“I’m your new God. A better one. So, you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you.”
The words send a shiver through you- a surprisingly good shiver- and before you can stop or even think, your knees are colliding with cold concrete.
“Y/N,” Dean hisses. “What are you doing?”
You open your mouth to say “I don’t know,” seeing as you really don’t know, but Castiel speaks first. His mouth has quirked up at one corner, a hint of a smirk.
“So loyal,” he says, voice low and husky. “My sweet pet.”
Slender fingers reach for you, cradling the back of your hand a moment before taking a firm grip on your hair and dragging you to your feet. A sharp gasp falls from your lips, and you bring your hands up instinctively to catch yourself against his chest.
Suddenly, you feel the ground fall away from your feet. Castiel’s grip is tight on your hair, his other arm gripping you around your waist. Air whips around you and then you land abruptly. You would stagger, but Castiel is solid and steady against your body.
“Where are we?” you ask, glancing around the room. It’s… nice. Cozy, really. All dark wood and a wall of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and deep red fabrics on the furniture. The bed is huge and looks beyond perfect.
“Somewhere the Winchesters will never find you.” Castiel tightens his hold on your hair, tugging your head back. “And no one will hear you scream.”
You melt against him with a helpless moan. Cas has always been hot when he gets all dom-y, but this? This is Castiel, all souped up on monster soul power, and you are putty in his hands.
“Are you going to be good for me?” he asks, free hand gripping your jaw. “Or will I have to punish you?”
You dig your fingers into the front of his trenchcoat. “Castiel…”
“I’m going to make you mine, pet.”
“I’m already yours,” you whisper.
He smiles. “Then let’s make sure you never forget.”
Only then does he kiss you, a bruising kiss that splits your lip and leaves you tasting blood. Once he’s satisfied with your mouth, he pulls you over to the bed.
“Strip and lay on your back,” he orders.
You quickly obey, taking deep breaths to keep yourself from just tearing your clothes off instead of giving Castiel the show you know he’s looking for. You also somehow manage to get out of your socks and boots without falling on your face. All in all, you don’t feel very sexy, but Castiel’s hungry gaze tells you he likes what he sees and that boosts your confidence.
You climb up onto the bed and stretch out on your back, cool air pebbling your skin. Castiel’s eyes are dark, and something in them makes your thighs clench, eager for whatever he has in store.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, one hand sliding up your shin, your thigh, to settle on your pelvis a moment. “I'm going to make you cum until you're crying, pet. Then I'm going to fuck you.”
Before you can respond, he shoves your thighs open, dragging you around so he can lean down and press his mouth against your clit. You squeak, hands flying down to dig into his hair. You've barely touched him, though, when an unseen force drags your hands away and pins them above your head. Then, the same force grips your ankles, spreading your legs wider and freeing Castiel’s hands.
Two fingers are pressed into your core, curling upward to stroke your g-spot. You shiver, rolling your hips? down against Castiel's hand and mouth. A tendril of power - his Grace, you're coming to realize - loops around your belly and stops your movements. Castiel growls against your clit, chuckling when you shudder and cry out in your first orgasm of the night.
He doesn't stop. Not after your second or third or even your fourth, even though you're so far past oversensitive that it's verging on painful. Number five pulls the first sob from your lips.
“There you go,” Castiel coos, twisting his fingers just so and drawing a softer sob from you. “One more, pet.”
You squeeze your eyes shut, body flexing helplessly in the hold of his grace. “I can't.”
You do. A mind-melting, whole-body shaking orgasm that pulls tears from your eyes and leaves you limp in his grip.
“Good girl,” Castiel purrs, gently lowering you to lie flat on the bed.
You're still shuddering, little muscle spasms in the aftermath of your orgasm. Your whole body is loose and malleable in his hands. Castiel arranges you on the bed, rolling you onto your stomach and tucking your knees under yourself. You feel so exposed like this, ass in the air and legs spread enough for Castiel to kneel between when he chooses to.
He sheds his trench coat and suit jacket. You turn your head in time to see him loosen his tie and slide it from his neck. He sees you watching and arches one eyebrow a little. The sight sends a shiver down your spine.
“Gorgeous,” Castiel praises, undoing the top few buttons of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. His shoes and socks are last, leaving him barefoot on the hardwood floor. Something about that makes your pussy clench. He climbs up onto the bed, kneeling between your spread legs, and strokes one hand over the curve of your ass. “My turn.”
You hear the zipper go down, the rustle of fabric, and then hard heat slides through your folds. Castiel ruts gently against you, bumping the head against your clit with every roll of his hips. You whine and shift away from that, but Castiel growls, and his fingers dig into your waist. The message is clear. You curl your arms in to pillow your head and dig your fingers into the comforter.
Without warning, Castiel shifts his cock up and there. There it is. Thick and hot and hard, pressing in all the way with one smooth stroke. You're plenty relaxed already, so Castiel's hips are pressed tight against your ass in no time.
“So tight,” Castiel sighs, grinding in deep and pulling a groan from your chest. “I'm going to fuck you now, pet. You are allowed to make noise, but I want you to hold still.”
“Yes, sir,” you manage.
Castiel doesn't speak again, only draws his hips back until only the tip remains before slamming back in. No warm up, no slow build, just the rough pounding of his hips against your ass. You can't stop the noises falling from your lips with each bruising thrust. Castiel's fingernails are digging marks into your skin, holding you in place for his cock.
“You're mine,” Castiel growls, leaning down to bite and kiss at the side of your neck. “And I don't plan on letting you go.”
Part of your brain says you should be concerned about that, but Castiel has removed his hands from your waist and is holding you instead with his strong arm wrapped around your stomach. He nuzzles into the curve of your neck, a gentle touch that contrasts sharply with the unrelenting drive of his hips.
“Mine,” he whispers, pinning you tight against his body. “Mine.”