fromfryingpantofire | He's as damned as he seems/And more Heaven than a heart could hold (NSFW)

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castiel,
rp

He's as damned as he seems/And more Heaven than a heart could hold (NSFW)

They tended to switch bars a lot, never sticking to any one location and they'd drive out a ways away from the bunker. Lebanon was way too small for them to hit up the bars there very often, but it wasn't that far to the state line and there were other towns around, too.

Sam and Dean had gone their separate ways tonight, each planning to hustle pool or cards in a different place. As usual these days, Castiel had come with Sam. The former angel had picked up pool rather quickly, which wasn't surprising considering it was pretty much all math and angles. For the moment, though, Sam was the one cleaning the table with the current set of drunkards who had decided to try their hand against him.

He looked up just as he finished the current game, gathering up the money that had been bet. He'd been going to call out to Castiel, but the sound died in his throat when he saw someone else was talking to the other man. Someone who was entirely too close for Sam's liking.

He nodded to the other players, pocketing the money before walking over and putting a hand between Castiel's shoulder blades before letting it slip down. "Hey, Cas. Who's your friend?"

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Sam might have forgiven him, but Castiel never has forgiven himself. For years now he's been trying to fix his own past mistakes, no matter the cost. He's not sure he'll ever truly be... over all of this. He's an ancient creature, and sometimes learning is a slow process.

His fingers dig in a little harder.

"I'm blessed to have you Sam, more than I can say."

And in a way that's too depressing to think about, he's blessed to have fallen, too. A human life allows him to grow as old with Sam as is possible in the hunting life, allows him not to have to face the possibility of losing Sam and living on for all eternity without him.

That is a terrifying thought even for him.

"They piled onto me. Choked me inside my vessel even before they left me to drown in the lake. And I had to watch through their eyes as they attacked Dean and Bobby with my hands."

There would most certainly be bruises on his ankles the next day. Castiel has no intention of making this easy on himself. He's not into extreme pain play, the flogging intended to lift his body into that floating subspace, not make him bleed and scream in agony. And that's never something he'd have Sam do to him anyway. Torture is something quite different from what they do, after all. That won't deter him from turning those bonds against himself today.

The muscles between his shoulders are rock hard as Sam finishes tying him up. During usual scenes, this would all happen with a bigger sense of sensuality, but tonight isn't about pleasure for either of them.

Castiel's thighs tremble as he shifts to keep his footing more easily. He can't see what Sam is preparing behind him.

He presses another kiss to Castiel's temple, his hands sliding over the other man's back and shoulders. "I remember what that's like," he says softly. "Watching your own body attack people you love, killing them and knowing it's your fault."

Sam doesn't much talk about the time when Lucifer rode him. Doesn't talk about how Lucifer allowed him to see everything. It had been the only way he'd been able to take control again in the end, but to watch Castiel and Bobby die and his own hands pummel Dean? It was hard.

"You survived, Cas. You were stronger than them and you survived. And I will never, ever stop being grateful for that."

Knowing that they'd be going directly to bed once this was done, Sam takes a few moments to change his clothing. Most importantly, he changes his jeans for soft flannel pajama pants, getting rid of his shirt as well.

Once that's done, he goes to the closet, pulling out the flogger and the one cane that they own. Like the black collar, it doesn't see a lot of use. There's too much bite to it for Sam to really be comfortable using it much and it tends to pull Castiel out of subspace. So it's relegated to punishment, which is what Sam needs tonight.

He walks up behind Castiel, placing his hand between the man's shoulder blades. More specifically, over the anti-possession tattoo that had been inked there, along with the three letters around it -- Enochian for Sam's name. He traces the letters, feeling the tension in his muscles. "Two stripes with the cane across your shoulders. Another two across your ass and another two across your thighs," he says steadily. "One for your impatience at the bar, the second for your disobedience here. I will not hesitate to add a third if I must." For whatever might drive him to say two. "I had plans, Castiel. Plans that did not involve teaching you a lesson to remind you who is the master here."

Not the one in charge. They were partners and equals, for the most part, and they both had the power to end a scene. But 'master' was a good word to use because it didn't have awful connotations for either of them. "Once I'm done with the cane, I'll use the flogger. For the moment, I think forty strokes will remind you of your place." Forty strokes was the high end of what Sam would normally administer when they played, more than enough to send Castiel floating. The stripes from the cane would prevent that tonight, focusing each stroke along the sharp lines of the caning.

"Is that the best you can do... boy?"

He dooms himself with it. It'll be his last transgression, sure to ramp the count up to two. Overstepping the boundaries of his role, his position, questioning Sam's authority, questioning the extent of his punishment.

Castiel braces himself for the cane. This won't be pleasant for either of them, not even a little. But it'll anchor him back into who he is now, and provide ample punishment for his transgressions. At least for now.

At least for tonight. Tomorrow, they can work on building themselves back up to where they're supposed to be, if Sam will even have him after this shameful display of willful disobedience. Maybe Sam will sympathize with Heaven and it being fed up with Castiel's ways, now.

Regardless, he's ready for the cane, ready for the flogger. Ready to bear the sharp punishment that he deserves.

"So did you," Castiel murmurs, once again pressing his lips to Sam's, bringing his hands up to cup his face. "And so am I."

Because without Sam, there is no Dean, and without both, there is no Castiel. Nothing is worth losing them for, nothing. Castiel would repeat all of his mistakes endlessly if it just meant he could keep the two of them, keep everything just as it is right then, right now.

They've made their share of mistakes. They've had their share of trauma inflicted upon them, but they've survived. They've come through, and it's led them here. Living together in the bunker with Dean and Kevin, and the world - for once, for now - in order.

It's followed up immediately by the smack of Sam's hand on Castiel's ass. Hard, stinging for them both. "That's two." Castiel would have expected that, but he still said it out loud. "One more and we stop this all together tonight."

There is absolutely nothing in the world that could make Sam sympathize with Heaven about Castiel. No way that even these transgressions could make Sam turn away from his lover. But they do worry him, make him wonder what, really, the former angel really wants to be punished for.

"And the flogging will go up to fifty." Which is the absolute upper limit of anything they've done together. But Castiel obviously needs his penance and Sam knows he can stop if it's too much for Castiel.

He steps back, taking a steadying breath as he tests the cane again before bringing his arm up and laying the first stripe across Castiel's shoulders. Lighter than he will do on the ass and thighs, but there's less protection across the shoulders. He lays the three stripes there down quickly before moving downward, making each stripe almost exactly parallel to the others. It will likely mean that sitting down isn't going to happen much over the next few days, but Sam hopes it's enough to settle Castiel down again.

The kiss helps to settle Sam, making him smile as he reaches for the soap. He lathers up a washcloth and begins wiping down Castiel's back, down over his ass and between his cheeks. Slow and methodical, cleaning away everything of the night before they returned to the bunker.

He gets to his knees to clean Castiel's legs, taking a moment to press a kiss to the chastity device. "I'll remove this when we're in the bedroom," he says, looking up at Castiel. "Once I've bound your hands. That way, the only touch you feel on your dick could be mine."

And that was why he was taking it off, even though he had worked hard to train Castiel to accept it. Because he needed every reminder possible right now whose hands he was in. "You'll be allowed to come as many times as you can tonight. Just so that you know."

Castiel yelps at the smack to his ass, not in pain but because he was unprepared for it. Unprepared but oh so grateful for receiving it all the same. This is what he needs, and he needs it desperately.

Three strikes with the cane. He makes it through three of them before he cries out in earnest. As an angel nothing could hurt him, nothing could reach or touch him. Now is a different story. Sensations are almost too much for him to bear. When all of this began, when being close to Sam awoke his sexual appetite, Castiel hadn't been able to bring himself too completion, too overwhelmed by pleasure that felt more like pain. Many things had taken him long to get used to, and many more were still utterly overwhelming to him. It made their scenes more intense, more amazing now that he could accurately deal with the varying sensations, could appreciate the flavor of Sam's cock and the way the sting of a slap would fade into a tingle to fuel his desires.

The cane is different. More vicious, all bite and no delicious lick, and for just a moment Castiel becomes aware of the fact that pushing Sam into increasing the punishment to this was a very foolish thing to do. He won't make it, doesn't know how he'll even begin to bear 50 strikes with the flogger after this when the cane alone makes him strain in his bonds.

But he won't call it, pressing his lips tight and muffles his own cries as the cane comes down on his ass. This is what he deserves and he will not run from it, will not use his safeword for an easy out. Not tonight. He can't, he can't, and he won't let Sam end it either.

Castiel tangles his fingers in Sam's hair as he kneels, that alone enough to make him feel humbled and taken care of. To have Sam kneeling in front of him, a position normally reserved for Castiel, it's... heartwarming. It means a lot, right now. As does the promise of things to come. His chastity device was a lifeline and taking it off felt like defeat to Castiel. But at the same time it would mean receiving Sam's touch there once more, letting Sam reestablish control over every aspect of his body. He'll find all the release that he's abstained from in the past, and thanks to it being granted by Sam, the prospect is exciting rather than off-putting.

"Thank you, Sam."

For a moment he tips his head back against the warm, wet tiles of the shower stall, just enjoying the way Sam touches him, washes him clean and replaces the ghost of the evening with the distinct sensation of his own touch. Castiel groans softly when it all begins to get to him, when he's relaxed and comfortable enough for the prospect of it starts pooling in his groin.

"Sam... would you grant me something else, before we get into the bedroom?"

After the last of the cane strikes to Castiel's thighs, Sam steps forward and slides his fingers into Castiel's hair, pulling his head back slightly so that he could reach Castiel's ear. "Don't even think about holding back your cries," he says, voice gone steely. Sometimes, Castiel responds better to that in moods like this. "I will not cause you serious damage and if I get close to that, I need to know. If I damage or cause serious harm to you, I will blame myself for it."

It's a cheap trick, maybe, but even in this sort of mood, he knows Castiel will take that seriously. He didn't want Sam to blame himself for things that happen between them. At this point, Sam is counting on that to make certain Castiel will safe word if he had to. Or, at least, not bite back the sounds that will allow Sam to make the judgement calls he needs to.

Sam looks up from where he's kneeling, finishing the cleaning and rinsing away the last of the soap on Castiel's legs. It's sort of a strange position to be in, but one that he doesn't mind in the least. After all, part of the implied contract between them is allowing Sam to care for Castiel when things go wrong, whether in scene or in life. The same as Castiel does for him.

"Of course. You can ask me for anything, Cas. I may not always be able to give it right away, but you can always ask."

The voice grips Castiel more tightly than Sam's hands ever could, and he realizes that once again he's been selfish and hurt Sam in the process. It's not the first time he's done this - when he dismissed Sam as a boy with demon blood, when he let him out of the panic room, when he tore him out of the cage without a soul and didn't try to fix his mistake because he was fighting a war, when he broke Sam's wall just to get the Winchesters off his back.

Right now he's in the process of using Sam and hurting him again. So he nods, gives the man silent confirmation that he understands and will obey. When Sam lets go of him, Castiel lets his head sink forward and says "I'm sorry" before the next strike can land. And he is. The tears pooling in his eyes having nothing to do with the pain he's in, but everything to do with the guilt that no punishment can ever diminish.

Castiel's lips curve into a soft smile at this, the small tender one reserved for Dean and Sam alone, because it tends to only come out in those rare moments of pure happiness. Castiel doesn't beam with his face, but with his eyes, underlined by the softening of his features.

"If you'll allow it, I'd have your taste on my tongue for the night. Before or during, preferably, or after if you deem that more appropriate."

Sam makes the call. He knows what Castiel wishes to be granted, but Sam trusts him to make the right decision for them both in this. He's shaken and looking for any security he can get.

He hates it, hates putting that guilt onto Castiel, but he could see that Castiel was going to be stubborn. And while that might be okay at some other times, during a punishment scene where he keeps pushing the punishments up? It really isn't.

Sam nods, taking a step back. "I won't make you count unless you start holding back on me again. Then you will start counting." Because that would be the way to be able to hear Castiel's voice, to be certain of how much pain he was in.

He licks his lips, closing his eyes for a moment before he raises the flogger and lays the first stroke across Castiel's ass.

And Sam does so love to see that smile, because it's so rare to see. But no less beautiful for that rarity.

He leans in, kissing Castiel's hip before nodding. "I think that's something that can easily be granted. I think, perhaps, when we get to the bedroom, after I've removed the device and taken your hands from you." After all, he's going to want time to get hard again. The massage and the belting should take care of that, but a little extra time won't hurt at all. "You know how much I enjoy your mouth."

"And you know how much I enjoy when you use it."

The smile deepens a little, crinkling Castiel's eyes. Their best nights see Sam make use of Castiel's mouth and ass, thoroughly wrecking the former angel until he knows nothing but his subspace and Sam's warmth everywhere around and inside of him. The fact that they've gotten here sometimes still astonishes him. It seems so strange that this sort of happiness was granted to them, bumps and failures like tonight not withstanding.

When Sam gets to his feet again, Castiel moves into his arms, kisses him slow and sweet. He rarely says 'I love you', shows it instead.

The bonds holding Castiel in place rattle as he pulls on them, though the only sound that leaves him is a choked off gasp, breathless. The pain isn't even too bad yet, but it's fire and lightning without the rush of endorphin to carry Castiel into subspace. He doesn't know how he will get to 50, but is determined to make it - even if he has to cry out, even if Sam will hear when he's close to breaking.

He's grateful that he doesn't have to count, at least. Counting would have wrecked him. Right now he'd rather lose himself in this, lose track of how much more there is for him to bear.

He draws Castiel closer, tilting his head into the kiss and holding him close. 'I love you' isn't really a thing that the Winchesters say easily, no matter what. So he's always glad of the little things that Castiel does and allows him to do in return that show rather than just tell.

The kiss goes on for a while before Sam pulls back, smiling down at him. "Come on. Let's get dried off and go to the bedroom. There's still a lot that I want to do to you before we sleep tonight."

There's absolutely no pleasure in this for either of them. Sam does his best to keep the pain from building up too much in one area, switching between ass and shoulders and thighs so that each gets thoroughly reddened.

He has to stop around thirty, give his arm a break while listening to Castiel closely, watching his body to see if it's been too much.

Castiel's breathen is definitely ragged. The last few hits made him cry out, but the break is giving him time to calm himself, get his bearings together. His body doesn't just ache, it hurts, badly so, and Castiel makes a frustrated sound as he shifts his weight, tries to alleviate the pressure.

He can do more. This is only a little further than they've ever gone, and he knows he can do it, knows he has to. Owes it to Sam, owes it to the thousands who died and suffered at his hands. Castiel's throat burns from the misuse of his voice, but once he finds his footing again, he stands steadily enough - waiting for more, willing to push himself through this, determined to make it, to not disappoint again - even if he has it wrong as to what would constitute a disappointment at this point.

Since Castiel isn't using his safe word, Sam takes a moment to look over his back and make certain there weren't any bleeding wounds. If there was blood, he'd call it there, but a quick inspection seems to show that the skin is unbroken.

The fact that Castiel can still stand is something, so Sam takes a breath and lets it out slowly. He can do this. "Twenty more," he tells the other man, more to let him know that they're closer to done than they were when they started.

Then he starts again, a little slower to give himself and Castiel a chance to call it if needed.

Castiel manages until 40 before his legs give out underneath him and his voice breaks on an already hoarse cry, throat raw and cheeks wet with tears. "I'm sorry," he mutters, two, three times with a broken voice, struggling to get his trembling legs to carry his weight again instead of the rings above his head. "I can... I'm... I'm good..." But he isn't. Castiel is in pain, emotionally more devastating even than the physical, although right now both pains are fairly evenly matched. And he can't admit failure, doesn't want Sam's anger, doesn't want his safe word or another provocation, just wants to do something right, see something through that'll allow him to feel like he earned forgiveness, like he deserves it.

The words send a small thrill of pleasure down Castiel's spine, make him feel one step closer to right again. The night is not over by a long shot, and he has a lot to look forward to now - Sam's hands, Sam's cock, Sam's belt, Sam's care, Sam's ownership.

The fallen angel follows out of the shower stall, lets Sam thoroughly rub him dry with one of those large, ridiculously soft towels - Dean does the laundry, and to all of their surprise they've found him to be ridiculously good at that.

They kiss with affection a few more times before Castiel strokes Sam's cheek, bringing their softly spoken words back to the upcoming scene. "Do you want me to talk or remain silent?"

Sam immediately sets the flogger aside, moving to Castiel's side and wrapping his arm around the other man's waist. The area has far too many organs to be considered useful for flogging, so it's also a safe spot for him to put his arm, to help take the weight so that Castiel doesn't hurt himself.

"Cas, no," he says softly, reaching up to wipe the hair from Castiel's forehead. "That's enough." It was obviously more than enough. "I'm calling it. My safe word is Lucifer and that's it, Cas. No more."

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