elementalv: Screenshot from Sherlock of "You know where to find me. SH." (Default)
[personal profile] elementalv
Title: Mirror, Mirror
Author: elementalv
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Notes/Spoilers: Missing scene from SPN 5.18. Written for [community profile] kink_bingo for the prompt of mirror.
Summary: To be honest, Dean hadn’t thought it through, which, again to be honest, was like saying fish lived in water. Dean never thought shit like this through.


To be honest, Dean hadn’t thought it through, which, again to be honest, was like saying fish lived in water. Dean never thought shit like this through. He usually just winged it — and yeah, that was a phrase that had problems on its own anymore — and bullshitted his way to the other side. It might not be the most grown-up thing in the world to do, but hell. He was a hunter and Michael’s special toy surprise, so did he really need to worry about shit like this?

Of course, that was what he’d thought before Cas pinned him to the vanity and pulled his head back, saying, “Look at yourself. Look.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see what the damage was, and yes, there would definitely be damage. Dean had already sent a memo to himself that went something like, “Self — in the future, don’t piss off your pet angel.” Getting thrown against a building wasn’t high on his list of things to do again.

“I said look, Dean, not avoid.”

Damn it.

Cas’s grip on his head tightened just enough that Dean finally gave in and looked. The cut on his forehead had a slow trickle of blood still oozing out and running down the side of his face, and there was drying blood on his lips. The last couple of times he spit, though, it was clear, so he knew the cut inside his lip had already closed up. But he didn’t figure it would take much for Cas to open it right back up again if he wanted.

“What do you see?”

God fucking damn it.

Cas’s voice had always been in the low range, but now? Now it was little more than a growl, and that really shouldn’t be doing shit for him, except that it was. He shoved his hips a little harder against the vanity to try and convince himself to settle down, and it might have worked if Cas hadn’t been there, shoving his own hips into Dean’s ass.

He groaned.

“What do you see?” Cas asked again.

Dean needed to get it together if he was going to make it to the other side of this mess in one piece. “You,” he ground out, trying for neutral instead of scared and turned on.

“What else?” Cas punctuated the question with a little grind against Dean’s ass.

God fucking damn it all to hell —

“And me. I see you and me.” Dean thought about adding a patented smartass answer, but for once, he remembered to calculate his odds of survival beforehand, and they didn’t look all that great.

“You and me what?”

“Um —” Cas shoved his face right next to Dean’s, cheeks touching, a little of the blood on Dean’s forehead getting transferred to Cas’s temple. “Together?”

“Exactly.” Cas turned his head just enough to nuzzle Dean’s face, and that was even more fucked up than the hard-on Dean wanted to forget. “You and me. Together.”

“Okay, I get it,” he said, his voice hitching.

Cas moved back a little so he could bite down on Dean’s neck, just below his ear. “Get what?”

“You and me. Together. We’re a — fuck!”

How in God’s name was Dean supposed to keep it together when Cas was doing that? He closed his eyes — only for a minute — but Cas wasn’t having any of it. He bit down a little harder, right where Dean’s neck met his shoulder, then said, “Keep looking, Dean. See how it is with us.”

Dean looked, and he saw. He saw himself kind of — okay, totally — losing his shit while Cas took him apart with far more patience than Dean could imagine ever having. And God, Dean would have really loved to say this wasn’t happening, that this wasn’t him, but it was, and he was, and if Cas stopped touching him, Dean thought there was the smallest chance he might end up in chick flick territory, complete with tears and begging.

“Do you see?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I —”

Dean’s blue jeans were open finally, and Cas had his hand down the front of Dean’s underwear, cupping Dean’s dick squeezing it like he knew exactly how Dean liked it. And maybe Cas did. After all, he was the one who rebuilt Dean from the ground up, so it stood to reason that he had a clue about Dean’s buttons. Cas’s expertise was something Dean really, really wanted to pay more attention to, but he couldn’t, because he was far too absorbed by what he saw in the mirror. He thought he was the wreck, but he caught a glimpse of Cas’s eyes, and man, oh man, Cas was fucking gone on this.

“Cas —”

“I have you,” he answered, and Dean thought that was about right. Cas had him, has him, will have him for now and evermore, thank ever-loving Christ. The only thing that would make this moment any more perfect would be if he could let go of the vanity just long enough to try and make Cas feel half of what he was making Dean feel. The problem was, though, that Cas was working some kind of mojo on him. Had to be, because Dean wasn’t usually that self-absorbed when it came to sex.

He might have continued on that train of thought, but Cas was starting to bring him home, using his thumb to catch some of what was leaking out of the end of Dean’s dick and sliding it down, slick as anything Dean had ever felt. As if that weren’t enough — which, as far as Dean was concerned, Cas’s hand on his dick was more than enough — Cas was starting to talk to him.

“Look at us, Dean. You and me. We’re together in this. I didn’t give everything to you just so you could throw it away on a whim. Do you understand?”

“Yeah — yes. Just — fuck —”

“You’re mine, not his. He doesn’t get to have you. Do you understand?”

“Yes. Yes, please —”

Dean closed his eyes again, because it was too much to watch himself fall apart at Cas’s touch, but Cas wasn’t through with him yet. He tugged on Dean’s head and hissed, “Watch!”

He opened his eyes and could barely focus, and when he did manage, all he could see was how completely wild he looked, bucking and jerking against Cas. His eyes were wide, despite the sweat running into them, and he was pretty sure his pupils were blown enough to make him look like a demon. Every nerve ending in his body felt like it was trying to fire off at once, and he was pretty sure they were all tied directly into his dick. He would have collapsed by now, but there was no way he was getting loose, not with Cas’s arm around his chest like a fucking steel bar, and his hand on Dean’s dick like a goddamn collar. And Christ, the thought of that, the very idea of Cas owning him was enough to send Dean over the edge.

Watching himself come had never been high on Dean’s list of shit to do before he died, but watching himself come at the same time he watched Cas fall to pieces? Hell yeah. He could get into that big time. He forced himself to stand a little higher, and somehow, he managed to get his hands behind him and into Cas’s pants, and — fuck yeah. That was what he was after: Cas shoving hard into Dean’s fist like there was no other place he’d rather be. Considering how much of anything it took for Cas to feel anything, Dean figured they might be there for a while, so he was pretty damn pleased with himself when Cas came after just a few hard, twisting strokes. He was even more pleased when Cas followed it up with a full body shudder and an absolutely devastated look on his face.

It was nice to know he wasn’t the only one who just got pulled apart and put back together again in nothing flat.

It took a few minutes, but eventually, Cas said, “Dean?”


“Don’t do something that stupid again.”

It was a long moment before Dean said, “You know I can’t promise that.”
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August 2011

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