, and called, “Cas, I’m here!”

“Oh, hello, Dean!” his Dom’s deep voice called from somewhere in the house. “I’m in the kitchen! I haven’t burned anything yet!”

“I can tell,” Dean laughed, walking toward the sound of Castiel and clattering cookware. “Good job.”

He found Castiel pulling a pan of cheesy green beans from the oven when he entered the kitchen, the other man looking only slightly frazzled. He turned off the oven and the stove, put a lid over the pan of chicken sitting on one of the burners, turned, and gave Dean a warm smile that just about melted his insides. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean grinned at him. “Hey, Cas. That looks really good. Nice job not burning it.”

Castiel laughed, a sound that made Dean’s stomach do happy little flip-flops. “Yes, well, I took your advice and turned down the heat. Going slower does wonders. Grab a plate, you arrived at the perfect time.”

Dean smiled and grabbed a plate from Castiel’s cupboards, handing one to his Dom. Some nights, he arrived and cooked for Castiel, especially since Castiel usually ended up burning his first attempt at dinner. They alternated who cooked, since eating a meal together was always part of their pre-scene ritual.

While they ate, they talked about what they’d done over the week. Dean told Castiel about an old Chevelle he’d been helping his boss fix up for a particularly picky customer, and Castiel detailed all the various challenges that came with trying to give consultation advice to a CEO who didn’t really want help with her business.

As they talked easily and ate, Dean settled into the feeling of just being around Castiel. It was different than being around anyone else, he was sure of it. Castiel just gave off an aura of warmth and serenity. Dean was positive that even if he was having the worst day possible, just being around Cas for a few minutes would immediately make him feel better. His Dom just had that feeling around him. It was hard to explain.

After a very delicious dinner, Dean insisted on doing the dishes. As he cleaned up the kitchen, he mentally sought out the place in his mind where he could feel relaxed and safe with Castiel while letting the man take the reins for a while. When he finished wiping down the counters after putting the last dish in the drainboard, he found his Dom watching him expectantly from the other side of the kitchen island.

“Are you ready to begin the scene?” Castiel asked him.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replied easily.

“Good boy,” Castiel praised, sending a warm shiver down Dean’s spine. “What are your colors?”

“Green, yellow, and red, sir,” Dean recited. “I’m green.”

Castiel gave him a fond look. “Already on top of it, aren’t you? You’re going to be my good boy tonight?” At Dean’s shy nod, he smiled. “I want you to go into the bedroom, get undressed, and lie down on the bed for me. I’ll come in in a second.”

Dean nodded and did as he was told, heart beating a little faster than normal with anticipation. When he entered the guest bedroom, he looked around for anything that might give him a clue as to how this scene was going to go, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. Swallowing past his dry mouth, Dean undressed and began to shakily fold his clothes in a neat stack.

The sheets were cool and silky against his skin as Dean climbed up on the big guest bed and laid down in the center of it. He turned his head toward the door, listening as his Dom moved about the house. It seemed to take forever and no time at all before he was finally coming down the hall and entering the bedroom.

Dean’s heart skipped a little at the sight of Castiel as he appeared in the doorway. His Dom had rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows. His tie was hanging loosely around his neck, where it had been during dinner. He looked like pure sin as he crossed the room and stood by the bed next to Dean, one hand coming out to stroke soothingly through the submissive’s hair.

“Alright, sweet boy. Do you remember your safewords?” he asked. Dean nodded, not trusting his voice at the moment. Castiel gave him a small, warm smile. “Good. Know that you can use them at any time, and I won’t be angry in the slightest. I want to know that you feel safe and comfortable. The moment you don’t, you’ll tell me, correct?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean promised, his voice raspy with nerves.

“Okay. I want you to sit up for me, please. I’m going to do something that will hopefully help to keep your mind from getting confused,” Castiel said. As he spoke, he turned around and headed for the dresser against the adjacent wall. Dean watched somewhat anxiously as his Dom crouched down in front of one of the drawers and began to rifle through it. “Do you think you’ll be able to tell me some things about what you might find triggering about a blindfold? If not, that’s perfectly okay.”

Dean swallowed. What he found triggering about a blindfold? Fuck, where did he start? “Um, I guess I just… I don’t like not being able to see,” he said, which sounded all kinds of dumb when it came out. Dean hurried to explain. “I mean, like… If I can’t see, I don’t know what’s coming next or… or where my Dom is.”

“And what about not being able to see me is frightening?” Castiel asked, standing. In his arms was a bundle of rope and a couple other things. Dean stared at the rope as he tried to formulate a response.

“I don’t—um…” Dean trailed off, swallowing as he tried to focus. Come on, stop being a pussy. Nothing’s even happened yet. “It’s not… It’s not you, sir. I’m not scared of you. But, um… if I c-can’t see you—I mean, if I can’t see the Dom, then, um… Then I can’t see what’s coming next. Like, wh-where they’re gonna hit me next.” Or how hard. Or how much. Or with what.

Castiel stopped next to the edge of the bed and looked at Dean with serious blue eyes. “I will not be hitting you during this scene, sweetheart. I want to make that clear.”

Dean exhaled, some of the tension he hadn’t even known he’d been carrying easing inside of him. “Okay. And, um, the… the rope?” He stared at the pale rope, trying not to let his anxiety show on his face. “Can you, um… Can you not bind my arms? I just… I don’t like not being able to move.”

Castiel’s gaze softened. “I wasn’t going to bind your limbs, sweetheart. I just wanted to make a harness for you so you remember that I’m here and that I’m keeping you safe. Is that going to be okay?”

Dean relaxed even further, relief swelling inside of him. Castiel was going to take care of him. His Dom knew what he was doing. Dean just needed to trust him. “Yeah, that’s good, sir. Thank you.”

Castiel gave him a small, somewhat sad smile. “Of course, sweet boy. Come here, now. Let me start the tie.”

Dean scooted over to the edge of the bed with his back to his Dom, allowing him to begin to loop the soft rope around his torso. It was a little tighter than normal, not enough to restrict Dean’s breathing, but enough to remind him that it was there every time his chest expanded when he inhaled. The feeling was nice. It helped him sink a little deeper into the soft headspace in his head, made him feel like he was being held.

“I didn’t used to hate blindfolds,” Dean murmured as his Dom began to wrap the rope around him, weaving a pattern that cradled Dean in a safe, firm embrace. “I kinda liked them, actually. They made everything else feel like more, if that, um, makes any sense.”

“Of course,” Castiel said. “Blindfolds heighten your other senses by taking away your sight.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, nodding. “But, um… Sometimes my other Doms used that against me. Blindfolds made punishments really scary. I couldn’t, um… I couldn’t see when th-they were gonna hit me. And it really fucked with my head, ‘cause it really hurt, and I couldn’t tell where it was gonna hurt, or how long it was going to last.”

There was a pause, Castiel’s hands stalling in their smooth, practiced motions. Dean tensed, wondering for half a second if he’d somehow done something wrong. Before he could really panic, Castiel’s warm, chapped lips pressed a gentle kiss at the base of his neck, right on the first knob of his spine.

“I’m sorry that happened to you, sweet boy. You didn’t deserve it,” Castiel whispered, his voice rough. “You’re safe with me.”

“I know I am,” Dean said, exhaling. “Th-Thank you, sir.”

He was quiet as his Dom finished the last of the harness, unwilling to get into the details of his worst experiences. He hoped what he’d said was enough to give Castiel a small idea of what he was dealing with, because Dean wasn’t sure he was going to be able to explain the specifics of things without launching himself into a bad headspace.

Castiel paused as he finished the last loop, his big, warm hands resting gently on the sides of Dean’s torso. “How does that feel? Tight? Any pinching?”

“No, sir,” Dean said, closing his eyes a little as he got used to the feeling. He took a few exaggerated breaths, just to feel the harness press into his skin. “It feels good. Thank you, sir.”

Castiel kissed the top of his spine again. “I’m going to blindfold you now, alright? Remember your safewords. If you can’t speak for some reason, you can either pinch me or knock your hand on the headboard three times, okay?”

Dean swallowed, his throat suddenly much tighter than before. “Yes, sir.”

“Good boy.” Castiel shifted behind him, grabbing something from the bedside table. Dean waited in tense silence for a moment, then jerked as Castiel’s hands suddenly appeared in front of him, holding a strip of dark fabric. Castiel paused when Dean flinched back into his chest, his breathing calm and steady in Dean’s ear. “Shh, sweetheart. You’re safe. Do you need to safeword?”

“N-No,” Dean whispered. “Sorry, I just… Just reacted. ‘S okay, I’m green.”

“Okay, sweet boy. I’m going to do it now,” Castiel told him. He brought the blindfold forward again, and this time, Dean stayed in one place. He held his breath as Castiel pulled the fabric over his eyes and pressed some sort of velcro flap closed behind his head, effectively cutting off his sight.

Strong arms pulled him back against a warm, firm chest. Dean swallowed and leaned into his Dom’s embrace, fighting to breathe past the sudden panic that gripped him.

The complete lack of sight was disarming. At first, the harness around Dean’s chest and the tightness of Castiel’s arms around him actually worked to increase his terror. In the blind darkness, Dean forced himself to think through the situation and remember where he was.

The harness was there, pressing against him, holding him just as tightly as his Dom was. He was safe. Castiel was protecting him. His Dom was right there, not moving, not trying to hurt him. Nothing bad was going to happen. Even though Dean couldn’t see, even though he couldn’t tell what was coming, he was safe because Castiel was right there. He wouldn’t hurt Dean. He wouldn’t. The more Dean focused on that, the more his fear gradually lessened.

Dean breathed through his nose and focused on the warm, sweet scent of Castiel’s cologne, the feeling of the buttons on the Dom’s dress shirt pressing up against his bare back. His knees were beginning to ache slightly from kneeling on the soft mattress in an awkward position for so long. Dean focused on all the little physical sensations, trying to keep his mind from descending into painful memories.

“Such a good boy for me,” Castiel murmured, his deep voice raspy and soothing in Dean’s ear. “You’re doing so well, honeybee. What a good boy you’re being for me. Can you give me a color, sweetheart? How are you feeling?”

Dean exhaled, leaning back into his Dom. He relished the firm support of Castiel’s chest, the safety of being able to fall backward and be caught no matter what. “Green, sir,” he whispered. “‘M okay. Just need to breathe.”

“Okay, honeybee, that’s fine,” Castiel said slowly, calmly. Dean allowed the warmth of the pet name to wash over him, soothing the panic in his chest. This was okay. He felt okay like this. In Castiel’s arms, with the harness wrapped around him and his Dom holding him firmly, he felt safe.

Dean didn’t even notice that his head had tipped forward until his chin brushed against the fabric of Castiel’s dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He’d relaxed against his Dom even more than he’d thought. “I’m okay,” he murmured, half to himself. “‘M okay.”

“Good boy,” Castiel murmured. He stroked a thumb against Dean’s left bicep, leaving a wide arc of warm, tingling skin in its wake. “You’re doing so well, sweet boy. I’m so proud of you.”

Dean felt a happy shiver run through him. He was doing okay. He was being good, pleasing his Dom. And everything was okay, because he felt safe even though his sight was gone. He was doing it. He was… he was doing it.

Castiel’s arms loosened slightly, but Dean’s panic spiked only a little bit. It was a low, simmering fear in the background, like his brain was trying to tell him that he was supposed to be panicking, but he was too focused on how good everything else felt to remember.

“Can you lay down for me, sweetheart?” Castiel asked, his voice low and quiet. “Lay down in the center of the bed for me again.”

Dean lurched forward a little, unsure. He forgot for a whole three seconds that his arms were unbound, but when he remembered, he felt out for where he’d been resting before and went to lay down.

Almost immediately, he could feel Castiel’s absence. His skin was cold in the chill air of the room, and without the warm weight of his Dom, he was untethered and alone. The darkness suddenly seemed much more volatile. Dean tensed, lifting his head, the blood roaring in his ears so he couldn’t hear anything but his own pounding heartbeat.

“Sir?” he rasped, his voice breaking on sudden panic. “Sir—”

“Shh, I’m here,” Castiel soothed. The mattress dipped next to Dean, and then there was a hand on the right side of his torso, at the end of his ribcage. He flinched violently at the unexpected contact, but Castiel kept his palm right where it was, a soothing, gentle weight. “It’s okay, sweetheart. You’re safe. What’s your color?”

“Green,” Dean said, even though he was getting close to yellow. “Don’t let go, sir, please, I don’t like it.” He sounded needy, and he was begging, but he didn’t even care. The panic was roaring too loudly in his ears, having gone from low and simmering to boiling in less than a second. God, all he wanted to do was curl up in a ball to shield the soft parts of his stomach, but Castiel had asked him to lay down. The only thing Dean wanted to do more than protect himself was be good. He had to be good.

“Okay, sweetheart, I won’t let go,” Castiel soothed. “It’s okay, honeybee. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here.”

As he spoke, the mattress shifted under his weight. Dean jerked in surprise as his Dom’s knees settled on either side of his thighs. Castiel lowered himself down so he was blanketing Dean’s body with his own, supporting himself on his elbows so he didn’t crush his submissive. Underneath him, Dean trembled.

“Sorry,” he whispered, feeling ashamed of himself. He shouldn’t be so scared. He shouldn’t need Castiel to be touching him at all times. This was ridiculous.

“Shh, no apologies,” Castiel murmured.

His body was warm and gloriously heavy against Dean’s. Dean tried to focus on that, his muscles relaxing minutely into the mattress as he relished the feeling of his Dom pressed against him. This was good. This was okay. He could do this.

They laid like that for a long time. Castiel stayed on top of Dean until Dean’s racing heartbeat had calmed and the roaring of blood had faded from his ears. When he was back to that calm, semi-relaxed state he’d been in before, his Dom pressed a series of soft kisses along his collarbone.

“What’s your color, honeybee?”

Dean exhaled, long and slow. “Green,” he said, much more confidently than before. He felt okay enough to tentatively add, “Sir? Can you, um… Can you please take off your shirt? Wanna feel you.”

He couldn’t see his Dom’s answering smile, but he could hear it in his voice. “Of course, sweet boy. I’m going to lean back now, alright? I won’t stop touching you.”

“Okay,” Dean whispered.

He listened as Castiel shifted, felt the warmth leave him as his Dom pushed himself up and leaned back so he was sitting on Dean’s thighs instead of laying against him. The weight of him on Dean’s legs was pleasant. He focused on listening for the rustle of clothing and the soft sound of buttons as Castiel peeled off his dress shirt and whatever undershirt he’d been wearing underneath.

Dean heard something land lightly on the mattress a few feet away, near the foot of the bed. Then Castiel’s weight was shifting again and his Dom was leaning back down, this time with his shirt off and his skin gloriously bare against Dean’s.

Dean exhaled, his soul filling with joy. There was something inexplicably calming about feeling Castiel’s warmth soaking into him. The weight of his Dom on top of him, heavy and secure, made the tension bleed out of his muscles like nothing else. Dean felt like he was floating above himself, getting drunk on the skin-to-skin contact. He understood why that kind of shit was so important with newborns. It soothed an ache inside him that he hadn’t even known was there.

Castiel gave a soft chuckle as Dean nuzzled happily into his neck, making soft, pleased noises. “Good boy. You’re doing so well, sweetheart. I’m so proud of you,” he murmured. Dean shivered at the feeling of his Dom’s breath skating across the bare skin of his collarbone.

“Feels good,” Dean mumbled, surprised at the lack of control he had over his words. God, was he that deep already? “Feel safe.”

Two light, gentle kisses were pressed to his eyelids through the blindfold. “You’re very safe, honeybee. I’ll take care of you,” Castiel promised.

Dean relaxed the rest of the way, letting the last of the tension flow from his muscles. He let his head fall back from where he’d been nosing into Castiel’s warm neck. His Dom pressed more kisses to his face, featherlight and gentle, and Dean felt his consciousness begin to float.

Now that he wasn’t panicking, he could feel how much his body had been subconsciously interested in his current position. Castiel’s weight, warm and heavy on top of him, was making heat pool in his lower gut. When Castiel shifted a little, Dean whimpered slightly at the sensation of his bare erection brushing against the fabric of his Dom’s slacks.

“Do you want to play a little game, sweet boy?” Castiel asked from right next to his left ear, his voice low and gravelly.

A shiver ran down Dean’s spine, hot and sparking. His mouth was dry when he tried to swallow. God, how was it possible for his Dom to be so hot when he couldn’t even see him? “Yes please, sir,” Dean said, somewhat breathlessly.

Castiel shifted his weight again, lifting himself off of Dean. There was a sudden kiss at the corner of Dean’s mouth, gentle and soft. “Good boy,” Castiel whispered, his breath warm against Dean’s face. “Here are the rules: You’re going to put your hands right here. You’re going to keep them here no matter what. Unless you need to safeword by hitting the headboard or pinching me, you’ll stay still and be my good boy.”

As he spoke, he grabbed Dean’s wrists and pressed them firmly into the mattress, about a foot away from his sides. Dean felt heat swirl through him at the slight manhandling. He pushed against Castiel’s hands a little, just so he could feel the strength of his Dom’s grip. “Okay, sir.”

“Your only job is to stay still and tell me how you’re feeling,” Castiel told him. “If you’re scared, you’ll tell me. And if you feel fine, or if something feels good…” He dragged his nose slowly down Dean’s neck, over his collarbone, pausing where he could breathe against Dean’s left nipple, making the sub shiver. “You’ll tell me then, too.”

“Yes, si—ah! God,” Dean cried, startled when Castiel suddenly laved his tongue over his nipple. Fuck, he hadn’t known how stiff and sensitive they’d gotten in response to the chill in the room and the hot Dom straddling his thighs.

Castiel pressed Dean’s wrists firmly into the mattress, sending a swirl of pleasurable heat through him. “Keep your arms here, sweet boy,” Castiel warned him. “I won’t hold them. My hands will be otherwise… occupied.”

A soft noise escaped Dean’s throat before he could stop it. He felt Castiel’s smile against his chest, where his Dom was still leaning over him. When he released Dean’s wrists, Dean curled his hands into the bedsheets, determined not to move his arms no matter what. He was going to be good. He was going to be good for Castiel.

It was quickly made clear how challenging that would be, however, when his Dom leaned down and pressed his mouth to Dean’s nipple again, applying a delicious suction that had no business feeling so fucking good. All Dean wanted to do was lift his hand and bury it in Castiel’s hair while begging him to keep going, but he curled his fingers tightly into the bedsheets and stayed resolutely still.

“Don’t hold back your noises, sweet boy,” Castiel reminded him. “I want to hear them.”

He leaned down and began to suck at Dean’s other nipple, making the sub moan. He tried not to buck into the feeling, remembering that he had to stay still. His mouth fell open at the feeling of Castiel’s tongue laving over the sensitive skin, the wet heat followed almost immediately by glorious suction.

A finger suddenly stroked his dick, trailing just the lightest touch up the underside. Dean yelped, shocked at both the pleasurable sensation and at the realization of how fucking hard he was. Jesus, he didn’t think he’d been this turned on in a long time, and that was saying something.

Castiel chuckled darkly, his breath puffing against Dean’s nipple. “Good boy. What beautiful sounds you make,” he praised. As if for a reward, he trailed a featherlight touch up Dean’s throbbing cock again.

Dean whimpered as his Dom began to suck his nipple again, almost distracting him from the barely-there touches to his aching dick. After a few torturous grazes, Castiel’s thumb stayed on the head, sweeping lightly over the tip to gather the beading precum. Dean couldn’t withhold a trembling whimper at the sensation, his thighs shaking with the effort of not bucking into the touch.

“Sir, please,” Dean begged, his voice weak.

Castiel leaned back, his mouth suddenly disappearing from Dean’s chest. Dean’s skin was so hypersensitive now, he could still feel the heat of his Dom, even when he was only leaning over him. “Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice rough and deep. Dean shivered with want, fighting back the desperate urge to push his hips up into the touch as his Dom stroked a thumb across his slit. “Tell me what you want, sweet boy.”

“Please, sir,” Dean breathed, raising his head and then dropping it back against the pillow in helpless frustration. “Please, touch me.”

Castiel chuckled, warm and dark. “I am touching you, sweet boy. I’m doing it right now.” He stroked his thumb against Dean’s aching dick again, his touch featherlight, so torturously faint. Dean whimpered, his hips straining against his own control, hands fisting the bedsheets tight enough to ache.

“Sir, please,” he whimpered, halfway to tears because of a few simple touches. God, this was what Castiel did to him. “Please, more.”

“More? You’re going to have to be a little more specific, sweet boy,” Castiel murmured. His touch disappeared from Dean’s cock completely, his hands pressing against Dean’s torso instead. Dean couldn’t withhold a trembling little half-sob as his Dom’s palms slowly made their way up and down his sides, the calluses dragging deliciously against his skin. His aching dick, hot and throbbing and pitiful, twitched against nothing but cool air.

“Please, sir,” he begged, suddenly unsure of what he wanted and how to convey it. He wanted his Dom to touch his cock, obviously, but he didn’t know if he’d earned it, if he was able to ask for that. At this point, what he’d asked for was pretty accurate; he wanted Castiel to touch him and to keep touching him. It didn’t really matter to his fuzzy brain where exactly that was.

The heat of his Dom returned, warm and enticing against his chest. “You beg so prettily, sweetheart,” Castiel whispered in his ear. The lust in his voice sent shivers down Dean’s spine. “Such a good boy for me.”

Dean exhaled shakily, squeezing his eyes shut even though the blindfold eliminated his sight. God, he’d forgotten how much wearing a blindfold heightened his senses. He could feel the faint heat of Castiel’s hand near his cock, hovering, waiting. Every soft breath of his Dom near his ear was audible. The pounding of his own heart, the pulsing of his blood in his aching dick… It was all so painfully there.

Castiel shifted, moving away from Dean for a second. Dean’s ears picked up on the sound of him grabbing something off the bedside table. There was a pause, a click, and then the sound of something squirting from a bottle.

Lube.

Dean whimpered. “Sir…”

“You’re being so good for me, sweet boy,” Castiel praised, his weight settling back on Dean’s thighs again. “Such a good boy. I’m going to make you feel good, sweetheart. You can come whenever you want to, alright?”

Dean nodded eagerly, thinking in the back of his mind that it sounded almost too good to be true. Yeah, he’d been obedient and somewhat brave when it came to the blindfold, but surely…

Castiel wrapped his hand around the base of Dean’s cock, the loosest, lightest grip imaginable, and then began a slow, teasing slide upward. Dean whimpered. Oh. So that was the catch.

The lube was warm in Castiel’s hand, the slide delicious as he slowly, so painfully slowly, stroked up and down. He chuckled in dark amusement as Dean gave a pitiful whine, his muscles straining as he forced himself to keep still. Fuck, he had to be good. Castiel had told him to be good. He had to be good…

Castiel’s mouth was suddenly at his jawline, pressing hot, wet kisses to the smooth skin as he slowly trailed down Dean’s throat to his chest. Dean tipped his head to the side on instinct, giving his Dom full access as his fuzzy brain fought to process all the sensations at once. There was the slick, too-good-but-not-enough slide of Castiel’s hand on his cock, there was the warm heat of his mouth on Dean’s throat, there was the press of ropes against Dean’s chest when he inhaled, the feeling of the sheets being crumpled underneath his hands as he fought to stay where his Dom had put him.

“See what can happen when you’re blindfolded, sweetheart?” Castiel breathed against the skin of his collarbone. “See how good it can be? This is how you deserve to be treated, sweet boy. This is how your body deserves to feel.” To punctuate his words, he tightened his grip around Dean’s cock and gave him a single, satisfying stroke before returning to the gentle teasing.

Dean cried out at the sensation, pressing the crown of his skull back against the pillow under his head. “Please, sir, please, please, please,” he babbled. He wasn’t sure what he wanted more: to buck his hips up into Castiel’s hand, or to release the sheets and put his hands all over his Dom, to feel the expanse of his warm skin underneath his fingertips.

Castiel chuckled and began to mouth at his nipples again, his teeth more prominent this time. He grazed the sharp edges of them against Dean’s skin, alternating between licking and sucking and giving just the slightest hint of biting somewhere in the middle of all of it.

Dean’s brain was having a hard time processing all of it. The sensations were just so intense, so much more than he was used to, yet somehow so much less at the same time. Castiel was barely touching him, and yet Dean was going half-insane with need and sensitivity.

“Please, sir, please,” he begged when Castiel tightened his grip a fraction of a degree, giving just the barest hint of another satisfying stroke of Dean’s aching dick. “Please, more. I’ll be good, I’ll be good, just… please.”

“You are good, sweet boy,” Castiel told him, still stroking him so maddeningly lightly. “You’re my good boy. You’re being so good.”

“Then—sir,” Dean half-sobbed, nearly out of his mind with desperation. He just wanted a firmer touch. Just a little more pressure. Just a little more. “Please, sir, please.”

Castiel cursed softly, his voice thick with lust. He leaned back, and Dean caught the wood-sweet scent of him as he went. The hand planted by Dean’s head, keeping his Dom’s body supported, disappeared. A moment later, the squirt of more lube sounded.

Dean whimpered as a second set of slick noises sounded, this time near his dick but not on it. He could hear the heaviness of Castiel’s breathing, the sudden change in his smooth, effortless teasing of Dean’s dick. It didn’t get better, God no, but now Dean could only focus on the sound of his Dom jerking himself off instead.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you look so good like this,” Castiel panted, the slick sounds making Dean’s abdominal muscles clench involuntarily with the need to push into the featherlight grip on his dick. “So beautiful and needy, just for me. I love hearing you beg, sweet boy. Love how—fuck—how good you’re being for me, just putting your hands there, only my orders and your obedience keeping them in place.”

Dean whimpered pitifully, leg muscles jumping involuntarily. God, he wanted to move. He wanted to move so badly, to buck his hips up, to use his hands to jerk himself off instead, to lift the blindfold so he could see how hot his Dom looked stroking himself. And that was the thing, wasn’t it? Dean wanted to take the blindfold off so he could see Cas, not because he was scared. He wasn’t scared. He wasn’t scared at all.

“Sir, please,” he begged, thrashing his head on the pillow, because that was the only part of him he knew he could move without being disobedient. “Please, please, I wanna come.”

“Do you think you earned it, sweetheart?” Castiel panted, his voice sounding even more wrecked than before. “Do you think you’ve been my good boy? Do you deserve to come?”

It felt like a trick question. It felt like the kind of thing a Dom would ask right before hitting Dean for daring to hope that the answer was yes. But Castiel had promised that he wouldn’t hit Dean, and if there was one thing Dean’s pleasure-addled brain could latch onto right now, it was that he trusted Cas. He trusted his Dom, he trusted him, he trusted him, he trusted him…

He felt safe when he gave a tiny, tentative nod. That safe feeling only expanded when he heard Castiel release a pleased, happy groan.

“That’s right, my good boy. Come on, I want to hear you say it. Say it out loud,” he ordered, panting. It sounded like he was speeding up his hand on himself, even though his touch had all but stilled on Dean’s cock.

Desperately, Dean said, “I-I’ve been good, sir. I’ve been your good boy.” He swallowed, squeezing his closed eyes shut even tighter behind the blindfold, throwing every last bit of courage he had into the words. “I d-deserve to come, sir. Please, can I come?”

Castiel groaned. “Good boy,” he gasped. “My good, perfect boy.”

And then his hand tightened around Dean’s cock, speeding up exactly like Dean had been desperately hoping for this entire time. Dean threw his head back and cried out as his Dom began to jerk him off in earnest, the lube slippery and amazing, the pleasure amping up dizzyingly fast.

It felt like barely a moment before Dean’s whole body was convulsing, a broken cry leaving his lips as he orgasmed. Come hit his stomach, hot and plentiful, and it took his pleasure-soaked brain way too long to understand that Castiel was coming too, his spend mixing with Dean’s.

Ecstasy was a tidal wave, smashing into Dean full force. He floated in it, drowned in it, unable to do anything but go limp as pleasure flooded his body. He was practically numb with the sensation, his consciousness seeming to float above his physical self, as if he was lingering in the air above the bed instead of on it.

Though the physical pleasure crested and receded like an ocean wave, the flood of happy fuzziness in Dean’s brain lingered, carrying him to a floaty, happy place in his head. He didn’t hear Castiel ask him for his color, nor did he feel it when his Dom reached out to pull off his blindfold. Dean was too out of it to understand Castiel’s breathless words of praise when he realized his submissive was completely drunk on happy hormones, too blissed out to do anything but lie there with a small smile on his face.

Dean floated for a long time, his mind drunken with pleasure. He barely noticed Castiel slowly unbinding his harness, or the soft cloth that was used to clean the come off his stomach and chest. His Dom eventually maneuvered him under the covers and into his arms, holding Dean close when his body cooled down and he started to shiver.

Dean nuzzled into Castiel’s chest with a happy murmur, eyes half-lidded. The room was dim, the space under the covers warm, and Dean felt like he was in heaven. God, this was perfection. The only thing his drunken brain could make of the whole situation was that this is heaven. I’ve never been happier than I am right now, right this second.

Castiel had pulled Dean half on top of him, his arms holding the floppy submissive close to his body. One of his hands stroked soothing lines up and down Dean’s back. The other cupped Dean’s head against his chest, his fingers carding through Dean’s soft hair gently. Every time he lightly scratched his nails against Dean’s scalp, the sub hummed happily. Dean’s fingers curled loosely in the soft sheets around them, his grip weak from how hard he’d been holding onto the blankets earlier.

In his ear, he could half-understand the words of praise Castiel was speaking to him, his voice soaked with happiness and pride. “Such a good, perfect boy,” he was saying, his chest rumbling as he spoke. “I’m so proud of you, honeybee, you did so well. You were more amazing than I could have ever imagined.”

The words sent physical tingles down Dean’s spine. His own throat vibrated with happy noises that were inaudible to his ears. He nuzzled tiredly into the soft, warm skin of Castiel’s neck, burying himself in the safety of his Dom’s hold. God, he could stay there forever, warm and protected and held by someone who cared about him.

Dean laid there for an indeterminable amount of time. He couldn’t have known how long he floated, but eventually, the wave of hormones receded slightly and he came gently back to earth.

His body felt really sore, now that he was aware enough to sense it. Dean winced as he realized how tense he’d been throughout their scene. It hadn’t been bad tension, but his muscles still ached in the aftermath. He purred happily as the hand that had been stroking up and down his back began to massage his shoulders gently. Castiel’s chest rumbled with amusement beneath him.

“Are you back with me, sweetheart?” his Dom asked, his voice soft.

Dean gave a sleepy grumble. “Mmm…,” he replied. “Mmhmm.”

“How are you feeling? You can give me a number with your fingers. Three is good, one is not good, and two is in the middle,” Castiel told him. Dean made a shaky three with the hand resting on his Dom’s chest. Fuck, how were his fingers sore too? His Dom moved his hand from Dean’s head to cover the hand on his chest, his palm large and warm. “That’s good, sweetheart. I just want you to know that this was a heavy scene, so we’re going to have to do some extensive aftercare to make sure you stay at a three, alright? How does a bath sound?”

Dean hummed, the idea taking twice as long as usual to process in his sluggish brain. “W’th you,” he mumbled into Castiel’s chest.

His Dom gave a soft chuckle that rumbled underneath Dean’s cheek. “Whatever you want, honeybee.”

Dean nodded happily, rubbing his face against the soft skin of Castiel’s strong chest. “Mmkay.”

His Dom laughed again. “Okay. That means we have to get up,” he warned. “Do you want to walk, or do you want me to carry you?”

Dean shifted his head so he could blink up at his Dom’s soft blue eyes. “‘M too heavy,” he slurred.

“I can assure you that I don’t maintain this physique by sitting at a desk all day,” Castiel said. He squeezed Dean gently, as if Dean needed a reminder of how muscular and hot his arms were. “I could carry you just fine.”

“I c’n walk,” Dean decided, his cheeks heating. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself once his brain came back online if he knew that he’d willingly let Castiel carry him when he was perfectly capable of walking on his own.

He quickly came to regret that decision when he was forced to sit up by Castiel, who suddenly decided to be mean by pushing him to get up. His Dom further enhanced his cruelty by pulling the warm blankets off of Dean, laughing at his disgruntled face as he gently urged the submissive to follow him to the bathroom. Dean’s resolve further crumbled as he remembered that the master bathroom was all the way down the hall.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Castiel encouraged, amusement twisting his mouth into a half-smile that he looked like he was trying hard to fight. “It’ll feel better when you’re in the hot water. Remember how deep my tub is? You said you wanted to try it out last time you were here.”

Dean grumbled and reluctantly climbed off the bed, figuring that he had said that, and that he was a little curious about how it felt to be almost completely submerged in hot water. His legs were practically jelly, but with Castiel’s patient assistance, he made it out of the bedroom, down the hall, across the master bedroom, and into the bathroom.

Once they were inside, Castiel plugged the tub and started the water. His deep-soaker tub was a great stone bowl embedded in a raised platform with a little step to access it. Dean stared at the water as it rushed out of the four faucets, hypnotized by the sound.

Castiel kissed his bare shoulder gently. “I’m going to get the aftercare items from the bedroom,” he told Dean. “It will only take thirty seconds, I promise. You can count if you need. While I’m gone, I want you to choose one of those oils to put in the water, alright?”

Dean nodded slowly, his brain taking a while to process what was being said. He stared at the wide array of different oils arranged neatly on the shelf of the bathroom wall. What would putting oil in the water do? Make it smell good? Yeah, probably. Dean was pretty sure he remembered Sammy talking about the benefits of essential oils or some other hippie bullshit. But Cas had been the one to tell him to choose, so Dean was gonna do that.

What did he want to smell like? Not strawberry, that was girly. Lavender? No. Peppermint? Maybe… Ooh, peppermint and evergreen. Yeah, that one sounded good.

Dean was so focused on his task that he didn’t notice Castiel was gone until the Dom came back, carrying some towels and a few other things. He’d gotten rid of his slacks, which he’d still been wearing during their scene. Dean stared at him in all his naked glory, too busy drooling to feel disgruntled that he’d just been distracted like a toddler.

“That’s a good choice, sweetheart,” Castiel said, kissing Dean on the forehead as he took the bottle of oil from him. He proceeded to drop some into the rapidly-rising water.

Dean inhaled as the scent of peppermint and evergreen trees began to fill the bathroom. The heat of the water made the air steamy and slightly less chilled. Castiel’s arms around him kept him from being too cold as they waited for the water to reach a good level.

When the water had filled the bowl halfway, Castiel shut it off. In the sudden silence of the bathroom, he put his hands on Dean’s shivering form and gently directed him into the bath.

Dean groaned in relief as he sank into the hot water. It was so hot that it kind of hurt at first, but that was quickly soothed away by the feeling of being completely immersed in delicious warmth. The only thing that was missing was Castiel. The space felt too big without him. Dean blinked up at his Dom and lifted a hand, uncertain. “Sir…?”

Castiel gave him a soft smile and stepped into the bath, sliding in right behind Dean so he could wrap his arms around him and hold him against his chest. “Not ‘sir,’ sweetheart. You need to call me Cas, remember? Our scene is over, honeybee.”

“Oh, yeah,” Dean mumbled, sinking down a little. The water level had risen now that there were two grown men in the tub. When Dean sank back, it rose up to his neck. He closed his eyes in bliss, leaning against Castiel’s strong chest. His Dom’s knees came up to bracket his, his arms looping around Dean. It was a little disconcerting how easily they fit together.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Castiel asked gently. “Still a three?”

“Mmm,” Dean hummed. He figured he should give a little more, so he forced his limp brain to actually form some words. “Feel good. Kinda tired.”

“That’s understandable,” Castiel said. “Does anything hurt?”

Dean frowned, taking stock. “No,” he said, his sluggish brain waking up a little as he began to force it to function. “Kinda sore, but I’m not hurt.” He tipped his head back, the water soaking the back of his hair, and smiled up at Castiel. “Thanks for takin’ such good care of me, Cas.”

Castiel’s smile was warm, sweet, and a little bashful. “Of course, sweetheart. You make it easy, you know. You were very good for me.”

It was Dean’s turn to be bashful now. He brought his head back down and blew bubbles in the water, wishing there was a way to turn off his blush. “Thanks.”

His Dom squeezed him, nuzzling his nose into the top of Dean’s hair. “I’m serious. You were very good,” he said. “I’m so proud of you, Dean. You surpassed all my expectations. You were very brave, honeybee. I’m honored that you trusted me tonight.”

Dean’s blush, if possible, got even worse. Part of him wanted to brush off the praise, more of an instinct than anything else. He forced himself to let the words soak in instead. Though some small, fundamental part of him rebelled at the idea of just allowing himself to be praised, the majority of him consumed the words like he’d been starving for Castiel’s approval his entire life.

He blew bubbles for a little bit, trying to gather his thoughts. Castiel let him, simply holding Dean quietly as the sub tried to rein in all the different things flying through his brain.

Finally, he said, “It kinda makes me wonder what else there is.”

Castiel hummed. “What do you mean, honeybee?”

Dean swallowed, shrugging shyly. “Like, what else was ruined by bad Doms. I… I liked the blindfold. I guess I just… Now I’m just wondering if there’s other stuff that I might like too, but I just did it wrong with other people.” He swirled his hands just under the surface of the water, watching it make little ripples. “Whenever I do stuff with you, I know it’s the right way.”

Castiel squeezed him gently. “I’m honored, sweetheart,” he said quietly. “I’m glad you feel safe. And I would love to explore with you, if that’s something you want. I liked the blindfold too.”

Dean smiled a little, glad. He relished that feeling for a moment, before a thought struck him. He turned to look at Castiel curiously. “Is there anything you really like?”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?” he asked.

Dean shrugged. “I think it’s super hot when you manhandle me. Is there anything that makes you… I don’t know, really into it?” God, he was wording this like a fucking teenage virgin. He was blushing like one, too.

Thankfully, Castiel seemed quite amused. “I find it endearing when you blush,” he said, as if that was gonna help Dean’s red-faced situation in the slightest. “I like when you cry, I think. But I believe my favorite part of our scenes is when you fully give in to me. Everything. When you look at me like I’ve hung the moon, like I’m the only one who can give you what you need. It makes me feel powerful. Powerful and needed, and that’s… That’s intoxicating.” He paused, looking a little embarrassed and a little shy. “Do you think that’s a bad thing?”

Dean snorted. “Not any worse than my need to be held down and lovingly beaten within an inch of my life.”

Castiel laughed, the sound ringing joyfully around in the small bathroom space. “I find that arousing as well, if only because I know you need it sometimes. I like taking care of you.”

Dean swallowed, unable to look at him as he processed that. He found it hard to believe that he, Dean Winchester, had ever or would ever be worthy of being cared for so deeply. How could he fully reckon what it was like for someone to care about him so much that they literally got off on making him feel happy and safe?

He had to fight for a long time with the tightness in his throat. When he finally managed to get the words through, they were broken and raspy. “You kept kissin’ me,” Dean mumbled, needing to voice the thought that had been bouncing around in his head for a while. “Through the scene, you kept… You kept kissin’ me.”

Castiel seemed to sort of freeze underneath him. “Yes,” he said. His voice had lost its warmth, as flat and still as his body had suddenly become. “Is that… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, I—” Dean stopped, forcing himself to turn and look Castiel in the eyes like a Goddamn man, because his Dom deserved to see how he felt. “I just wanted to know why you didn’t kiss me on the lips, ‘s all.”

Castiel blinked, a look of shock crossing his face before it was replaced by something that looked closest to determination. One of his hands emerged from the water to gently tip Dean’s head toward his so he could get a better angle. And then his warm, chapped lips were pressing against Dean’s before Dean could even process what was happening.

Eh, fuck processing shit. Dean closed his eyes and kissed back with everything he had.

Castiel kissed like he dommed; gently but firmly. When Dean tried to take control experimentally, Castiel nipped at his bottom lip, making Dean laugh against his mouth. When they eventually needed to get air, Dean asked breathlessly, “Guessin’ that’s not something normal scene partners do?”

“You weren’t normal from the start,” Castiel admitted. “You had to know that, right?”

Dean gave him a tiny, shy grin. “Kinda. I just didn’t want to assume anything.”

Castiel huffed. “Well, I’d say any assuming on your part ended well, so there’s really nothing wrong with it.” He gave Dean a small smile, the little expression somehow enough to light Dean up on the inside like the sun on a summer day. “Would you perhaps like to go to dinner with me sometime? Dinner that isn’t meant to end in sex, of course. Though sex wouldn’t be a bad thing, I just—”

“Yes, Cas,” Dean laughed. “Yes, I’ll go to dinner with you.”

Castiel exhaled, giving Dean a sappy grin. “Okay.”

Dean turned his head and nuzzled his Dom’s shoulder, still smiling. “Okay. But can we figure out the details later? Right now I wanna just lay here with you and breathe and stuff.”

“Breathe and stuff,” Castiel repeated dryly. “That’s a fantastic idea, Dean. Breathing is essential.”

Dean snorted and smacked him as much as he was able to underwater. “Smartass.”

Castiel hummed and kissed the back of his neck. “I thought we were breathing and stuff, Dean.”

Dean laughed and leaned his head back, resting it against Castiel’s shoulder. “Alright, alright. Breathing and stuff.” He turned around and leaned back into Castiel’s hold, allowing himself to relax again. Only one minor correction to his thoughts from before was needed. He’d been wrong about just one thing.

This was pure heaven. This right here. It was exactly where Dean wanted to be, and for the first time, he had a feeling it was exactly where he was going to stay.

With a soft exhale of contentment, Dean closed his eyes and breathed.