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janie_tangerineTitle: undisclosed desires
Rating: hard PG13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Words: 1116
Summary: At the beginning, Dean just pegged it for one of those weird Cas things that remind him of that little, insignificant fact that Cas used to be an angel of the Lord, once upon a time.
Spoilers: up until 5x18, then goes AU.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
emerald_embers for the five acts meme; the prompt was foot fetish. Coda to 5x18, too, thoroughly AU at this point.
At the beginning, Dean just pegged it for one of those weird Cas things that remind him of that little, insignificant fact that Cas used to be an angel of the Lord, once upon a time. Or well, he still is, but he wasn’t on his way to falling back then.
Or well, Dean might not exactly be your regular theology expert, but Bibles are the most common books to find in motels and he’s not that clueless not to know what washing someone’s feet means in religious language.
So after Dean came back to sanity and realized that:
a) wanting to say yes had been a bad idea;
b) he really hadn’t realized how much Cas was putting on the line for him;
c) he had totally deserved that beating,
he was kind of surprised that Cas had ended up apologizing himself and saying that he had been too harsh and anyway that Dean hadn’t deserved that whole speech at the warehouse. (Dean disagreed: he kind of did, if you ask him, but Cas wasn’t going to hear otherwise.)
“Dean, let me apologize,” he has said, his voice low in his throat, and Dean had said yes figuring that he’d get some long speech.
It had ended up with Cas actually fucking washing his feet. And not a quick job; he had actually found a basin, filled it up with warm water and soap and dragged Dean to the motel’s bathroom, where he proceeded to his task after getting him to sit on a chair.
Now, Dean doesn’t think that his feet are his finest point; apart from the fact that they are his feet, he doesn’t particularly take care of them, he runs and walks and stands on them a lot, he usually doesn’t care about chipping nails neatly and has calluses that at times bleed and others that are such a part of the anatomy, by now, that they’ll stay where they are until he dies. So, no, while they aren’t objectively ugly (hey, he still has all his toes and they aren’t scarred or anything, which in his line of business means being fucking good), his feet aren’t really the part of his body that he would show out to anyone.
So it felt just weird when Cas’ long, soft, pale fingers that once upon a time belonged to Jimmy Novak (and poor Jimmy, his soul may rest in peace, was never one who had a reason to ruin his hands) touched the rough skin under his soles while rinsing it with soap. Cas had worked each foot separately then, and he had done a pretty fucking thorough job of it; he had washed away earth that had gotten into Dean’s fucking socks while digging up a grave from beneath his toes, from between his toes, had carefully even used some kind of rough sponge to clean away dead skin, and the water was so warm and the action so pleasant that Dean had kind of felt great, after that.
So, apology accepted and all, except that then Cas had told him that he had found out that humbling himself before someone else had been a precious experience and that he had understood a bunch of things, and to cut it short, he wanted to fucking do it again.
And Dean let him. Each night, after Sam went to sleep, for about a week. And in the last three days, Cas had actually come close to actually give his soles a goddamn massage, and well, you always learn something. In this case, that taking care of your feet (or letting someone else do it for you) helps your stress levels and makes you feel fucking good.
Then things changed. From the second when Cas, as he was drying Dean’s left foot, suddenly bent forward and kissed his ankle.
Now, as weird as it is, every night (when they can, but it’s almost always, Apocalypse looming or not), Dean reaches Cas in whatever bathroom they have on disposal. He lets him unlace his boots and put them out of the door, he lets him peel away his socks and put them next to the shoes. Then Cas lowers both of Dean’s feet in that warm water and does the thorough washing thing again (and damn, since he started, Dean thinks that his feet totally regained some sensitivity; or otherwise, he wouldn’t shiver just from the way Cas’ fingers brush on his skin below the ankle). But after he’s done and said feet are actually dry, he’ll lower his head again and Dean will only see dark hair as lips press against his ankle first and the surface of one of his feet later. He’ll bite on his lip in order not to moan where Cas’ tongue actually licks where his lips had trailed before, and he’ll feel it all the way to his groin when Cas actually kisses his toes and then goes back up towards his ankle again before sucking just slightly on the skin just above his heel before passing on to the other foot and letting the first rest back in warm water. He’ll mirror all his actions on the second one before actually washing everything all over again, still massaging everywhere he can and, once in a while, leaning forward to press a small kiss on the side of Dean’s knee.
By the time Cas is done and Dean steps on the motel’s carpet, his feet clean and bare and said carpet a lot rougher than Cas’ fingers possibly could ever be, he’s hard and not exactly able to control it, but then again Cas is pretty much always, too, and well, they’re in the bathroom and there’s a shower, and Jesus, sometimes Dean thinks parting his lips as Dean jerks him off while water falls all over them is the fucking most glorious thing he has ever seen.
Castiel is of the same opinion, but regarding Dean’s face when he starts fucking kissing his feet.
Dean has an idea that this won’t make any kind of Bible. (He’ll personally kill Chuck if he dares putting it in his fucking Gospels.)
But while it still feels somewhat uncomfortable because in his head there will always be something wrong about Cas on his knees in front of him (it really should be the contrary), it makes him feel in a way someone who should be dead inside never could, and he’s secretly grateful to Cas for at least proving him that.
If the kinky feathered bastard (because that’s what Cas fucking is) gets totally a kick out of this, well, Dean won’t be the one to stop him anytime soon.
End.
Rating: hard PG13
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Words: 1116
Summary: At the beginning, Dean just pegged it for one of those weird Cas things that remind him of that little, insignificant fact that Cas used to be an angel of the Lord, once upon a time.
Spoilers: up until 5x18, then goes AU.
Disclaimer: SPN isn't mine, like it's news whatsoever.
A/N: originally written for
emerald_embers for the five acts meme; the prompt was foot fetish. Coda to 5x18, too, thoroughly AU at this point.At the beginning, Dean just pegged it for one of those weird Cas things that remind him of that little, insignificant fact that Cas used to be an angel of the Lord, once upon a time. Or well, he still is, but he wasn’t on his way to falling back then.
Or well, Dean might not exactly be your regular theology expert, but Bibles are the most common books to find in motels and he’s not that clueless not to know what washing someone’s feet means in religious language.
So after Dean came back to sanity and realized that:
a) wanting to say yes had been a bad idea;
b) he really hadn’t realized how much Cas was putting on the line for him;
c) he had totally deserved that beating,
he was kind of surprised that Cas had ended up apologizing himself and saying that he had been too harsh and anyway that Dean hadn’t deserved that whole speech at the warehouse. (Dean disagreed: he kind of did, if you ask him, but Cas wasn’t going to hear otherwise.)
“Dean, let me apologize,” he has said, his voice low in his throat, and Dean had said yes figuring that he’d get some long speech.
It had ended up with Cas actually fucking washing his feet. And not a quick job; he had actually found a basin, filled it up with warm water and soap and dragged Dean to the motel’s bathroom, where he proceeded to his task after getting him to sit on a chair.
Now, Dean doesn’t think that his feet are his finest point; apart from the fact that they are his feet, he doesn’t particularly take care of them, he runs and walks and stands on them a lot, he usually doesn’t care about chipping nails neatly and has calluses that at times bleed and others that are such a part of the anatomy, by now, that they’ll stay where they are until he dies. So, no, while they aren’t objectively ugly (hey, he still has all his toes and they aren’t scarred or anything, which in his line of business means being fucking good), his feet aren’t really the part of his body that he would show out to anyone.
So it felt just weird when Cas’ long, soft, pale fingers that once upon a time belonged to Jimmy Novak (and poor Jimmy, his soul may rest in peace, was never one who had a reason to ruin his hands) touched the rough skin under his soles while rinsing it with soap. Cas had worked each foot separately then, and he had done a pretty fucking thorough job of it; he had washed away earth that had gotten into Dean’s fucking socks while digging up a grave from beneath his toes, from between his toes, had carefully even used some kind of rough sponge to clean away dead skin, and the water was so warm and the action so pleasant that Dean had kind of felt great, after that.
So, apology accepted and all, except that then Cas had told him that he had found out that humbling himself before someone else had been a precious experience and that he had understood a bunch of things, and to cut it short, he wanted to fucking do it again.
And Dean let him. Each night, after Sam went to sleep, for about a week. And in the last three days, Cas had actually come close to actually give his soles a goddamn massage, and well, you always learn something. In this case, that taking care of your feet (or letting someone else do it for you) helps your stress levels and makes you feel fucking good.
Then things changed. From the second when Cas, as he was drying Dean’s left foot, suddenly bent forward and kissed his ankle.
Now, as weird as it is, every night (when they can, but it’s almost always, Apocalypse looming or not), Dean reaches Cas in whatever bathroom they have on disposal. He lets him unlace his boots and put them out of the door, he lets him peel away his socks and put them next to the shoes. Then Cas lowers both of Dean’s feet in that warm water and does the thorough washing thing again (and damn, since he started, Dean thinks that his feet totally regained some sensitivity; or otherwise, he wouldn’t shiver just from the way Cas’ fingers brush on his skin below the ankle). But after he’s done and said feet are actually dry, he’ll lower his head again and Dean will only see dark hair as lips press against his ankle first and the surface of one of his feet later. He’ll bite on his lip in order not to moan where Cas’ tongue actually licks where his lips had trailed before, and he’ll feel it all the way to his groin when Cas actually kisses his toes and then goes back up towards his ankle again before sucking just slightly on the skin just above his heel before passing on to the other foot and letting the first rest back in warm water. He’ll mirror all his actions on the second one before actually washing everything all over again, still massaging everywhere he can and, once in a while, leaning forward to press a small kiss on the side of Dean’s knee.
By the time Cas is done and Dean steps on the motel’s carpet, his feet clean and bare and said carpet a lot rougher than Cas’ fingers possibly could ever be, he’s hard and not exactly able to control it, but then again Cas is pretty much always, too, and well, they’re in the bathroom and there’s a shower, and Jesus, sometimes Dean thinks parting his lips as Dean jerks him off while water falls all over them is the fucking most glorious thing he has ever seen.
Castiel is of the same opinion, but regarding Dean’s face when he starts fucking kissing his feet.
Dean has an idea that this won’t make any kind of Bible. (He’ll personally kill Chuck if he dares putting it in his fucking Gospels.)
But while it still feels somewhat uncomfortable because in his head there will always be something wrong about Cas on his knees in front of him (it really should be the contrary), it makes him feel in a way someone who should be dead inside never could, and he’s secretly grateful to Cas for at least proving him that.
If the kinky feathered bastard (because that’s what Cas fucking is) gets totally a kick out of this, well, Dean won’t be the one to stop him anytime soon.
End.
