Sam Winchester (
fromfryingpantofire) wrote2013-12-16 03:42 pm
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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?"
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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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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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.
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"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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But he can't even summon up the energy to put his feet properly on the ground to carry his weight. Part of him knows this is for the best, that he has to let Sam safe word them both out of this. Another part of him wants those last ten stripes, to not fail at his own punishment, to not get off so easily, like the other times.
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If Castiel could stand properly, he might have finished. But there was no way that was happening. Sam shifts over a bit, using his own strength to keep Castiel upright so that he can untie his wrists. Now isn't the time for praise, but Sam does his best to let Castiel know that he's there for him, that he's worried and absolutely cares for him. He lets Castiel down slowly, following him down so that he can get to the other man's ankles as well.
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Castiel feels like a nerve flayed raw and open, unable to to fully disentangle himself from the scene, his sins, his guilt. He needs something, but can't voice what it is, can't ask for it, can't possible communicate it to Sam, because he doesn't know what it is that he needs. For now, he simply worries that he broke what they share.
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It will have to be punishment enough, not having any further treatment for the stripes than what is absolutely necessary that night. Sam doesn't particularly like it, but Castiel is being too quiet and too hard on himself because the punishment was called early.
He reaches up, stroking his fingers through Castiel's hair. Then he does something he rarely does, leaning in to kiss Castiel's head near his ear. "I love you, Cas. No matter what, that's always going to be true."
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And Castiel leans into the touch. The scene... is over, he can't possibly break the rules anymore than he has tonight, and he's received punishment. For now, that has to be enough, even if it doesn't feel like enough. No punishment scene can change the fundamental truth of their emotions, though, and for that he is grateful. So Castiel nods.
"on the bed. Bruise cream in the morning," he repeats softly, and complies without further protest or discussion, lowers himself onto his front so that Sam can check the large square of pain that is Castiel's back, ass, thighs.
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It's definitely difficult to look at and he knows he handed out far too much punishment for what had happened that night. He looks it over closely, though, and nods finally, satisfied that the skin didn't split and that Castiel was mostly okay. He pulls the sheet over Castiel, knowing he won't be able to take anything heavier tonight. Possibly not for a few nights.
Then he goes around the bed to climb in on his side, moving over so that he's right next to Castiel. "Come on," he says softly. "You can use me as a pillow tonight, yeah?"
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Castiel wakes up early the next morning, mainly because he aches and enjoyed deep, restful slumber in Sam's arms otherwise. Disentangling himself is not an easy task without waking the young man, but he manages, though it takes a soft kiss to prevent him from stirring awake. Castiel winces when he pulls on one of Sam's shirt and his sweatpants before shuffling outside the room quietly and towards the kitchen. Every step is painful, but he has some missteps to make up for, and the kitchen is where he can start on that. Just a simple breakfast.
He'll manage that without burning the place down, surely.
How hard can it be?
Luckily Dean wakes up and intervenes before Castiel can ruin the second carton of eggs. He notices the way the fallen angel carries himself, as if the presence of Sam's oversized giant moose shirt on Castiel wasn't indication enough, but he knows not to say anything. He can't claim to understand the life style they've chosen, but he knows it's not abuse. Everything they do happens with utter consent and under strict rules of safety and security. They're in good hands with one another.
Doesn't mean Dean's not gonna fuss over Cas if they had a... well. Uh. Rough night.
Heh.
So he presses a carton of cereal, a bowl, spoon and milk into Castiel's arm, certain that he can't mess that up, and sends him to laze on the couch and watch Kevin play video games or bicker with him over whether they can't switch to Saturday morning cartoons, or whatever, while he goes to make proper breakfast and coffee.
Castiel is a little shit and only takes the carton of cereal.
When Sam enters the kitchen, too long hair sticking up everwhere, Dean grins. "Mornin' sunshine. Cas is vegging on the couch. You two... good?"
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So when he enters the kitchen, blurry-eyed and in need of coffee, he's a bit surprised to see Dean there. The grin surprises him, too, before the question makes its way through his brain. "Huh? Oh, yeah, we're good. Just a bit of a difficult night. Cas was in a weird mood all last night."
I don't have a Dean account, so Dean now looks remarkably like Cas.
I think Sam can tell the difference. ;)
He folds his hands in front of his face, though, raising an eyebrow. "Uh. Yeah, that would be a no. What news segment?" Sam had been researching most of the day the day before and hadn't gotten to see the news. Looks like that might have been a mistake.
ARE YOU SUUUUUUURE?
Dean gives him a look, because aside from Kevin they all know what happened back then. They all know who the man is.
"Cas got a bit weird after that. I told him to go to the bar with you in my place. Figured it'd take his mind off things."
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