Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/348820.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Supernatural
  Relationship:
      Castiel/Dean_Winchester
  Additional Tags:
      whore!Dean, Preseries, Underage_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-02-29 Words: 2934
****** Steps on the Road to Perdition ******
by darkforetold
Summary
     Castiel finds temptation in a Time where Dean Winchester is supposed
     to die.
Time hadn’t been created by his Father to be a linear thing, to flow
evenly and logically between points. Humans believed that Time was the
nonspatial continuum of events that occurred in an irreversible succession from
the past, to the future. Instead, Time and its spaces of actuality co-existed
with one another, weaving in and out like rivers and oceans.
And in this space, in this Time, Dean Winchester was going to die.
Dean, no more than fifteen years of existence, walked ahead of him along the
dark, quiet street. Castiel looked him over and noticed how… different
he was than the Dean he knew. The boy didn’t possess that cock-sure
swagger, the straight and determined posture that had often exemplified that
familiar give-‘em-hell attitude. Here, in this Time, Dean’s
younger reflection walked with his hands stuffed in his pockets, gaze fixed to
the ground. It was the unsure stature of a soldier’s boy; a youth too
innocent and naive to know his place in the world. Castiel was proud to know
that young Dean would grow out of his awkwardness, yet he’d never lose
that heavy stone on his shoulders. A stone that was made up of countless
worries and regrets.
The symbolism wasn’t lost on Castiel as young Dean kicked a small stone
across the street. Even now there was a certain determination set in the line
of his small shoulders, a sense of mission that Castiel regretted. Always the
selfless one, Dean hoped to provide for his brother in the only way he knew
how. Hustling pool and cheating weren’t enough to put food on the table
any more. With his father out hunting, there was only one way to give Sam what
he needed to survive.
Dean would never see the sadness in Castiel’s eyes, would never see the
angel staring at him like this. Castiel was nothing more than a long shadow at
his back, a slight trick of the wind against his hair. The gentle,
unexplainable pull on his shoulder that desperately tried to keep him away from
the danger ahead.
The young boy tossed a wary gaze over his shoulder, peering into the blackness.
He wouldn’t see the heartbreak on Castiel’s face, wouldn’t
hear the words—
“You deserve to be saved.”
—before he turned around and headed in that same direction. Dean walked
toward the bar, loud noises thumping and neon lights blinding and offensive.
Humans gathered here, drank copious amounts of alcohol and spilled into the
night, high on laughter and misdemeanor. Castiel didn’t owe any love to
these beings, had only spared them because Dean Winchester had taught him to
appreciate the brevity of their wasteful lives. The angel glanced at them now,
almost pityingly, and then disregarded them with the tightening of his jaw. He
hadn’t seen what Dean saw in them once. Castiel had only seen pain,
hate, judgment, nothing to save at all. But it was Dean Winchester who had
changed all that. Through the window of a heart too big, Castiel had changed
because of Dean.
Castiel watched the young boy slip around the corner and take his place by the
mouth of the alleyway. As planned, the angel took up protective watch a few
feet from him and waited. Over the course of an hour, Castiel had watched Dean
strike up conversations with several men. The young boy had used his wit and
undeniable charm to lure them into a sense of ease, offering his services only
after they had felt comfortable. It was a skillful approach, one that Castiel
found rather impressive. Convincing. Tempting.
Castiel frowned away the impure thoughts in his head, silently admonishing
himself for his iniquity; something that suddenly felt thick and filthy on his
skin. He didn’t need to list the reasons why this was wrong, why
thinking this way was inappropriate. Yet somehow, for whatever reason, his body
needed convincing, having responded in a way that was adverse. Sinful.
Stay keen on your mission, Castiel. Concentrate on something else.
Anything. His selflessness. The goodness of his heart…
Castiel zeroed in on the brightness of Dean’s soul. Even in the darkness
of the alleyway, even though Dean’s intents weren’t pure, his
soul was the most brilliant Castiel had ever seen. His soul often flared like a
thousand suns whenever Dean thought of his brother and it was during those
times that Castiel had found himself needing to look away. Here, in the
blackness of humanity, Dean’s soul was a light that reminded Castiel of
Heaven. A light that filled the emptiness of his heart when he thought of home,
a thing of beauty that cured his loneliness. Something that was so precious, so
delicate and giving, that it shouldn’t have been created to endure such
hardships. Hardships, Castiel knew, that were threaded deep into his fate.
It wasn’t long before Dean found his first customer. Castiel knew
immediately that this man didn’t pose a threat to Dean’s well-
being. Although his soul was tainted, much darker than Dean’s, the man
wasn’t evil. Simply a normal, decent human being with a wife and child,
bored in his daily routine and looking for the thrill of something new. With
his eager mouth and desire to please, Dean was going to be his something new.
Castiel’s Grace wept.
Castiel turned away from the proceedings, but could hear the sounds. The spine-
chilling smack of wet lips and deep, appreciative groans. He didn’t need
to be human in order to feel nauseated, to know that this was so very wrong.
Castiel knew it wasn’t his mission to rip apart the man for touching his
charge, yet he couldn’t shelve the anger he felt boiling inside him.
Anger because that man wasn’t touching Dean with utmost care, handling
him like he would precious, expensive china. Instead, when Castiel dared to
steal a glance, the animal was rough with him, treated him as if he were
nothing but a worthless street urchin. If he only knew of the boy’s
importance…
Castiel gripped his fists tight and remained invisible, doing nothing when the
man found his orgasm and paid Dean. The shuffle of feet left both boy and angel
alone in the alley.
“Cheap ass,” Dean mumbled.
Castiel watched as Dean counted his earnings, stuffing the bills in his pockets
with a huff. In his idle moment, Dean fingered the small medallion around his
neck and his soul brightened tenfold. The simple beauty, the ingrained purity
of that light made Castiel look away. It was only until he felt a darkness
prickling his skin that he dared look back.
Around the corner, staring at Dean, was a man with a dark soul. He leered at
the young boy, sizing him up from head to toe. This thing wasn’t here to
partake in otherwise harmless acts of carnal pleasure. His sole intent and
purpose was to slaughter Dean and leave the pieces behind. In other spaces of
Time, his success had left Sam without a brother, had led the younger
Winchester to commit suicide in the fourteenth year of his existence. Here, in
this actuality, Castiel couldn’t let that happen.
“Uh—hey, man,” Dean greeted cautiously. “You
looking for some company?”
Even at this age, Dean’s instincts were honed appropriately. The young
boy backed away slowly when the dark-souled man took a step forward.
“Hey. I don’t want any trouble,” Dean whispered softly.
The man wasn’t quick enough. With a blur of movement, Castiel was there,
behind him, grabbing the assailant’s wrist before he could strike at
Dean with the concealed knife. The angel twisted the man’s arm and
slammed him face-first into the wall, breathing harsh words into his ear.
“If you ever harm another living soul, I will find you. Hell hath no
fury like a soldier of God.”
Castiel let him go. Stumbling, the man gripped his bloodied nose, running out
of the alleyway and into the street. Dean’s shuffling caught his
attention and Castiel turned to look into those beautiful, green eyes. Even
now, at such a young age, those eyes carried wisdom far beyond his years.
Wisdom and responsibility. Guilt. Indescribable heartbreak.
“Thanks for uh—saving my life, I guess,” Dean said while
looking him over. He arched a brow. “You some sort of religious nut or
something?”
Castiel almost couldn’t stop himself from staring at him. He licked his
lips, his voice hoarse. “No.”
“Tax accountant?”
“No.”
Dean studied him a while longer. With no conclusion, the young boy shrugged his
shoulders. “I guess I should pay you back for what you did to that guy.
He looked like he was gonna stick me good.”
“That’s not necessary—” Dean.
“Come on. It’s the least I can do. Just let me suck you
off.”
Dean took a step forward. As if Dean were a disease, Castiel nearly jumped back
and put a hand out in defense. “No.”
“Look, dude, I don’t know what you’re problem is, but your
mouth is saying one thing while your dick is telling me something else.”
Castiel followed Dean’s gaze down to his pants, noting the hard outline
between his legs. He felt the heat rise in his face, Dean’s green eyes
burrowing into his bones. Castiel was ashamed of himself, guilty with sin. But
Dean didn’t seem to mind. Quite the opposite. Dean seemed to appear
encouraged.
“It’s okay. Let me just—”
Without hesitation, Dean got on his knees. Castiel didn’t even have a
chance to back away before Dean grabbed his hips and pulled him closer.
Everything in Castiel’s conscience, his central sense of right and
wrong, told him to fight this temptation, to leave Dean behind and label his
mission a success. But his heart, the powerhouse of his love for Dean, begged
him to give in, to revel in his touch, and delight in his devotion. He was lost
in his choice between sin and purity when Dean mouthed his hard length through
his pants. With the loss of cognitive thinking, Castiel couldn’t find it
in himself to stop him. The warmth of his mouth, the pressure—
“Please… stop this.”
Castiel didn’t intend for his words to come out so breathlessly. Instead
of stopping, Dean mouthed his cock harder, kissing, nuzzling it with gentle
affection. Castiel caught himself groaning, losing himself in the heat of
Dean’s breath through the simple fabric. He could stop all of this now,
Castiel knew, tear the claws of this temptation out of his skin and still keep
his dignity. But the way Dean started unbuckling his belt, slow and teasing,
the way he looked up at him with the lick of his lips. Nothing could prepare
Castiel for how quickly or how deeply he dove into sin.
With his pants unbuckled and zipper down, Dean started mouthing him again.
Simple cotton, thin and light, was the only thing separating Castiel’s
cock from the wet heat of Dean’s mouth. He ached for it, never having
ached for anything else quite like this, and bit back a moan when Dean peppered
gentle kisses along his hard length. One here, two there, right at the tip. A
shiver of anticipation slithered down Castiel’s spine. And when Dean
freed his cock from his clothing, Castiel finally decided to dance with the
Devil.
Dean’s mouth was satiny-smooth, hot and eager. Castiel bit his bottom
lip as Dean swallowed him down whole, bobbing up and down on his shaft like he
was meant for this. Everything, the wetness of Dean’s mouth, the
enthusiasm, made Castiel lose the fight with his shattered willpower. He gave
in and groaned, dragging gentle fingertips against the back of Dean’s
neck. It was Dean’s turn to moan and the noise vibrated around his cock,
shaking him to the core. Castiel gripped the hair at the base of his head as
Dean grew more enthusiastic, sucking harder, faster. He found it hard to keep
his focus, eyes rolling in the back of his head while another groan shot out of
his throat.
Somehow, he found enough mind to look down at Dean, watching him slide up and
down his length, adding the twist of a hand to make everything.. absolutely
incredible. The intimacy only heightened when their eyes met, held and
didn’t let go. The small tick of a smile found the corner of
Dean’s lips, more of a sly and charming thing than a gesture born of
mirth. Castiel watched as Dean opened his mouth wide and stick out his tongue.
It enabled Castiel to watch his own hard length begin its slow glide into
Dean’s mouth. The wet slick of saliva, the spot of precome on the back
of his tongue—it was the most.. erotic thing he had ever seen. He
couldn’t concentrate. His body needed its release, the urge was.. so
close.
Dean didn’t seem to care. He closed his mouth over Castiel’s cock
and sucked more forcefully, slipping up and down it even faster. Castiel
couldn’t stop watching. The slide of Dean’s lips over his
erection, the drool pooling at the corner of his mouth. Castiel forgot about
everything. Heaven. The delicate balance between right and wrong.
Breathing… Another moan ripped past his throat when Dean angled his cock
upward and back, dragging it along the roof of his mouth. The pressure on the
head with the sucking combined—
“Ignosce mihi, pater, quia pec­cavi..”
The old words were made unholy by the force of another groan. His
vessel’s release was just there and Castiel couldn’t stand it
anymore. He had to stop this.
Dean issued a hiss of protest when Castiel pulled him off. The absence of
Dean’s mouth on him was excruciating. The heat, the promise of orgasm
lost.. Before he could think, before his conscience could scream at him,
Castiel hoisted Dean up and pressed him against the wall. It was instinctive
the way Dean wrapped his legs around his body, clinging and closing the gap
between them. His green eyes flew open wide when he discovered that, by the
trick of something supernatural, his lower half was suddenly bare. The pupils
were blown with surprise, lust, mouth parted and frozen somewhere between bliss
and fear. For whatever reason, Dean didn’t seem to care that the head of
Castiel’s cock was at his hole. He was far too gone for that. Castiel
could feel it.
“Do you want this?”
Dean fumbled with logical thought. “Wha—“
“Do you want this!”
“Yes—fuck.. yes!” Dean groaned.
Castiel didn’t hesitate. He speared Dean with his hard cock, splitting
him open with a roughness he hadn’t intended. Dean’s groan was
loud and sharp, carried over several long notes of ecstasy. The thrusts were
powerful, quick, and Dean crumbled beneath it all, calling out with a moan
every single time. Castiel fought back his own, feeling his orgasm burning in
the depths of himself; his body, his Grace… his heart. Even in the
throes of their sin, Castiel couldn’t ignore how much he loved Dean.
Here, a thousand years ago, three hundred in the future—it was an
absolute truth that would never change. It was as timeless as Creation itself.
Never-ending.
The physical manifestation of his love continued its hard, fast rush toward
completion, making his skin tingle and a shiver roll up his spine. Dean tilted
his chin up and kept on with these beautiful, deep noises; filthy groans that
could have easily alerted both demons and angels to their deviance. Each one of
them left Castiel raw, on the verge of falling completely apart. Desperation
made Castiel dive forward to nip at Dean’s throat, kiss it, suck on it
and taste the sweetness of his skin. He kept his steady, hard rhythm, thrusting
into him once, twice more before finally feeling it; the divinity of his
body’s culmination. It struck him like a bolt of lightning, filling him
with an unbelievable warmth and sensation of absolute freedom. Castiel pressed
his face into sweet skin, kissing his collar bone, while Dean found his orgasm,
holding him through it, never wanting to let go. Between the aftershocks and
the spiral downward, they both became boneless against each other. Liquid. One.
When they peeled apart, Dean stepped back and pressed himself against the wall
as if to catch his breath. He looked completely tranquil and satisfied. Castiel
couldn’t help but take quiet pride in that. But the guilt, the crushing,
unmistakable guilt, found Castiel and shamed him. He was stunned into silence.
Dean was the first to break it. “Holy shit, man. That
was—“
“Promise me you won’t do this again,” Castiel blurted out.
“What?”
“Promise me!”
Dean startled. “I promise! Fuck.”
Castiel frowned and turned away. His mission was done.
“Uh—hey.”
Castiel inwardly sighed and stopped his retreat, not bothering to look at him.
“I know you saved my life and all, but,” Castiel heard Dean sigh.
“Look, I gotta eat, man. I got a brother at home. Do you think you can
spare some change?” A pause. “You gotta admit. That was pretty
amazing. Doesn’t that deserve a little.. somethin’?”
Always selfless.
Castiel turned back and handed him a thick roll of bills—currency that
had manifested with a thought. Dean took it with wide eyes.
“You promised.”
And with that, Castiel disappeared.
:::
Around them, sparks flew and the heat from the shotgun’s lead shot
burned against his skin. Dean’s beautiful face was awe-stuck, green eyes
wide in surprise.
“Who are you?”
“I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from
perdition.”
“Yeah. Thanks for that.”
Dean stared at him, caught between recognition and confusion.
“Do I… know you?”
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