Work Text:
Blood pumping in his ears, heart in his throat and somehow in his groin at the same time — Dean waits.
He can feel the utter want coursing through him down to his fucking fingertips.
His hands are shaking and his right knee just can’t stay still. He feels lightheaded like he stood up too fast or got tackled to the ground by a vamp and hit his head hard on the floor.
He feels like he’s dying . Being ripped apart at the seams, about to combust all over Baby’s sweet interior and muck up the leather with his guts.
He’s never felt more alive.
But somehow, at the same time he feels off. Wrong footed. Like waiting for your shower to go from freezing to room temperature.
Vulnerable. Awkward.
He knows why he feels this way and he almost wishes he didn’t.
He almost wishes he could crave something else. Something normal.
Something safe.
Like beer.
Beer’s good. Dean’s been drinking beer since he turned double digits — first sip at the ripe age of eight and a half. Beer is what every red blooded American man craves after a long, hard day at work. Dean’s had enough long, hard days in his life to earn him free-reign at every brewery in Kansas for God’s sake. Sam would probably roll his eyes at that, if beer was Dean’s hunger.
But he doesn’t want beer.
He wants Castiel.
He wants to yank Castiel up by the hair, have him look at him through long, fluttering eyelashes.
Wants Castiel to kneel for him. Wants to kneel for Castiel. Wants to lick and bite and kiss Castiel’s skin until it’s so red and raw that it doesn’t even look like skin anymore.
It’s wrong. It’s so wrong and Dean knows it. Cas is an angel. A stuck up, weirdo (edging on borderline creepy), dork angel. But Dean wants him. Oh , how he wants that angel.
Maybe it’s okay that it’s wrong. It’s gotta be better than wanting a demon, right? (no offense Sam. Well, maybe a little offense.) Everything in Dean’s life has all been so fucked up and wrong and evil that this? This is almost innocent.
So what if Dean wants to dig his nails into Cas’ skin to feel them pop into his flesh? So what if he wants to grab Cas by his stupid tie and yank him forwards so hard it tears the fabric.
It’s gotta be better than making demon deals.
Right? Right.
Dean closes his eyes, almost involuntarily. There’s no one around. No one’s gonna know if he lets his head drop back on the back of the seat.
If he lets himself imagine it.
Having Cas at his mercy. Hearing him say Please, Dean, and Kiss me, Dean, and Fuck me, Dean.
Dean. God that rumble of his voice is so clear in his mind. He never thought his ear was an erogenous zone for him but with Cas whispering into his ear it definitely could be.
Dean, Dean, Dean.
He realizes — perhaps a moment too late —that all those Dean’ s aren’t just coming from inside his sick little fantasies.
He jolts and fucking yelps when he sees Cas right next to him.
“Jesus.” He swears, catching his breath. Maybe if Famine wasn’t in the process of making everyone in this town—and Dean, by proxy—it’s bitch, he would’ve said something more.
Warn a guy next time, or You get off on sneaking up on people, or something? But not today. Today he can only manage one word, too distracted by wanting and wanting and wanting.
“No, it’s Castiel.” He says with all seriousness in the world. Dean would huff a laugh usually—if not an exasperated one. But all he can think to do now is stare.
Stare at Cas and his messy, just-rolled-out-of-bed, black-as-the-sky-above-Baby’s-windshield hair.
Think about what it feels like to tug on it.
He stares at his large hands that cradle more White Castle burgers and he thinks about what else Cas could cradle with them.
But mostly, Dean is staring at Cas’ mouth. Grease is pooled just below his bottom lip, in the dip of skin where his chin juts out. Dean thinks about licking it off.
Cas’ cheeks bulge with his beloved red meat, Dean thinks about filling his mouth with something else. Something Dean .
He thinks about Cas loving it. Cas asking for more. Cas grabbing his hips and taking more. Dean being helpless to it.
“These make me very happy.” Cas grins around his mouthful.
Dean looks at the wet stretch of pink skin. Dean has to press his lips together to stop a whimper from escaping.
The feel of wrong footedness is gone with Cas’ presence finally here next to Dean. But his want has gone up considerably. He feels it everywhere. Everytime he moves, a rush of adrenaline shoots through his entire body. He feels it inside of his bones, ripping through his stomach, pushing at the backs of his eyes like a migraine.
So he stays exactly where he is.
And he doesn’t fucking move.
Because if he does, he knows he’s going after Castiel.
Castiel, oblivious to Dean’s complete meltdown, continues. “What I don’t understand, Dean, is… what’s your hunger?”
When Dean doesn’t respond, Cas takes that as an opportunity to explain further. “I mean, slowly but surely, everyone in this town has fallen prey to Famine, but so far,” He swivels his head to look at Dean and Dean toys with the idea of warning him how dangerous eye contact is right now.
But the want to look in Castiel’s radiant eyes outways the urge to warn.
Dean looks.
Dean grips his seat. Blood pumping, pumping, pumping.
“You seem unaffected.”
Dean wants to burst out laughing.
Dean wants to eat Castiel’s lips right off his face.
Cas keeps looking at him, slowly working his hundredth burger into his greedy mouth, trying to sate a never ending hunger.
It feels like a slap to the face when Dean understands Cas is waiting for a response. A response to why he’s seemingly unaffected to something he’s currently being very affected to.
“I, uh.” Is as far as he gets looking at Castiel before he has to rip his gaze away.
It genuinely feels as though he’s ripping his eyeballs away. He has to squeeze his eyes shut to manage be_cause they keep moving to keep Cas in their sight.
“Not hungry.” He tells the foggy windshield. “Don’t want a burger.” He doesn’t even know what he’s saying and maybe Cas doesn’t either. Maybe he will just leave him the fuck alone.
But he doesn’t want that. Not really.
What he really wants is for Cas to put down those fucking burgers and to pick up Dean.
“What do you want?” Castiel asks and Dean holds his breath, squeezing his eyes shut again.
“ Don’t . Know .” He grits out, despite his entire body singing that it does know. It really, really knows.
“I think you do,” Cas says, because he knows what Dean’s body wants. Maybe Cas should be his body instead, Dean thinks. Maybe Cas should possess Dean. Be inside every corner and crevice of Dean’s body. Fill him up completely. Until he’s bursting with it. With Castiel.
Dean shudders against the leather seat so violently, he can feel in his teeth .
“What do you want, Dean?” Cas asks like he already knows the answer. Dean knows he knows the answer.
He turns his head. It feels like a scalpel digging into his brain stem but he does it to look at Cas and it’s worth it.
“I know what I want.” Dean admits, all of it rushing out of his mouth in a breathless exhale, his palms sweating into the leather of Baby’s seat.
Cas nods, slow and approving, burger in hand.
“Very good,”
Dean is on him before he knows what he’s doing.
He notes somewhere in the back of his mind while he’s biting Cas’ lower lip that tastes tangy with grease and meat, that he’s gripping Castiel’s shoulders like a lifeline, one knee having been brought up on the seat when he flung himself at Cas.
Cas is kissing him back, which feels so good Dean could cry.
Cas is gripping at the base of his neck, pulling him in deeper and deeper.
Dean hoists himself up on his knee and crawls into Cas’ lap. Sitting down on strong thighs, knocking his burger out of his hand.
Dean cradles Cas’ jaw and tilts his head up, licking into, around and on his mouth. Cas’ grip on the back of Dean’s neck slides up into his hair, gripping painfully. Dean doesn't mind. He wants Cas to grip harder.
Apparently, Cas has other ideas and yanks Dean back, his mouth popping off Castiel’s with a wet sound that makes Dean’s eardrum hum pleasantly.
“Cas…what…” Dean barely manages to peel his eyelids open to watch Cas fumbling around the seat, collecting his burger that had fallen apart from Dean knocking it out of the way.
“My burger.” Cas says, almost mournful about it.
Dean stares at him incredulously. That's what he interrupted them for?
If Dean wasn’t painfully horny for him right now, he’d fucking kill him.
“Are you fucking kidding? I’m gonna fucking—” He cuts his own vague threat off himself by trying to go back in for another kiss. Cas and his stupid angel strength stop him though.
With a hand on Dean’s chest and their faces close enough to feel each other’s breath, Cas actually growls, “ My burger .”
Then—like he’s proving something by doing this—proceeds to shove half of it into his mouth. Chewing in pure ecstasy.
Dean cannot believe he’s honestly becoming homocidiously jealous because of a burger.
Dean’s right about to force Cas’ mouth open just to rip out the pulpy mush of a burger right out of his mouth when he gets an idea.
Somehow he manages to wait till Cas has swallowed the meat before he says it. He keeps himself busy, feeling the heat of Cas’ thighs bleed into Dean’s pants, mending with the heat of his ass.
“Got an idea,” He says as he grabs the half empty White Castle paper bag.
Cas fucking growls again and grabs Dean’s wrist. A darkness in his eyes that almost makes Dean hand the bag back over.
“I’m not gonna do anything with them, just trust me on this, yeah?”
Minutely, Cas loosens his grip on Dean’s wrist.
Dean leans back on Cas’ legs as he reaches into the bag, warm, moist air envelopes his hand.
He pulls out a neatly wrapped burger, feels the heft and weight in his palm, watching Cas’ pupils expand and his mouth water just by looking at it.
Torturously slow, Dean unwraps it. He can feel Cas getting tense under him with anticipation. Dean smirks.
Leaning back in, Dean hovers right above Castiel, he looks back up at him, so much want in his eyes it can’t just be towards the sandwich of plain medium well meat in his hand. Not unless Cas wants to fuck this burger, at least.
Which isn’t as unbelievable as it probably should be.
Dean—being a little shit—makes a show of smelling the burger. He lets his eyes roll into the back of his head, moaning a little.
And most of it’s for show. Some isn’t.
What? He likes burgers.
“Beautiful.” Castiel whispers, reverent about it. His breath puffing out into little clouds in the draft of the impala.
Dean’s eyes snap back open and his looks at Cas.
“The burger?” He asks.
“You.” Castiel clarifies.
“Oh.” Dean breathes and sways in Castiel’s lap, feeling a little lightheaded.
Distantly, he wonders if it’s the famine spell making him dizzy with emotion or because he’s barely had time to eat today because the only thing he’s hungry for is this Angel he’s got under him.
Well, hell, ring the dinner bell. Dean’s about to feast.
Dean tears off a bite-sized piece of burger with his hand and hovers it in front of Cas’ waiting mouth. Drool spills over his gaping, waiting mouth, trailing down his chin.
“Want it?” Dean asks, waving it back and forth, making sure to get the scent out. Like blood in the ocean, luring out a shark.
“Yeah,” Castiel rasps.
Dean hums, pleased and thumbs at the corner of Cas’ mouth. Castiel whimpers. Dean likes it.
“Get ready for it.” He tells him and Castiel’s eyes widen with excitement.
He slides his hand into Castiel’s hair, tugging on it, pulling back Castiel’s head. Just like in his fantasy from earlier.
“Slowly, got it?” He says, sitting tall, eyebrows raised.
Cas nods quickly, eyes pleading, mouth waiting.
Dean pushes the first bite into Castiel’s greedy mouth. Hoping to be the one able to sate his hunger.
Cas goes slow, just like he was told, Dean grins in approval.
Castiel looks up at Dean like he wants to call him beautiful again. Dean wonders if he’d say it again.
Dean touches his fingertips to where Cas’ cheek is bulging out. He feels the burger being worked into nothing but mush.
Dean wants to be the burger.
Wants to be inside Castiel’s mouth. Be turned to sludge and slide down Castiel’s throat. Live in his belly forever. Forever keeping him full.
Dean groans at the thought, out loud and shamelessly.
Cas watches him do it and chews with intent.
Dean makes sure to put his hand on Castiel’s throat when he looks ready to swallow. He feels the lump pass his fingers, he follows it down.
“More?” He asks, eyes trained on the bulge of Cas’ adam’s apple.
Castiel nods.
Dean tears off more, feeding Cas.
He keeps feeding the burger in Cas’ mouth and throat. He keeps envying the meat more and more.
Time turns slow as they work through the rest of the burgers. Real slow. Like honey. Like molasses. It drips out of Dean’s ears and panting mouth. It fills Castiel’s.
When Dean reaches into the bag and finds it empty, he feels genuinely disappointed.
He skirts his fingers along the bottom, collecting the grease that has leaked into the bag.
He pulls out his slightly damp, very slippery fingers out and brings them to Castiel’s lips.
He lets him lap at his fingers, occasionally pushing them into his mouth, feeling him suck on them.
While Castiel busies himself doing that, Dean lets go of his hair, trailing a hand down Cas’ chest all the way to the swell of his stuffed stomach.
Careful about it—so no burgers make any re-appearances—he pushes down on Castiel’s protruding belly.
Castiel groans around his fingers, Dean can’t tell if it’s from pain, discomfort or pleasure.
He feels around his stomach. He can feel the burgers sitting heavy in his gut. It pleases him more than he ever would expect it to.
He remembers his childhood, being hungry and empty for weeks at a time. So tired and weak that he could barely walk.
He remembers looking up at his Dad and thinking, begging ; Do something. Please.
But John had been so empty in so many ways for so long he must’ve not even noticed. Or maybe he just didn’t care.
He never wants that for Castiel.
Pumping his fingers in and out of Castiel’s mouth, he knows he’ll never let Cas go hungry.
“You’re getting real full. You feel good?” Dean asks, but he already knows the answer.
He knows the answer in the way Cas swallows down his fingers like they’re better than any burger he’s ever eaten. In the way he pushes out his belly into Dean’s hand. In the way he lets Dean do whatever he wants to him when they both know Cas could end him without breaking a sweat.
If angels even sweat.
Still, Castiel answers him by nodding, fingers in his mouth, drool down both sides of his mouth.
He pops open Cas’ button up with one hand, each button sliding out easily of their buttonholes. Getting distracted by reveling in the sight of the bare skin of Cas’ stretched, stuffed belly.
Then, there’s a pinch on the soft underside of his index finger. Dean barely notices at first, biting his lips at the miles and miles of bare skin that he wants to lick and nibble at. Cas has nipples . They’re brown and pointy from the cold. He wants them in his mouth.
But the pinch gets more pronounced. More so that he actually rips his gaze away from Cas’ delectable chest to stare up at him. The pinch then slices up his finger and he gasps.
When he pulls out his fingers, he’s bleeding.
Really, it’s just a scratch, all the way up his finger.
It’s bleeding quite a bit though. Dean doesn’t think Cas meant to do it, he probably scraped him on his tooth by accident.
But Cas stares right at him, not a hint of apology or sheepishness in his gaze.
Only hunger. Only want.
Dean watches as long, tan fingers wrap around his wrist.
Keeping eye contact, Cas brings his hand to his mouth, eyes on the blood trailing down his palm, and licks it clean.
Cas moans. Loud and long, and kitten licks his red stained skin again.
“Cas…” Dean whispers, awed and impossibly turned on.
He lets the tip of his tongue rest on the center of his palm, trailing it all the way up and over his finger, along his slit, collecting the red on his tongue.
The touch is almost ticklish, like Cas is pacing himself.
He pulls his tongue back into his mouth. Closing his eyes, swallowing, sighing in ecstasy.
Dean’s mouth is half open, his eyes are wide and he pushes his bloody finger all the way into Cas’ mouth.
Cas moans again, louder even with Dean’s finger muffling him.
He laps at Dean’s finger, sucking like Dean’s flesh is the fruit of temptation itself.
He looks so much hungrier than he did eating White Castle. If you could see him, sucking on Dean’s fingers, drinking his blood, you would think he hadn’t eaten in weeks.
But that’s not it. Cas isn’t just hungry. He’s hungry for Dean.
He’s insatiable for him.
But Dean—Dean has another idea.
He feeds all his fingers back in Cas’ mouth, one by one, even his thumb. Cas opens easily.
He slides his hand further down—albeit a bit harsher than he meant.
Cas chokes and gags but Dean keeps going. Cooing and shushing Cas, encouraging him to open up.
He reaches his hand down Cas’ throat. He can feel his hand stretching the fleshy, slimy muscle of his esophagus. Cas is even warmer on the inside.
It’ll be so good to be inside him.
As he pulls his spit slicked wrist out, a string of spit connects his limb to Cas’ mouth. Cas grabs him by the elbow, holding his arm in place as he yanks his sleeve down, exposing naked skin and licks all the way up his forearm, savoring how he tastes.
His skin prickles. The sudden bite of the chill to his naked arm is immediately soothed over by the warmth of Castiel’s tongue as he trails his all the way up to the hinge of his wrist.
Suddenly, the heat of Castiel’s tongue is gone and there’s a sharp sting in the fattiest part of his forearm.
He sucks in a hiss as he watches his skin being torn from his body. Blood oozes down to his elbow as his flesh moves to its rightful place in Cas’ warm, wet mouth.
Dean lets out a long suffering sighing that feels like he’s been holding it in for years. He watches the fleshy lump slide down Cas’ throat, making his Adam’s apple bob.
It feels so good to be inside Cas. He can feel himself start to feel full finally as Cas gets full on him.
He wants him to take all of him.
“How do I taste?” He asks with genuine morbid curiosity.
“Better than White Castle,” Blood dribbles down his chin. “Better than the body and blood of Christ.” He ducks his head, tongue darting out, licking a strip of Dean’s exposed tissue.
Dean gasps at the new sensation.
“Keep—” He struggles for breath, Cas’ tongue poking and prodding and licking around his torn flesh. “Keep goin’. ‘Till you’re full.”
Cas pulls back with wide, disbelieving eyes. Like he’s just been offered the lottery and he can’t believe it. “Dean, are you sure?”
“Pretty sure I've never been more sure of anything my entire life.” Dean admits, unable to feel sheepish or even a little ashamed anymore. Cas did just eat a part of him, after all. “I wanna be inside you. All the way inside.” He tells him. “This body Cas, it’s yours. Tear into it, chew it, it’s all fucking yours. Eat it and you’ll always have me with you.” He feels Cas’ nails dig into his arm as Castiel lets out a strangled breath.
“C’mon. C’mon, Cas. Castiel.” Dean moves his hand from his hair to cup his cheek.
Castiel nods in his palm and trails his fingers up Dean’s arm, leaving goosebumps to rise in his wake.
His long fingers wrap around Dean’s wrist and anticipation is fucking torture. Dean wants Cas and he wants him now .
But before Dean can even open his mouth to complain or commit fucking homocide, Cas is leading Dean’s hand past his wet lips, swallowing his fingers back in.
Dean’s jaw drops, and revels in pure bliss. Cas should just swallow him whole. He should cut him up real slow and swallow each piece of Dean while making Dean watch until every bit is sitting heavy inside of Cas’ gut.
There's drool running down Dean’s fingers and Cas’ chin, Dean wants to see it run red with his blood.
Cas’s lips are hungrily wrapped around his first three fingers, his tongue swirling around his index. Like a cat playing with a mouse. Getting ready to pounce.
Dean thrusts insistently into Cas’s mouth and barely refrains from whimpering when Cas only continues to lap at his finger.
He doesn’t even know exactly what he wants. He just knows he wants blood. He wants Cas swallowing him down, deep and full. He wants Cas to be full.
Full of Dean.
Dean’s prays are fucking answered when there’s that sweet sharp sting of pressure from Cas’ teeth on the base of Dean’s index finger.
Dean’s free hand flies from Cas’ face to grasp at Cas’ shoulder as the pressure increases and he can feel the sharp white teeth slice into his soft skin.
Finally, finally blood starts leaking out of Cas’ mouth. But no, Dean doesn't want that. He wants it in Cas’ mouth, down his throat.
Hurriedly, he collects the spilt blood up with his neglected thumb and pushes it back, past Cas’ pinkened lips.
Something snaps.
Something snaps off .
Dean whimpers a pathetic sound.
“Cas…” He croaks and pulls his hand out. Where his index finger should be is now nothing but a bloody stump, like a cut down tree. It’s ridiculously satisfying. “Fuck.”
When he manages to tear his eyes away from his own hand, that’s now down one finger he sees Cas, head thrown back like he’s getting blown, intently chewing on Dean’s decapitated finger.
Dean sits taller on his thighs to look down at him.
Cas looks like a goddamn work of art. Scratch that, he is a damn work of art.
Dean wants to get him painted. In oils and shit—real prettily. ‘Cause fuck , Cas is pretty.
His eyes are closed in what can only be ecstacy caused by no more than Dean’s detached finger inside of him.
Dark eyelashes tickling his pale skin, the colors contrasting entirely perfectly. His cheekbones stand out stunningly in the faint yellow light of the street lamps nearby and his lips stretch with every chew.
“You’re damn beautiful, Cas.” Dean says because it’s true. And shame just isn’t real anymore. Not for Dean.
Cas opens his eyes and—and he—
Swallows. He swallows Dean. Bone and skin and blood.
Dean’s brain whites out for a minute.
When he comes to, he practically slams onto Cas’ face, mouth first.
Their noses bump and squish against each other, but Dean rather them break than unattach himself for one fucking second because Cas just ate his finger and Dean feels like he’s on fire.
He gets both hands around the back of Cas’ head, the newly gapped space between his middle finger and thumb leaks, probably making a mess of the back of Cas’ head. Dean doesn’t have time to pay attention to that while he’s biting mean, wet kisses onto Cas’ mouth.
Cas has both hands on Dean, never staying in one place too long, eager to explore and feel.
Dean thinks maybe he should take off his shirt, give him more to feel, more to bite and eat but he doesn’t have it in him to separate from Cas.
Abruptly, Cas is ripping himself away from him, and then attacking, teeth first into Dean’s cheek, biting in harshly. There’s the sound of ripping flesh.
Dean moans loud and open mouthed.
When Cas pulls back a tiny bit, Dean can see his cheek hanging out of his mouth a bit. The skin looks chewy and sticky and Dean kind of wants a taste.
“And you’re good—beautiful and good ,” Cas says, his mouth opening as he chews, revealing Dean’s ground up flesh in the pocket of Cas’ cheek. It should probably make Dean feel disgusted, at least a little bit disturbed. Instead, it just makes him want to press his hand against the front of his jeans.
He can feel the hole Cas left in his face. It’s like when someone punches you, and it’s like you can still feel their fist after, like it’s imprinted on your face. Except Cas actually left an imprint. And Dean feels every inch—or lack thereof.
Cas presses their foreheads together , “I don’t eat the face off of just anyone.” He whispers and Dean chokes out a laugh.
Castiel’s fingers trace the outline of the wound, dipping in and pulling at the sides, making Dean gasp quietly.
“Remarkable.” Castiel whispers.
“Well, don’t stop while you're ahead.” He pants into Castiel’s mouth.
“Don’t insult me.” He snarls, sinking his teeth into Dean’s chin.
Dean and Castiel will never find out that Sam is back at the hotel, at this very moment, feasting on the throats of demons just as Sam will never find out Castiel is feasting on his brother.
Desire is a careful walk across a tightrope. All you need is a push to fall off the edge—but who cares about falling when it feels like flying?
Everyone has their hunger. John was hungry for revenge, Mary for freedom from her family and Dean, Sam and Cas—well, you know.
Maybe they never stood a chance balancing on that tightrope.
Famine wins and Dean is finally warm, Castiel is finally full, Sam is high.
And finally, their hunger is sated.