puchuupoet (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
puchuupoet) wrote2011-11-03 11:01 pm
puchuupoet) wrote2011-11-03 11:01 pm
Entry tags:
fic: that blaze of light
Title: that blaze of light
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
puchuupoet
Pairings: Castiel/various other male angels. And Dean.
Word Count: ~880
Rating: nc-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Summary: Standing at the edge and trying to make the right decisions, Castiel tries to remember how he came to be there.
Notes: Written back in S6, near the end of things.
Zachariah
The first time Castiel meets Zachariah, there is bloodshed. It's better than the alternative, an angelic sword severing his spine, but the blood is still bitter-tasting on Castiel's tongue.
"You don't understand what's at stake here." Zachariah's voice is quiet at first, a disappointed tone that leaves Castiel squirming despite his rank. "You don't understand what we're fighting for."
But Zachariah teaches him, shows him the way to walk that line between pleasant and pissed. That all it takes is a soft smile and a wink to win someone over, and a sharp knife to the back to bring them down. There are orders given and received, a push to the shoulder that bring Castiel to his knees. His fingers tighten around the crease in Zachariah's slacks as fingers grip his hair, the sound of the zipper sharp in his ears, and Castiel tells himself that there's a greater good at stake here.
Gabriel
Fingernails scrape against his ribs, and Castiel does his best to bite back laughter as Gabriel's cock slides up next to his.
"Let it go," the whisper's soft in his ear, and it takes a couple more minutes, a couple more pokes and soft touches before Castiel's chuckling. His laughter turns to a soft groan when Gabriel grabs his hips, holds his vibrating belly still long enough to nudge his dick close, slide up inside him until they're closer than Castiel ever thought possible. He stills, eyes wide as Gabriel smiles down upon him. Gabriel swivels his hips, rocks them until Castiel bucks back, his fingers gripping tight at Gabriel's shoulders. There's emptiness when Gabriel pulls out, Castiel chasing after him with his hips scooting up.
"Never gonna leave you," Gabriel's voice is soft, his touch firm and reassuring, and Castiel gasps out his name when Gabriel falls back against him, filling him up.
Lucifer
"We could have been something great," Lucifer rasps out, his eyes sharp, and Castiel nods. They could have been.
Raphael
A snap of his fingers and Castiel's on the ground; sun in his eyes, copper in his mouth, and Raphael's foot on his junk. His memory clings to Dean, clings to that language, those smells, that sense of belonging. Because while Castiel is home right now, home is not with him. Pressure shifts to the left, and Castiel can feel the bruise blooming on his inner thigh, the muscles trembling underneath Raphael's weight.
"Remember me, Castiel. And what I can do to you." Pressure shifts back to the right, to the family jewels Castiel hears Dean's voice in his head, and Castiel blacks out.
Balthazar
"Remember how it used to be?" Balthazar's tone is easy, teasing Castiel along. "Orders and submission and all that. Too messy, really." He eyes Castiel above him, his gaze slowing down the lower it drops. "Better this way," he whispers.
"They were all meant to be broken." Castiel's not sure who he's channeling: Gabriel, Lucifer, Dean. But he finds himself agreeing with them all now; that the way things were was bullshit and there's a new world out there now, a new world that needs tempering; order of some sort to guide it along its way.
"I like you like this." Balthazar's voice drops, and Castiel finds he likes it that way. Low and submissive, and Balthazar even rolls over underneath him, belly up and exposed, arched up against him. "This..." His voice trails off when Castiel pulls back, turning into a whine, his body hitching up in short jerks.
"This?" Castiel asks him, his feet bracing against the base of the bed, hips slamming hard against Balthazar's. He can feel the ache already, knows that there'll be bruises on his brother's body in the morning. "Good."
Dean
Dean. Dean is insolent. Cocky and arrogant and starting to get in Castiel's way. He knows what he's doing, doesn't need the Winchesters to help him along any more. He doesn't regret them though, acknowledges them for the usefullness that they are, which is why he ends up at Dean's bedside one more time.
Dean still twists him up in peculiar ways. He can rationalize it logically or strategically, but neither ultimately makes sense. There's something deeper there, something that starts with his mark but is tangled up in deeper places than that.
Castiel can't describe the kiss. How it happens or why or when it ends. Just that he starts it, leaning over Dean and see a look of surprise on his face before Dean leans up and closes the gap between them. Dean's fingers are hard against Castiel's neck, keeping him from running away.
"Stay," Dean whispers against him, and the word echos throughout Castiel's body. His wings flutter with it, feathery tips aligning with the y, dragged out until it thrums through them both. Stay.
Castiel can't.
His hands draw up to cup Dean's face, to thank him, as best Castiel can. He tries to pass something on, hope or reassurance or even a little bit of Grace, whatever that can do for Dean. But then he's gone.
It's easier this way. Separated. Kept far apart until one of them succeeds or the other dies trying. Castiel thought he'd be okay either way, but now. Now he knows he wouldn't be. Dean can't handle what's about to come, what's already coursing through the atmosphere, dripping down onto existence.
It's up to Castiel now.
Author:
puchuupoetPairings: Castiel/various other male angels. And Dean.
Word Count: ~880
Rating: nc-17
Disclaimer: Not mine, never happened, completely fictional.
Summary: Standing at the edge and trying to make the right decisions, Castiel tries to remember how he came to be there.
Notes: Written back in S6, near the end of things.
Zachariah
The first time Castiel meets Zachariah, there is bloodshed. It's better than the alternative, an angelic sword severing his spine, but the blood is still bitter-tasting on Castiel's tongue.
"You don't understand what's at stake here." Zachariah's voice is quiet at first, a disappointed tone that leaves Castiel squirming despite his rank. "You don't understand what we're fighting for."
But Zachariah teaches him, shows him the way to walk that line between pleasant and pissed. That all it takes is a soft smile and a wink to win someone over, and a sharp knife to the back to bring them down. There are orders given and received, a push to the shoulder that bring Castiel to his knees. His fingers tighten around the crease in Zachariah's slacks as fingers grip his hair, the sound of the zipper sharp in his ears, and Castiel tells himself that there's a greater good at stake here.
Gabriel
Fingernails scrape against his ribs, and Castiel does his best to bite back laughter as Gabriel's cock slides up next to his.
"Let it go," the whisper's soft in his ear, and it takes a couple more minutes, a couple more pokes and soft touches before Castiel's chuckling. His laughter turns to a soft groan when Gabriel grabs his hips, holds his vibrating belly still long enough to nudge his dick close, slide up inside him until they're closer than Castiel ever thought possible. He stills, eyes wide as Gabriel smiles down upon him. Gabriel swivels his hips, rocks them until Castiel bucks back, his fingers gripping tight at Gabriel's shoulders. There's emptiness when Gabriel pulls out, Castiel chasing after him with his hips scooting up.
"Never gonna leave you," Gabriel's voice is soft, his touch firm and reassuring, and Castiel gasps out his name when Gabriel falls back against him, filling him up.
Lucifer
"We could have been something great," Lucifer rasps out, his eyes sharp, and Castiel nods. They could have been.
Raphael
A snap of his fingers and Castiel's on the ground; sun in his eyes, copper in his mouth, and Raphael's foot on his junk. His memory clings to Dean, clings to that language, those smells, that sense of belonging. Because while Castiel is home right now, home is not with him. Pressure shifts to the left, and Castiel can feel the bruise blooming on his inner thigh, the muscles trembling underneath Raphael's weight.
"Remember me, Castiel. And what I can do to you." Pressure shifts back to the right, to the family jewels Castiel hears Dean's voice in his head, and Castiel blacks out.
Balthazar
"Remember how it used to be?" Balthazar's tone is easy, teasing Castiel along. "Orders and submission and all that. Too messy, really." He eyes Castiel above him, his gaze slowing down the lower it drops. "Better this way," he whispers.
"They were all meant to be broken." Castiel's not sure who he's channeling: Gabriel, Lucifer, Dean. But he finds himself agreeing with them all now; that the way things were was bullshit and there's a new world out there now, a new world that needs tempering; order of some sort to guide it along its way.
"I like you like this." Balthazar's voice drops, and Castiel finds he likes it that way. Low and submissive, and Balthazar even rolls over underneath him, belly up and exposed, arched up against him. "This..." His voice trails off when Castiel pulls back, turning into a whine, his body hitching up in short jerks.
"This?" Castiel asks him, his feet bracing against the base of the bed, hips slamming hard against Balthazar's. He can feel the ache already, knows that there'll be bruises on his brother's body in the morning. "Good."
Dean
Dean. Dean is insolent. Cocky and arrogant and starting to get in Castiel's way. He knows what he's doing, doesn't need the Winchesters to help him along any more. He doesn't regret them though, acknowledges them for the usefullness that they are, which is why he ends up at Dean's bedside one more time.
Dean still twists him up in peculiar ways. He can rationalize it logically or strategically, but neither ultimately makes sense. There's something deeper there, something that starts with his mark but is tangled up in deeper places than that.
Castiel can't describe the kiss. How it happens or why or when it ends. Just that he starts it, leaning over Dean and see a look of surprise on his face before Dean leans up and closes the gap between them. Dean's fingers are hard against Castiel's neck, keeping him from running away.
"Stay," Dean whispers against him, and the word echos throughout Castiel's body. His wings flutter with it, feathery tips aligning with the y, dragged out until it thrums through them both. Stay.
Castiel can't.
His hands draw up to cup Dean's face, to thank him, as best Castiel can. He tries to pass something on, hope or reassurance or even a little bit of Grace, whatever that can do for Dean. But then he's gone.
It's easier this way. Separated. Kept far apart until one of them succeeds or the other dies trying. Castiel thought he'd be okay either way, but now. Now he knows he wouldn't be. Dean can't handle what's about to come, what's already coursing through the atmosphere, dripping down onto existence.
It's up to Castiel now.
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(I'm slowly cleaning out my to-finish folder between deadlined fics :p )
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