Get a Room
Dec. 21st, 2014 08:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mayalaenTitle: Get a Room
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, sorta Sam
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Word Count: 2000
Alternate Links: AO3 || DW || SPNKink-Meme Prompt
Full List of Kinks and/or Warnings:Curse, humiliation, rough sex, voyeurism (non-sexual), manhandling, anal sex/fucking, humor, awkwardness.
Setting: No specific timeline. The readers can decide for themselves.
Summary: Fill for an Anonymous Prompt. Castiel's roughly fucking Dean from behind while Dean's attempting to have a conversation with someone right there. Loadsa humiliation on Dean's part - he's definitely not consented to being fucked in front of whoever.
-
“No!” Dean yelps into the phone. “Do not come in here!”
“Dean,” Sam says, voice urgent, “I need to see the markings and you can't hold the phone still long enough to get a decent picture.”
Dean can already hear Sam unlocking the motel room door. “Damn it! Sam, get out!”
Sam rolls his eyes as he walks up to the table Dean's currently being fucked over. If anything, Cas fucks him harder, knocking Dean's duffel bag off the table and onto the floor with the force of his thrusts.
Dean's hobbled by the jeans and underwear around his ankles, his boots still on, but his shirt is somewhere on the other side of the room. Cas has a hand on the back of his neck, holding him down with his chest against the top of the table. Cas is still fully clothed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean growls, trying to get a good look at Sam, twisting in Cas' grip, but not really going anywhere.
“I'm taking a video,” Sam says calmly.
“Turn that off!” Dean yells, his nails digging into the top of the table.
“I can't get a good picture of the symbols on Cas,” Sam says. “He's moving too much and I need a good shot of them so Bobby can help figure this out.”
Dean reaches back with his left hand, trying to grab at the phone in Sam's hand. “Gimme that! Stop fucking recording this, you asshole! If you send this to Bobby, I'm going to fucking kill you!”
Sam chuckles. “Knock it off. Bobby knows you two fuck like bunnies most of the time, and if we don't figure out what this is, Cas might just fuck you to death.”
“Sam,” Dean whimpers. “Please, just stop it for a minute! Please!” he pleads desperately, then lets out a low moan as he comes all over the carpet beneath the table.
“Huh,” Sam says. “I'm impressed. Not a lot of guys can come without being touched.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut and covers his head with his hands as Cas comes inside him. “Finally,” Dean mumbles, but Cas doesn't stop fucking him. Dean sighs. “Sam? You can fix this, right?”
Sam sits down on the bed, opening up his laptop. “I hope so. Are you getting sore yet?”
Dean snorts. “A little. He used a good amount of lube, but he'd already been going for about ten minutes when you came in.”
“Has he said anything at all?” Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head. “No. He just touched that stupid box over there,” he says as he nods toward the plain little box sitting on the floor between the table and the dresser, “and made a funny noise, then he jumped me. I'm just glad he carries lube around in his pocket.”
“When he touched it, did anything happen to the box?” Sam asks. “Any strange lights, smells, or something like that?”
“I, oh fuck,” Dean growls as Cas quickly pulls out and manhandles Dean, turning him around and pushing him back onto the table, grabbing his legs and shoving his cock back into Dean's hole. “So, uhm, his eyes look funny,” Dean comments blandly.
“They do?” Sam asks, getting up from the bed. He walks up to them and leans over, trying to get a good look at Cas' eyes. Sure enough, his pupils are dilated and there is a small ring of red around them, right next to the little sliver of blue still left of his irides.
“I could've described them to you!” Dean snaps at Sam. “Get over on your side of the room, since you insist on being in here while Cas fucks me. Pervert.”
Sam chuckles as he walks back over to the bed. Just as Sam gets back to researching, Cas starts growling and whining, so Sam looks up from his laptop. Cas is yanking at Dean's legs, trying to spread them wider, but he can't because of Dean's clothes.
“Cas, dude, calm down,” Dean soothes, trying to sit up.
Cas growls again, an aggressive sound that Sam has heard when animals are ready to attack and he's up off the bed and heading for Cas before Cas gets any more angry. He doesn't think Cas would hurt Dean, but he doesn't want to take the chance.
“Hang on, Cas,” Sam says softly, grabbing Dean's right foot and getting the boot off.
Cas snarls at Sam even as he continues fucking Dean, but he doesn't try to stop Sam. Dean's eyes are wide, but he doesn't try to move, not with the possessive hand Cas has on Dean's chest holding him down. Sam moves around to the other side of Cas and takes off the other boot, then pulls the rest of Dean's clothes off.
As soon as Sam tosses the last sock into the corner of the room, Cas grabs Dean's legs and pushes his knees to his chest, nearly bending Dean in half.
“Oh, fuck, Sam,” Dean grunts, wincing, “you gotta stop him. I thought it was going to be the kind of curse where he had to come and then he'd be fine or something, but he hasn't come again and he's going even harder than when he started.”
“Okay,” Sam says with a nod, then throws himself back down onto the bed, grabbing his laptop, “I'm working on it. So's Bobby.”
“Okay,” Dean says, “just hurry. This is getting uncomfortable.”
“Sorry, man,” Sam says. “I'm going as fast as I can.”
Sam frowns as he skims site after site. Nothing has the combination he's looking for. There are plenty of sex curses, but there's nothing about someone having red-rimmed irides along with a sex curse. Though there is something about a tail growing sometime in the middle of one of the sex curses. He really hadn't wanted to know that prehensile tails would fill another available hole while the cursed person was fucking someone.
The phone starts ringing just as Cas grunts and Dean hisses. Sam figures he probably shouldn't know what Cas sounds like coming inside his brother, but maybe he can worry about brain bleach another time.
“Got something, Bobby?” Sam asks.
“Hey!” Dean yelps.
Sam looks up in time to see Cas carrying Dean across the room, cock still buried inside Dean, then he blinks stupidly at the two of them as Cas climbs up onto the bed and starts roughly fucking Dean on the bed Sam's currently sitting on. Sam stands up, setting his laptop on the table Dean had recently been fucked on.
“Burn the box,” Bobby says.
Sam startles, having forgotten he was supposed to be talking to Bobby. “Huh?” he says.
“Burn the box,” Bobby repeats, a little annoyed with having to repeat himself.
“That's it?” Sam asks.
“Dude!” Dean yells. “Do whatever the fuck he's telling you to do! My asshole fuckin' hurts!”
Bobby snorts. “It's not a very dangerous curse, just painful, so if you wanna string this along a bit, I wouldn't blame ya.”
Sam considers it longer than he probably should, but decides that his brother really does look like he's in pain, so he shakes his head even though Bobby can't see him. “No, I'm not that much of a jerk. All I gotta do is burn it?”
“That's it,” Bobby says.
“Cas!” Dean yelps. “No, fuck, I-oh! Ow!”
Sam can't help himself. He looks. Cas has his hand wrapped around Dean's dick and he's stroking him roughly. Dean is pushing at Cas' hand, trying to get him to stop, but it's not working.
“Too hard!” Dean yells, pulling on Cas' wrist.
Sam pulls a book of matches from his jeans pocket and grabs a match, lights it, then crouches down by the little box and holds the match to it.
“Hurry up, Sam!” Dean yells.
The box catches fire quickly, but instead of burning, it explodes into a puff of sparkly dust, surprising Sam. He falls backward onto his ass, watching as the little sparkles float away.
“Oof!” Dean grunts. “Sam! A little help, please?”
Sam stands up, then starts chuckling. Dean's squirming beneath an unconscious Cas, pushing at Cas' shoulders, but unable to move him. Sam shakes his head as he walks over to the bed, noticing that the symbols on Cas' body are gone.
“I've seen things I can't unsee,” Sam teases.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles, “get him off me, then you can go get your own room and cry on your little princess pillow while I ice my asshole.”
Sam stops midway to reaching out, his hands hovering over Cas. “It's probably not a good idea to insult me right now.”
Dean huffs. “Fine. You're an awesome little brother. Now roll the angel off me. My asshole is throbbing.”
“Put some triple antibiotic on that,” Bobby rumbles in his ear.
Sam grins as he rolls Cas off Dean. Dean hisses as he straightens his legs out. “Okay, Bobby, thanks,” Sam says.
“You're welcome, kid,” Bobby says. “But don't ever send me a video of your brother getting fucked again.”
Sam laughs. “Okay, Bobby,” he says, then puts the phone in his pocket. He walks over to his duffel bag and pulls out a tube of triple antibiotic. He squirts some onto his fingers, then heads over to the bed again.
“What the fuck?!” Dean yelps as Sam climbs onto the bed and grabs Dean's left knee, pulling his legs apart. “Dude!” Dean barks as Sam spreads the ointment over Dean's hole, his fingers sliding inside a little.
By the time he's satisfied with the amount of antibiotic ointment he's used on Dean, he sits back on his heels and looks down at Dean. Dean's eyes are wide and his jaw is dropped. Sam tries not to laugh. They've patched each other up plenty of times and had their hands and fingers inside places most brothers never would, so really Dean shouldn't be all that shocked.
“You'll thank me later,” Sam says, then gets off the bed and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.
“Yeah, that's a conversation that isn't ever happening,” Dean grumbles. “Thanks for shoving your fingers up my recently-fucked ass, little brother!”
Sam chuckles as he dries his hands, then grabs his duffel bag and walks toward the door. “I'm getting another room. Call me if you need anything else.”
“Sam,” Dean says just as Sam's about to close the door.
“Yeah?” Sam asks, hesitating.
“Thanks,” Dean says.
Sam smiles. “You're welcome,” he says, then closes the door behind him.
He knows Dean doesn't notice the erection tenting his jeans, but the motel manager does. It turns out the manager is a size queen, so Sam doesn't spend the night alone in his own motel room after all.
The End
Pairing: Dean/Castiel, sorta Sam
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Word Count: 2000
Alternate Links: AO3 || DW || SPNKink-Meme Prompt
Full List of Kinks and/or Warnings:
Setting: No specific timeline. The readers can decide for themselves.
Summary: Fill for an Anonymous Prompt. Castiel's roughly fucking Dean from behind while Dean's attempting to have a conversation with someone right there. Loadsa humiliation on Dean's part - he's definitely not consented to being fucked in front of whoever.
-
“No!” Dean yelps into the phone. “Do not come in here!”
“Dean,” Sam says, voice urgent, “I need to see the markings and you can't hold the phone still long enough to get a decent picture.”
Dean can already hear Sam unlocking the motel room door. “Damn it! Sam, get out!”
Sam rolls his eyes as he walks up to the table Dean's currently being fucked over. If anything, Cas fucks him harder, knocking Dean's duffel bag off the table and onto the floor with the force of his thrusts.
Dean's hobbled by the jeans and underwear around his ankles, his boots still on, but his shirt is somewhere on the other side of the room. Cas has a hand on the back of his neck, holding him down with his chest against the top of the table. Cas is still fully clothed.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Dean growls, trying to get a good look at Sam, twisting in Cas' grip, but not really going anywhere.
“I'm taking a video,” Sam says calmly.
“Turn that off!” Dean yells, his nails digging into the top of the table.
“I can't get a good picture of the symbols on Cas,” Sam says. “He's moving too much and I need a good shot of them so Bobby can help figure this out.”
Dean reaches back with his left hand, trying to grab at the phone in Sam's hand. “Gimme that! Stop fucking recording this, you asshole! If you send this to Bobby, I'm going to fucking kill you!”
Sam chuckles. “Knock it off. Bobby knows you two fuck like bunnies most of the time, and if we don't figure out what this is, Cas might just fuck you to death.”
“Sam,” Dean whimpers. “Please, just stop it for a minute! Please!” he pleads desperately, then lets out a low moan as he comes all over the carpet beneath the table.
“Huh,” Sam says. “I'm impressed. Not a lot of guys can come without being touched.”
Dean squeezes his eyes shut and covers his head with his hands as Cas comes inside him. “Finally,” Dean mumbles, but Cas doesn't stop fucking him. Dean sighs. “Sam? You can fix this, right?”
Sam sits down on the bed, opening up his laptop. “I hope so. Are you getting sore yet?”
Dean snorts. “A little. He used a good amount of lube, but he'd already been going for about ten minutes when you came in.”
“Has he said anything at all?” Sam asks.
Dean shakes his head. “No. He just touched that stupid box over there,” he says as he nods toward the plain little box sitting on the floor between the table and the dresser, “and made a funny noise, then he jumped me. I'm just glad he carries lube around in his pocket.”
“When he touched it, did anything happen to the box?” Sam asks. “Any strange lights, smells, or something like that?”
“I, oh fuck,” Dean growls as Cas quickly pulls out and manhandles Dean, turning him around and pushing him back onto the table, grabbing his legs and shoving his cock back into Dean's hole. “So, uhm, his eyes look funny,” Dean comments blandly.
“They do?” Sam asks, getting up from the bed. He walks up to them and leans over, trying to get a good look at Cas' eyes. Sure enough, his pupils are dilated and there is a small ring of red around them, right next to the little sliver of blue still left of his irides.
“I could've described them to you!” Dean snaps at Sam. “Get over on your side of the room, since you insist on being in here while Cas fucks me. Pervert.”
Sam chuckles as he walks back over to the bed. Just as Sam gets back to researching, Cas starts growling and whining, so Sam looks up from his laptop. Cas is yanking at Dean's legs, trying to spread them wider, but he can't because of Dean's clothes.
“Cas, dude, calm down,” Dean soothes, trying to sit up.
Cas growls again, an aggressive sound that Sam has heard when animals are ready to attack and he's up off the bed and heading for Cas before Cas gets any more angry. He doesn't think Cas would hurt Dean, but he doesn't want to take the chance.
“Hang on, Cas,” Sam says softly, grabbing Dean's right foot and getting the boot off.
Cas snarls at Sam even as he continues fucking Dean, but he doesn't try to stop Sam. Dean's eyes are wide, but he doesn't try to move, not with the possessive hand Cas has on Dean's chest holding him down. Sam moves around to the other side of Cas and takes off the other boot, then pulls the rest of Dean's clothes off.
As soon as Sam tosses the last sock into the corner of the room, Cas grabs Dean's legs and pushes his knees to his chest, nearly bending Dean in half.
“Oh, fuck, Sam,” Dean grunts, wincing, “you gotta stop him. I thought it was going to be the kind of curse where he had to come and then he'd be fine or something, but he hasn't come again and he's going even harder than when he started.”
“Okay,” Sam says with a nod, then throws himself back down onto the bed, grabbing his laptop, “I'm working on it. So's Bobby.”
“Okay,” Dean says, “just hurry. This is getting uncomfortable.”
“Sorry, man,” Sam says. “I'm going as fast as I can.”
Sam frowns as he skims site after site. Nothing has the combination he's looking for. There are plenty of sex curses, but there's nothing about someone having red-rimmed irides along with a sex curse. Though there is something about a tail growing sometime in the middle of one of the sex curses. He really hadn't wanted to know that prehensile tails would fill another available hole while the cursed person was fucking someone.
The phone starts ringing just as Cas grunts and Dean hisses. Sam figures he probably shouldn't know what Cas sounds like coming inside his brother, but maybe he can worry about brain bleach another time.
“Got something, Bobby?” Sam asks.
“Hey!” Dean yelps.
Sam looks up in time to see Cas carrying Dean across the room, cock still buried inside Dean, then he blinks stupidly at the two of them as Cas climbs up onto the bed and starts roughly fucking Dean on the bed Sam's currently sitting on. Sam stands up, setting his laptop on the table Dean had recently been fucked on.
“Burn the box,” Bobby says.
Sam startles, having forgotten he was supposed to be talking to Bobby. “Huh?” he says.
“Burn the box,” Bobby repeats, a little annoyed with having to repeat himself.
“That's it?” Sam asks.
“Dude!” Dean yells. “Do whatever the fuck he's telling you to do! My asshole fuckin' hurts!”
Bobby snorts. “It's not a very dangerous curse, just painful, so if you wanna string this along a bit, I wouldn't blame ya.”
Sam considers it longer than he probably should, but decides that his brother really does look like he's in pain, so he shakes his head even though Bobby can't see him. “No, I'm not that much of a jerk. All I gotta do is burn it?”
“That's it,” Bobby says.
“Cas!” Dean yelps. “No, fuck, I-oh! Ow!”
Sam can't help himself. He looks. Cas has his hand wrapped around Dean's dick and he's stroking him roughly. Dean is pushing at Cas' hand, trying to get him to stop, but it's not working.
“Too hard!” Dean yells, pulling on Cas' wrist.
Sam pulls a book of matches from his jeans pocket and grabs a match, lights it, then crouches down by the little box and holds the match to it.
“Hurry up, Sam!” Dean yells.
The box catches fire quickly, but instead of burning, it explodes into a puff of sparkly dust, surprising Sam. He falls backward onto his ass, watching as the little sparkles float away.
“Oof!” Dean grunts. “Sam! A little help, please?”
Sam stands up, then starts chuckling. Dean's squirming beneath an unconscious Cas, pushing at Cas' shoulders, but unable to move him. Sam shakes his head as he walks over to the bed, noticing that the symbols on Cas' body are gone.
“I've seen things I can't unsee,” Sam teases.
“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbles, “get him off me, then you can go get your own room and cry on your little princess pillow while I ice my asshole.”
Sam stops midway to reaching out, his hands hovering over Cas. “It's probably not a good idea to insult me right now.”
Dean huffs. “Fine. You're an awesome little brother. Now roll the angel off me. My asshole is throbbing.”
“Put some triple antibiotic on that,” Bobby rumbles in his ear.
Sam grins as he rolls Cas off Dean. Dean hisses as he straightens his legs out. “Okay, Bobby, thanks,” Sam says.
“You're welcome, kid,” Bobby says. “But don't ever send me a video of your brother getting fucked again.”
Sam laughs. “Okay, Bobby,” he says, then puts the phone in his pocket. He walks over to his duffel bag and pulls out a tube of triple antibiotic. He squirts some onto his fingers, then heads over to the bed again.
“What the fuck?!” Dean yelps as Sam climbs onto the bed and grabs Dean's left knee, pulling his legs apart. “Dude!” Dean barks as Sam spreads the ointment over Dean's hole, his fingers sliding inside a little.
By the time he's satisfied with the amount of antibiotic ointment he's used on Dean, he sits back on his heels and looks down at Dean. Dean's eyes are wide and his jaw is dropped. Sam tries not to laugh. They've patched each other up plenty of times and had their hands and fingers inside places most brothers never would, so really Dean shouldn't be all that shocked.
“You'll thank me later,” Sam says, then gets off the bed and heads to the bathroom to wash his hands.
“Yeah, that's a conversation that isn't ever happening,” Dean grumbles. “Thanks for shoving your fingers up my recently-fucked ass, little brother!”
Sam chuckles as he dries his hands, then grabs his duffel bag and walks toward the door. “I'm getting another room. Call me if you need anything else.”
“Sam,” Dean says just as Sam's about to close the door.
“Yeah?” Sam asks, hesitating.
“Thanks,” Dean says.
Sam smiles. “You're welcome,” he says, then closes the door behind him.
He knows Dean doesn't notice the erection tenting his jeans, but the motel manager does. It turns out the manager is a size queen, so Sam doesn't spend the night alone in his own motel room after all.
The End
