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It was only their third scene together outside of the club when Dean used his safeword for the first time.
In his seven years as a Dom, Castiel had only had a submissive safeword with him once, and that was just because their ropes had been a little too tight and they’d wanted them loosened. Castiel prided himself on being careful, on being attentive. And he was especially careful and especially attentive when it came to Dean.
Even if Dean hadn’t been the most perfect submissive Castiel had ever scened with, he still would have been extra cautious. He was aware of Dean’s past experiences with abusive Doms. He didn’t know the details, or to what extent Dean had been mistreated; he hadn’t yet worked up the courage to ask. Whatever he knew had been gleaned from catching little flickers of fear or old pain in Dean’s eyes when they discussed something potentially triggering.
So Castiel was careful. He knew Dean didn’t like collars, he knew that Dean didn’t like blindfolds, and he knew the sub definitely hated those two things together. Ever since he’d suggested using his belt for a spanking once and Dean had fearfully asked him just to not use the buckle, please, Cas, ‘cause it really hurts, Castiel had decided against using the cursed thing altogether.
He knew most of Dean’s triggers. Or at least, he thought he did. But God help him, he hadn’t been aware of Dean’s trauma surrounding gags, and he wasn’t lucky enough to learn about it before he trampled all over it.
Since setting up their contract a good three and a half weeks ago, Castiel and Dean had scened once a week on Friday evenings. It had quickly become Castiel’s favorite part of the week, though he tried to pretend otherwise. Castiel didn’t even care when Gabriel complained that he was no fun because he didn’t want to go out on Friday nights anymore. Spending time with Dean was much more fulfilling than going to a nameless bar and getting flirted with by random strangers.
Castiel knew when he opened the door the night of their third scene that he was in for an interesting time. He’d learned to recognize the different faces of his submissive, and the Dean smiling back at him from his doorstep was as bratty as the time they’d first met.
Castiel was proved correct over the course of the next hour. Their routine before scening was to eat a snack and catch up, and then launch into the night’s more exciting activities. Throughout their conversation, Dean was filled with that brazen confidence that Castiel had learned came with a healthy dose of defiance when it came time for his sub to get on his knees.
True to form, when they finished eating and had cleaned up, there was a gleam of determination in Dean’s green eyes as he led the way to Castiel’s guest bedroom.
“Any particular reason for the attitude tonight, sweet boy?” Castiel questioned as he shut the door behind them both, turning to raise an eyebrow at Dean. He took pleasure in seeing a flicker of surprise flash across the sub’s face, even though it didn’t last long.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said airily, turning to face Castiel head-on. His chin was tipped up a little in a subconscious show of defiance.
Castiel chuckled. “If that’s how it’s going to be, fine. I suppose I’ll have to put my plans for tonight aside. I’d intended to do something special because I know we haven’t talked all week, but if you’re going to be a brat…”
“Maybe you should’a thought about that, if you didn’t want your fucking plans wrecked,” Dean snapped. Castiel internally made note, figuring Dean was acting out because he’d felt ignored. They usually messaged each other or talked on the phone at night, but Castiel had been in Atlanta, Georgia, for a work conference and hadn’t been able to spare the time.
“Haven’t you learned by now that being bratty isn’t any way to get what you want?” Castiel asked, walking over to the drawer in his cabinet where he put his play equipment. Underneath an unassuming layer of folded sheets was a collection of toys. Castiel considered the four paddles within, wondering which one he wanted to use on Dean tonight.
“It’s gettin’ me your attention, which is more than I’ve had all week,” Dean replied snappily.
“Did you feel ignored, sweet boy?” Castiel asked, feeling only a little guilty for that. He’d been busy, and Dean was making a choice to be bratty instead of enjoying their time together. Oh, well. Castiel enjoyed correcting him almost as much as he liked everything else.
“Fuck you,” Dean grumbled.
“So rude,” Castiel hummed. He selected the heavy wooden paddle that Dean hated, complete with the holes that made it whistle when he swung it. “I suppose I’ll just have to beat that attitude out of you. Take off your clothes, fold them neatly, and go bend over the edge of the bed.”
Dean took off his clothes, left them in a heap on the floor, and walked over to the bed so he could glare at Castiel from there. Castiel was careful to keep his face completely stony and emotionless, despite his amusement. Dean had a cute “determined” face when he was dead set on being a brat.
Castiel strode over to the sub, grabbed his hair and one of his shoulders, and shoved him into position with a single powerful push. Dean grunted as his torso bounced on the bed with the force of the movement. Castiel kicked his feet into the wide stance he wanted, then grabbed the paddle where he’d tossed it on the mattress.
“I think ten will be enough,” he mused, mostly to himself.
“Ten’s a fucking warmup,” Dean muttered.
Castiel raised an eyebrow. “Eleven, then.”
“Still a fucking warmup. What, are you worried you’re gonna get tired?” Dean snarked. “Gimme twenty.”
“I’ll give you forty if you don’t control your mouth, boy,” Castiel snapped, resting the paddle on Dean’s ass warningly. He wouldn’t hit Dean as hard as he could without warming him up at least slightly first, but sometimes he liked to add that element of danger.
Unsurprisingly, Dean wasn’t deterred. “You hit like a Goddamn ninety year-old grandma. Forty’s nothin’. And I don’t think I’m gonna get any if you don’t start at some point. I’m gonna be ninety by the time we finish this thing.”
“It’s been barely five minutes,” Castiel told him coldly. “You’ve already gotten yourself up to twenty, so I suppose you received what you wanted.”
Dean snorted and wiggled his admittedly-attractive ass. “Hit me, for fuck’s sake.”
Castiel waited, just because he refused to be ordered around by the sub he was holding to the mattress beneath him. As Dean shifted underneath him, evidently about to open his mouth and start snarking again, Castiel hit him for the first time.
Dean yelped a little at the sudden pain. Castiel withheld his satisfied smirk as he began to effectively warm his submissive’s bottom, methodically raining strikes down on rapidly-pinking skin. He counted silently in his head, knowing Dean would refuse to count aloud like a good boy. Dean wasn’t very good at mentally counting when he was getting his ass spanked either, which added to the element of uncertainty that Castiel knew he was feeling.
He internally counted to twenty, then stopped. Dean was panting a little, his back muscles flexing beautifully in the golden light of the lamp on Castiel’s bedside table. He seemed slightly more relaxed, but Castiel knew better than to think he was done yet.
“Told you that would be light work,” Dean said, predictably. “You ain’t even breathing hard.”
“That was the warmup,” Castiel informed him coldly. “You told me you wanted one, or something close to that. I’m going to give you your actual punishment now.”
Dean’s snort was cut off with a grunt of agony as Castiel laid the first strike on his pink skin. Castiel expected him to keep quiet, to try to hold in his yelps of pain as much as possible, but the submissive must have been feeling extra difficult that night. He actually gave a choked laugh as Castiel laid the third strike on his right cheek, leaving a perfect impression of the holes drilled into the surface of the paddle for half a second.
“That all you got?” Dean challenged, yelping a little when Castiel struck him again.
“You’re only prolonging this,” Castiel warned him, frowning down at the half of Dean’s face that wasn’t pressed into the mattress.
“Good. Maybe I’ll be able to—ah—actually fuckin’ feel some—fuck—something,” Dean snarked. He squeezed his eyes shut and grit his teeth as Castiel hit him harder. “Come on, sir. Fuckin’ hit me!”
“Dean, you’re verging into dangerous territory,” Castiel snapped, getting a little frustrated. He didn’t want Dean to get to a number that was too high, since there was definitely such a thing as spanking someone too much. But Dean kept mouthing off, and Castiel knew he couldn’t let up on the pressure, or his sub would get himself into even more trouble.
He’d thought Dean had learned his lesson about being bratty to get attention during the first two scenes they’d had, but apparently not. Dean’s need to be acknowledged and reminded that he was cared for evidently ran deeper than Castiel had anticipated.
“Bullshit,” Dean panted in response to Castiel’s warning. “Certainly doesn’t feel like i—ow!”
Castiel stopped spanking him and grabbed his hair instead, causing the sub to arch off the bed at the sudden pain in his scalp. “Mouth off one more time, boy,” Castiel snarled. “Do it. I’ve got my tie right here; it’ll make the perfect gag.”
He instantly knew it was the wrong thing to say. Castiel felt Dean go tense underneath him, his body taut like an instrument string. The Dom froze, the emotions and thoughts in his head thundering to a sudden standstill.
His dread only increased when he heard Dean rasp, “Wait, wait—Yellow, Cas. Wait.”
The sound of the safeword settled like a lead weight in Castiel’s stomach. He released Dean like his skin was suddenly burning, nausea sweeping through him like a tidal wave. “What’s the matter, Dean?” he asked, words loaded with concern. “What happened?”
Dean rubbed his head with a wince, turning to face Castiel. The Dom’s stomach sank even further at the look of barely-concealed fear in Dean’s eyes. “It’s okay. I just, um… Can we not do gags? Please? I can stay quiet, I promise. I didn’t mean to, um… Didn’t mean to push too far.” He fidgeted awkwardly, looking painfully unsure. Castiel silently cursed himself.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” he rushed to say, trying to fix some of the damage he’d caused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think—”
“It’s okay, Cas. It’s not that bad,” Dean tried to assure him. Always so considerate of Castiel’s feelings, always trying to make himself less of a burden, as if he ever could be one.
“No, it’s not okay,” Castiel said, with a little too much feeling. His heart sank impossibly lower at Dean’s little flinch. He exhaled slowly and tried to soften his words, tried to remember that Dean was scared and that now was not the time to project the anger that was swirling around inside him, both at himself and at the twisted monster who’d ever given Dean a reason to fear something like a gag. “It’s not okay. I scared you, sweetheart. That’s not something I wanted to do.”
“I wasn’t scared, Cas,” Dean promised. Lied. “I swear. I trust you, and we can… We can do the gag, if you want. But I just, um… Not when I’m being punished?”
God, Castiel wished he could murder the people who had made Dean look so unsure about communicating his own needs and limits. Even more of that anger turned inward, since he knew he was half the reason Dean looked like that right now. He shouldn’t have pushed his sub. He should have been more careful with his threats. He shouldn’t have let his frustration cloud his judgment.
Trying to cover up the sick feeling in his stomach, Castiel nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s just move on, alright? Are you okay with continuing?”
“Yeah, ‘course,” Dean said, bending back over almost too eagerly. Castiel’s nausea only increased as he saw the bruises that were already beginning to form on Dean’s ass.
He forced the feelings away, trying to sink back into the calm authority of his headspace. As he began to strike Dean again, finishing the last part of his punishment, Castiel felt himself sort of half-settle. It was enough stability for him to last through the rest of the scene, where he finished punishing Dean, enjoyed a very talented blowjob, and took his submissive apart with his tongue before letting him come.
If Castiel was being honest, one of his favorite parts of the scene was afterward. When Dean was limp and floppy, sated and floating in his happy submissive headspace, Castiel could dote on him as much as he wanted. He could shower the sub in praise, hold him as close as he wanted, and cuddle him to his heart’s content.
At least, usually.
“Cas, I think I’m gonna have to cut this a little short,” Dean said apologetically, sitting up from where he’d been curled languidly against Castiel’s chest. “Bobby called me into work tomorrow. I meant to tell you before we started, but, um… I kinda got carried away.”
Castiel blinked, something settling heavily in his gut. “You have to leave?”
“I’ve gotta get home so I can wake up early,” Dean said. He looked just as upset as Castiel felt. “I’m really sorry, Cas. Maybe I should’a called this whole thing off.”
Castiel saw the self-deprecating gleam in his green eyes and knew he had to head the spiral off before it started. He sat up, pushing his own feelings aside. “Dean, it’s perfectly alright,” he soothed. “I understand, life gets in the way. Will you at least…” Castiel glanced at the bedside table, where he’d set out all the things he’d wanted for aftercare that night. A granola bar, a couple squares of Dean’s favorite chocolate, some cream for his bruises, more cream in case they’d done any bondage, a bathbomb for if they’d had the energy to relax in Castiel’s deep-soaker tub, a water bottle… Castiel latched onto the last thing, desperately trying to satiate his own need to take care of his submissive. “Will you at least finish this water?”
Dean gave him a small smile. “Sure, Cas. Thanks for takin’ care of me.”
I haven’t, though, Castiel wanted to say. I haven’t taken care of you at all.
He’d yelled at Dean, triggered him with the threat of using a gag, and now he didn’t even have time to properly make it up to him. All of it felt very wrong, like Castiel’s view of everything had been tipped a little, so it was all off-kilter and sideways.
There was a bitter taste in Castiel’s mouth as he waved at Dean from the doorway, watching the other man drive off into the night in his beloved Impala. Castiel had made Dean swear up and down that he’d call if he started to feel like he was dropping, and it was only when Dean had jokingly asked if everything was alright that Castiel had relented.
He couldn’t help the sick sensation in his stomach. Something just seemed off.
Castiel tried to ignore the feeling as he got ready for bed. Dean always insisted on helping to clean up after their play, so there wasn’t much to do except get dressed and climb underneath the covers. Castiel stared up at the ceiling in the darkness of his bedroom, his king bed seeming much colder and larger than it had an hour or so ago when he’d been holding a soft, sated Dean in his arms.
It’s nothing, Castiel told himself. Everything is fine. This is normal. Dean has a right to his life. He has a right to call our time short if he needs to, just like he has a right to use his safeword and communicate his limits.
Of course, Castiel couldn’t help but feel like Dean hadn’t been the problem. He’d been the one to push Dean to need to use his safeword, and he was the one getting upset about their play time getting cut short. It was his fault he hadn’t seen Dean all week; it wasn’t fair for him to be hurt by the other man having other things to do that didn’t involve spending time with him.
Even with all that, Castiel still wished he’d been able to take care of Dean a little more before he’d gone.
He turned over in his bed, pushing restlessly at the sheets, and stared at the bedside table where he’d put the chocolate and supplies. That was probably the root of all of this; Castiel wouldn’t feel so guilty about hurting Dean if he’d been able to make up for it afterward. Dean had seemed fine, but Castiel couldn’t help but worry.
I’ll call him tomorrow, Castiel told himself, desperate to just get to sleep and put all this behind him. I’ll call just to make sure he’s okay, and then I’ll leave him alone.
That made him feel only slightly better. It was a long time before he actually managed to fall asleep.
~>>>~
Dean had just climbed back into his car after helping Bobby close down the garage when his phone rang. He picked it up, saw the caller ID, and answered without a second of hesitation.
“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted, a smile already on his face. “How are you?”
“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. Dean immediately frowned. Even from the other end, his Dom sounded… tired. “I was just… I was just calling to check in. You never messaged me to say you felt bad, so I figured you were feeling alright, but I… I wanted to check.”
“Yeah, I probably should’ve sent you a text,” Dean said, guilt worming through him. “Sorry, Cas. I was okay, don’t worry. How are you?” He barely refrained from adding that Castiel sounded tired. Maybe he was. It was nearly six in the evening, after all. Though it was a Saturday, Castiel owned a business with his brother, and being the owner meant working days that employees often didn’t. Maybe that was why he sounded worn down.
“I’m fine. I was just calling to check on you,” Castiel said. He sounded, somehow, even more run down than when he’d first responded. “I can let you go now, I’m sure you’re tired from work.”
“Hey, hey, Cas, hold on,” Dean said, leaning forward in his car. Something was off. He could feel it. “Do you wanna come over? Or do you want me to come over there? You sound a little… sad.”
There was a long pause. Dean held his breath, suddenly wondering if he’d overstepped or something. After a moment, though, Castiel exhaled. “Yes, I think it would be best if you came over. Is that alright?”
“Sure, Cas,” Dean said, the tension in his body draining to be replaced by soft concern. “I was the one who offered, right? I’ll be over in a couple minutes; I’m still at the garage.”
He was still covered in grease and wearing his work clothes, too, but that didn’t really matter to him right now. The only thing on his mind was the fact that Castiel—that his Dom—sounded upset. He needed to fix it. He needed to make sure Castiel was okay.
They said their goodbyes. As soon as he was off the phone, Dean hurried to turn his car on and get to Castiel’s house. He didn’t know what might have caused his Dom to sound so defeated, but he had a few ideas, and none of them were good. He pressed the gas pedal a little harder as he drove, knowing that every minute longer it took him to get to Castiel’s house was a minute longer that his Dom was by himself.
Dean was almost out of breath by the time he thumped up the front steps of Castiel’s neat little suburban house. He knocked on the door, trying not to sound too aggressive, and breathed an exhale of relief when he heard his Dom’s familiar footsteps coming down the hall to answer it.
When Castiel opened the door, Dean gave him his best calm-and-in-control smile. “Hey, Cas,” he greeted. “Good to see you.”
Castiel gave him a weak smile in response that was barely more than a twitch of his lips. “Hello, Dean. Please, come in.”
Dean stepped inside the house. It was dark, no lights on though it was six in the evening in the middle of winter. There was no smell of cooking food, which was bad, since Castiel was one of those crazy people that liked to eat at five in the afternoon. Dean turned to his Dom, that confident smile still on his face, and said, “Well, are you hungry? I was gonna cook something when I got home, but if you haven’t eaten yet, I can try it here.”
Dean forced down the insecure feelings of overstepping his boundaries, focusing on staying calm and in control. Castiel looked a little out of it, so Dean had to take the lead.
“That sounds nice,” Castiel murmured. He was looking at the floor.
“Alright. I’m gonna wash my hands, then,” Dean said. He glanced at them and winced as he remembered that he’d just come from work. “I’ve got engine grease all over ‘em. Don’t wanna dirty your pretty kitchen.”
Castiel blinked and jerked a little, as if a spark of life had suddenly been lit inside him. “Of course, I forgot that you’d just come from work. You can take a shower, if you’d like. I’m sorry, I didn’t even think, I shouldn’t have—”
“A shower sounds great,” Dean said, cutting his Dom off before he could spiral. “Do you wanna come in with me?”
He realized too late how that sounded. Dean hadn’t meant to insinuate anything sexual, and he definitely didn’t want to make it seem like he wanted to start a scene right now. Showers were a great way to mentally reset, and he’d just thought that Castiel could use one. But now he was realizing how he’d come off, and Dean wished he could take it back.
Thankfully, Castiel didn’t seem to catch on. “Okay,” he mumbled. “Why not?”
Dean followed as his Dom quietly led the way to the master bathroom. He wasn’t used to seeing Castiel so solemn and quiet. Usually, though he was laconic and fairly serious most of the time, there was always a sort of warmth and energy in his eyes and in the way he moved. It typically made Dean want to get down on his knees at the man’s feet. Now, though, all he wanted to do was wrap Castiel in a blanket.
Once they got to the shower, Dean took the lead again. He turned on the water and began to strip off his clothes. Castiel did the same, moving stiffly, reminding Dean a little of a robot. When the water was hot enough, he stepped in and made room under the spray for Castiel. Like the Dom’s deep-soaker tub, there was more than enough space for both of them. Dean was grateful for it now.
He reached for the shampoo, wondering how this was going to go now that they were both in the shower, but he was stopped by a warm hand on his forearm.
“Can I?” Castiel asked, looking at him with something tentative in his blue eyes.
“Sure, Cas,” Dean said, pulling back with a surprised look on his face. “Go ahead.”
Normally, he’d be protesting, some part of him screaming that he didn’t deserve soft bullshit like this, but it was different when he felt like he was doing it for Cas. He watched as his Dom squirted some shampoo into his hands and lathered it, then reached for Dean’s hair so he could massage it in himself.
Dean couldn’t withhold his moan at the sensation, the hot water from the shower streaming down the outline of his jaw as he tipped his head forward to give Castiel better access. His Dom released a soft chuckle that made Dean’s heart soar. He made more noises of appreciation as Castiel continued to massage his scalp, his fingers working expertly to send tingles of enjoyment down Dean’s spine.
“You’re so fuckin’ good at this,” Dean slurred, leaning languidly into one of Castiel’s hands as his fingers rubbed a particularly pleasurable spot above his right ear.
He could hear the smile in his Dom’s voice as he responded, “I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Dean merely groaned happily in response.
After Castiel had massaged his hair as much as humanly possible, he gently directed Dean under the water and rinsed it off. Castiel cupped his hands over Dean’s eyes to shield them from the soapy water, which just about turned Dean’s heart into a puddle in his chest.
When he’d finished with Dean’s hair, Castiel soaped up a washcloth and began to carefully, reverently clean every inch of Dean’s skin. Dean let him, knowing from the return of light in Castiel’s eyes that this was helping. Somehow, doting on him was helping. Even though it made Dean physically itch to allow himself to be taken care of so blatantly, he stayed completely still because he knew it was making his Dom feel better.
Castiel massaged the knots out of Dean’s neck and worked the tension from his tired hands. Dean’s insides joined his heart in a happy little puddle as his Dom carefully focused on gently and thoroughly cleaning each one of Dean’s fingers. He then began to massage the tired muscles of Dean’s shoulders and back, which probably made Dean moan the loudest. He normally wasn’t so vocal about his enjoyment of stuff, mostly because he’d been told many times that he was a noisy bitch in bed and he didn’t want to be annoying, but seeing Castiel’s little smirks of satisfaction kept him from holding back as much as he might have.
Castiel worked his way down Dean’s body, kneeling so he could clean his legs and feet. When he reached his groin area, he looked up at Dean through damp eyelashes, his blue eyes dark as he took in just how affected Dean had been by all the touches they’d been sharing. Dean just about fell over at how gorgeous his Dom looked staring up at him like that.
“Would my sweet boy allow me to make him feel good?” Castiel asked, his voice rough.
“Yes please, sir,” Dean breathed. “Th-Thank you, sir.”
Castiel gave him a small smile and stood, one of his soapy hands creating a loose circle around Dean’s cock. “Lean against me, sweetheart. Good boy,” he praised, one arm slipping around Dean’s back to pull him close. Dean moaned and bucked a little as Castiel began to slowly jerk him off, the friction slippery and delicious. This close, with the steam and the shower and the scent of Castiel’s soap, Dean felt like he was drowning in his Dom. It was the most amazing feeling in the world.
He leaned into Cas as much as the slippery tiles would allow, letting his Dom take his weight, letting Castiel take care of him. Castiel murmured words of praise as he brought Dean up and over the edge of orgasm, that warm light shining in his blue eyes as he watched Dean’s mouth fall open in ecstasy.
“God, Cas, that feels so good,” Dean breathed, his foggy brain fighting to bring together coherent words to let his Dom know how good he was making him feel. “Feels s’good.”
Castiel’s chuckle was warm and pleased. “Good boy. You’re my good boy, honeybee.” He released Dean’s spent cock and wrapped his other arm around the floppy submissive, cradling him against his chest.
“Thank you, sir,” Dean panted, leaning his forehead against Castiel’s wet shoulder. “You take… You take such good care of me, always make me feel so good. Thank you.”
Castiel’s arms tightened around him. His voice was rough when he said, “Of course, sweetheart.”
They stayed like that for a while, until the water began to cool slightly. After that, they climbed out and Dean allowed Castiel to carefully dry him off. He hid his laugh at the concentrated frown on his Dom’s face as he carefully made sure Dean was completely dry and comfortable. Castiel was damn adorable sometimes.
Dean hadn’t brought anything with him to the house except his car keys, his wallet, his work ID, and his dirty mechanic uniform. The only clean clothes for him to change into were Castiel’s, which Dean was pretty sure was a win for both of them. He got to smell like Cas, and his Dom got to smugly dress him in soft sweatpants and a shirt and hoodie that were a little too big around the chest and shoulders area, making them hang off Dean’s lean frame just slightly. Dean was pretty sure that if it was possible to have a possessive kink when it came to dressing someone, Castiel had it.
“Eating time,” Dean insisted, grabbing his Dom’s hand before he could eye the bed with too much interest. Though Dean would love nothing more than to get all sweaty and dirty with Castiel again, his stomach was grumbling and he knew his Dom probably hadn’t eaten much today. Once they had some food in their stomachs, they were probably going to have to talk about this, too.
Food first, Dean reminded himself. Talking and feelings and shit later.
Castiel followed Dean into the kitchen, where Dean put him to work doing easy things to help with dinner, like heating the water for the pasta and chopping the herbs. He worked on making the garlic-cheese sauce, talking all the while about his latest conversation with Sam. His little brother had just finished finals week for the first semester of his second year at Stanford, and it was the first time Dean had talked to him in about a month.
Castiel didn’t really talk much, seemingly content to listen. He asked a couple questions every now and then, asking after Jess, Sam’s girlfriend. There was a little smile quirking his lips now, which was a huge upgrade from the sad frown that had been on his face when Dean had first arrived. With the lights in the kitchen on and the smell of cooking food filling the house, everything felt a little warmer and a little brighter.
They sat down to eat, and Dean listened as Castiel detailed the latest disaster his brother had managed to get himself into. To Dean’s knowledge, Gabriel was a wild man who was determined to act like Zeus himself when it came to sleeping with other people. Apparently, his most recent entanglement had been with the wife of a current client.
“And then when the man came home, Gabriel had the gall to ask if he wanted to join,” Castiel said, taking a bite of pasta and shaking his head in disappointment.
Dean laughed. “That’s amazing. Your brother is from a whole different species.”
“I agree,” Castiel muttered.
They talked easily throughout dinner. After they finished, Dean got up and cleaned the plates, easing himself out of the last lingering subservient headspace in his mind by focusing on being precise and efficient with the dishes instead. By the time he’d finished, his head was clear and he was prepared for the conversation he knew they had to have.
When Dean had finished the dishes and Castiel had cleaned the kitchen, Dean followed his Dom into the living room. Castiel sat down on the couch and gestured for Dean to sit on his lap. Dean went happily, sitting himself sideways with his legs over Castiel’s left thigh so he could lean against his Dom’s chest and tuck his head under Castiel’s jaw.
After a brief silence when they’d finished settling in, Dean asked, “Why didn’t you call me earlier?”
Castiel exhaled, long and heavy. “I didn’t really notice until late afternoon. And then I didn’t want to call you, because I knew you’d be busy with work.”
“You were dropping, Cas. You should have called me the second you figured it out,” Dean said, poking his Dom gently in the chest as a reprimand. “If I was the one dropping, you’d want me to call you right away, right?”
“Of course,” Castiel said firmly. “I’m sorry, Dean. You’re right.”
Dean nuzzled at the exposed skin of Castiel’s collarbone as a sign of forgiveness. “What got you feelin’ so bad in the first place?” he asked. “Was it… Was it something I did?”
“No, sweetheart. It wasn’t your fault. It was just the circumstances of last night, I think,” Castiel said, squeezing him a little. He hesitated, gathering his thoughts. Dean focused on the wood-sweet scent of his skin, waiting patiently for his Dom to figure out what he wanted to say. “I suppose I felt guilty about scaring you badly enough to make you safeword.”
“Cas, that wasn’t—” Dean started.
“I know, but I couldn’t help it,” Castiel said. “I felt like I’d violated your trust. I value your trust and your sense of safety with me so very highly, Dean. It would kill me to see that be diminished, especially if it was because of something I did. And after that, I didn’t get the chance to take care of you like I wanted. It… It didn’t feel good.”
Dean swallowed back the guilt that rose up as he realized that he had been the cause of his Dom’s pain, even if without meaning to be. “I’m sorry, Cas.”
“Dean, you’re allowed to have a life. If you need to leave early for work or something, I won’t hold you back,” Castiel said.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t fair for me to pull that shit last night,” Dean insisted. “I’m sorry. I was just… I dunno. I was caught up in not being able to see you for so long that I just… got impatient, I guess. I didn’t think. I won’t do it again, I promise. At least, not on nights where we’ve got a scene planned.”
He knew it was the right thing to say when he felt Castiel exhale, some of his muscles loosening. “Okay,” his Dom agreed. “I still want you to know that it’s okay for you to need to reschedule a scene or something. I just… I can’t ignore the fact that I greatly enjoy taking care of you. I need to take care of you. I need to know you’re okay. It may seem strange, but I just… I just need it.”
“Okay,” Dean said. His voice was soft, something in him shaken by how much conviction there was in Castiel’s voice. Did he really care that much about taking care of Dean? It seemed impossible that anyone would view Dean’s safety and comfort as being that important, let alone for that person to be Cas.
“You’re important to me,” Castiel said. His voice was slightly rough around the edges; he kissed Dean’s hair and stayed there for a moment, gathering himself. “You’re important to me, and that’s why I wanted to talk about something else, while we’re here.”
“Yeah?” Dean asked, pushing away the discomfort that arose at being told he was so important. It was fine. It was fine.
Castiel sighed, evidently bracing himself. “Dean, I… I know your past experiences with Dominants have not always been good. I’ve seen you communicate that when it comes to things like our contract and your preferences, and for that, I’m incredibly proud of you. But I… I want to be sure that I’m not hurting you unintentionally. That I’m not scaring you, or making you feel unsafe. It would kill me to be one of those Doms that hurt you, Dean.” Castiel’s voice got even rougher than before, thick with tears. “I wouldn’t survive that.”
Dean swallowed back the tightness in his own throat, fighting the burning in his eyes with everything that he had. “You aren’t, Cas,” he rasped, not caring about how choked his words were. He needed Cas to hear this. He needed his Dom to know. “I swear to God, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me. You’re not like them.”
Castiel heaved a shaky exhale, his arms tightening around Dean. He pressed another kiss to the top of his head, stopping to murmur quietly into his hair, “I wish I could strangle the Doms that hurt you, sweetheart. You never deserved that.”
Dean closed his eyes, turning so he could hide his face in Castiel’s chest. This was somehow harder than talking about how he’d screwed up earlier and contributed to Castiel’s drop. At least then, he’d been able to call himself a fuck-up. Here, he was being faced with the raw possibility that he wasn’t the one at fault for once. It was unreasonably frightening.
“I wanna work through it,” he choked out, fighting past the vice grip his emotions had on his voice. “I wanna… I wanna make it better. With you. If you… If you want that.”
Castiel squeezed him. “Oh, sweetheart, of course I do. I just don’t want to push you. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was trying to force anything—”
“You aren’t,” Dean said firmly.
He hesitated, fighting the voices in his head that told him to shut up, to keep this all to himself where it didn’t have to bother anyone. He remembered what Sammy had said some years ago, when Dean had tentatively introduced the idea of both of them getting therapy to work through some of their experiences with their father.
You deserve to be heard too, Dean.
“You aren’t forcing anything, Cas. I… I feel like this… whatever this is, I feel like it’s kinda like a road. And my baggage is like all these stupid speed bumps. And I wanna get rid of ‘em so we can drive fast and be happy, Cas. ‘Cause I think we can.” Dean swallowed heavily, staring at the pale gray paint of Castiel’s wall at the far end of the living room. “I think we can.”
“Me too, sweetheart,” Castiel whispered. His breath tickled the strands of hair on top of Dean’s head.
“Okay,” Dean said quietly. “So can we, um… Can we work on it in the future? Slowly?”
“Of course, honeybee. As slowly as you want,” Castiel assured him. “I’m honored you consider me someone you’d want to work on this with.”
Dean tipped his head back and looked up at his Dom, at the man who had literally made himself feel better by taking care of Dean. The man who looked at him like he was something precious, the man who made Dean feel safer than he thought he’d ever felt in his entire twenty-five years of living on earth. How the hell did I get so lucky? Dean wondered. How the hell did I manage to run into someone like Cas? Must’a been a miracle. He’s like a Goddamn angel from heaven.
“I think we’re gonna be okay,” Dean said, resting his head back on Castiel’s chest. He closed his eyes and settled into his Dom’s warm embrace, the last of the tension from the day easing from his body.
His Dom squeezed him tightly and rested his temple against the top of Dean’s head.
“Me too, honeybee,” he said quietly. “Me too.”