Author: Dire Banshee
Warnings: slash, bestiality (yes another one)
Rating: hard R 'cause, yeah
Summary: Yep, it's me again with another offering inspired by the spnkink_meme. Seriously, that place is evil (but in a good way)
My response to this prompt on spnkink_meme:
Most werewolves look mostly human, with animal minds... After Dean is infected, Dean turns into an anatomically correct, massive wolf, but he's mentally still Dean, and he hate's the "monster" he turns into, and spends the night of the full moon sulking every month. Castiel is in love with Dean, no matter what form he takes, and he's desperate to make Dean understand. Desperate enough to let Dean take his virginity in wolf form. Dean is hesitant at first, but eventually agrees to it. In the end, they both enjoy it.
Bonus points if Wolf!Dean makes it as gentle and tender as he can. (Nuzzling, licking, etc.)
I would not object to Sam being involved as well, but it isn't necessary.
“He doesn’t kiss me anymore,” Castiel confided to Sam one day.
The hunter looked up from the large tome in front of him and glanced over at the angel. He was looking out the window and Sam knew, without looking, that his gaze was trained on the figure working beneath the hood of the Impala.
“He barely touches me,” Cas continued miserably, hurt and confusion plain on his face.
Sam didn’t have to ask what the angel was talking about. As sneaky as Dean liked to think he was Sam probably would’ve figured it out even if the three of them didn’t spend nearly every waking hour together. But, that being the case, he’d seen the looks, the unnecessary brushes of hands and the touches that lingered, the soft, gentle kisses when Dean thought Sam’s attention was focused elsewhere, but seeing as how Sam was neither blind nor stupid it hadn’t taken him long to work out that his brother was wooing his angel. Not that Dean would ever admit to it and, frankly, Sam thought it was cute, though he’d never tell Dean that. He liked his balls where they were, thank you very much, but he felt bad for Castiel.
Dean had never been one to advertise his feelings much but ever since their last hunt he’d closed down completely, shut them all out. Not even Bobby at his gruffest could get much of a rise out of Dean now. He spent most of his time either buried under a car or staring off into space; he barely talked, hardly slept… Sam, Castiel, and Bobby had all tried to draw him out of his funk, but Dean was nothing if not single-minded.
Sam still wasn’t sure what had happened on their last hunt some three months ago. They’d been investigating a series of animal deaths; Sam had thought maybe witches, Dean had voted for a black dog. Cas had been the one to point out how the killings always happened during the full moon but neither of the Winchesters had paid much mind. Everyone knew that werewolves only went after humans… But, as it turned out, there was more than one species of werewolf, a fact that Castiel apparently knew but Sam only discovered after he and the angel had gotten separated from Dean, a fact that Dean had found out between shooting the huge wolf and being attacked by its enraged mate. By the time the two of them had reached Dean the hunter had managed to kill the second wolf but not before it had torn into his arms with fangs and claws. Dean had looked up at them with wide green eyes, unable to hide the absolute terror in their depths as the two dead wolves slowly reverted back to their human forms.
Ignoring the blaring neon sign the bites on Dean represented Sam and Castiel had gotten him patched up and taken him to Bobby’s. Sam had buried himself in Bobby’s extensive collection while Dean had been nearly the same… until the night of his first full moon. As long as he lived Sam would never forget the sight of his brother’s body bending and twisting and transforming into the biggest wolf any of them had ever seen. According to Castiel, this particular species of werewolf retained their human minds during the moon and Sam and Bobby had to believe him seeing as how the Dean/wolf had let out a heart wrenching sound and spent the entire night curled in a corner, staring at nothing. The next day, Dean stopped talking. The next full moon was spent out in Bobby’s junkyard and the one after that, the time in between spent outside, alone.
Sam sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face as he thought over what he could possibly tell the angel.
“You’re in love with him,” he settled on and Castiel nodded.
“Does he know?”
Castiel turned to look at him then and Sam fought not to squirm under the scrutiny of those blue eyes. Cas didn’t say anything though, just tilted his head in a familiar expression of confusion.
“Look,” Sam continued. “I know you guys have been, like, together and stuff but Dean, he’s… well, he’s hard headed. The obvious doesn’t always get through to him.”
“Meaning?” the angel prompted.
“I know how he thinks. He thinks he’s a monster, never mind that he’s in complete control at all times. You need to find a way to convince him that he’s not.”
Castiel turned back to looking out the window, letting silence settle on the room once more.
“He loves you,” Sam said softly.
Castiel’s gaze drifted to Sam again, studying the younger hunter as he lost himself in thought, barely noticing as Sam squirmed uncomfortably under the angel’s stare and went back to his book. Dean may not always listen to words or understand actions but there was one thing in which he seemed to place a great deal of significance. Castiel nodded to himself as the thought fully formed in his mind.
“Sam,” he said. “I need your help.”
The full moon shone down on the rusted heaps that took up most of the space on Bobby’s property. Castiel moved soundlessly among them, seeking out the place Dean had chosen for his ‘time of the month’ as he’d jokingly called it, when he still joked. The angel had borrowed some of the hunter’s clothing; a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and an old black tee shirt with the faded image of lips and tongue printed on the front. The material was soft against his skin and still smelled slightly of Dean despite coming almost directly from the dryer. He was barefoot despite Bobby’s grumbled warnings of tetanus and the dangers of wandering around a junkyard with anything less than a sturdy pair of boots. He had assured the man that he wasn’t susceptible to such things as disease and received a grumbled, “Idjit angel” as a reply. Castiel had felt an unexpected rush of warmth at that. Bobby’s tone was nearly the same as when he chastised Sam and Dean, and Castiel had been around them all enough in the past year and three months to recognize the man’s own brand of affection when it was given. Bobby approved of him, and it made his heart swell with happiness. Now, he needed only to convince Dean of his worth once more and things would be perfect. Or, as perfect as things could get on this plane, that is.
Castiel found Dean sprawled out on his side in the bed of a rusted out pick-up truck, pale fur nearly glowing in the moon light. His ears twitched as he picked up Castiel’s soft foot steps but otherwise remained as he was, staring off at nothing.
“Hello, Dean,” the angel greeted.
Dean’s top ear swiveled back toward Castiel at the sound of his voice, the only indication he’d heard him, and Castiel sighed. This was going to be harder than he’d thought but he had long since grown accustomed to the stubbornness that was Dean Winchester and sat down by the huge wolf. Reaching out, he laid his hand on Dean’s shoulder. Over the white fur there that vaguely resembled the handprint that graced his flesh in human form. Dean tensed under Castiel’s touch but didn’t move away and the angel took it as a good sign.
“Will you come inside, Dean?” he asked quietly. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight.”
Dean huffed out a sigh but otherwise remained as he was.
“Bobby is cooking steak,” Castiel continued, hoping Dean’s stomach might overcome his stubborn streak. “And Sam would like to see you. We all would. Remaining by yourself isn’t good for you, Dean.”
The wolf let out another sigh, this one clearly irritated, and scrambled out from under Castiel’s touch. He jumped down to the ground and padded over to a crumpled pile of metal that used to be a Toyota and dropped to the ground in a dejected heap. Undeterred, Castiel followed after Dean, settling on the ground beside him.
“We’re worried about you, Dean,” he said, earnest blue eyes meeting green. Dean turned his head away. Castiel grit his teeth and moved into Dean’s line of sight.
“I’m not going to go away. Not unless you come with me.”
Dean looked away again and Castiel grabbed the ruff of fur around his neck, tired of being ignored.
“Stop this!” he demanded, staring into Dean’s eyes. “Why do you do this to yourself? You are no longer human but that does not make you evil! You are not a monster, Dean, no more than I am.”
Dean lowered his eyes with a low whine.
“You are still Dean Winchester,” Castiel continued. “And I still love you, no matter your form.”
Dean shook his head, as much in denial as trying to dislodge the angel’s grip, but Castiel held him effortlessly, gripping the wolf’s ruff and staring intently into its eyes. Those green eyes were still human, still Dean, the only part of the hunter that didn’t change with the rising of the moon.
“I love you, Dean,” Castiel said.
Dean dropped his eyes and tried to turn away again, and again, Castiel’s grip on his fur wouldn’t allow it.
“I love you,” he repeated fiercely. “And I want to prove it.”
He could read the confusion in Dean’s eyes and drew away far enough to grip the hem of his borrowed shirt and lift it over his head. Castiel had discarded the shirt on the ground and dropped his hands to the fastenings of his jeans before Dean’s confusion cleared. The big wolf’s eyes went comically wide and he scrambled back from the angel so fast his feet tangled together and he wound up on his side in the dirt. Castiel lowered his gaze, blinking against suddenly blurring vision as a strange and unpleasant feeling settled in his chest, constricting his throat and squeezing his heart.
“You used to want me, Dean,” he said softly and looked up. “I thought you’d want me still but perhaps I was wrong.”
He closed his stinging eyes and reached blindly for his shirt as he felt a wet warmth fall down his cheeks. These were tears, he realized, and raised a hand to wipe them away when there was hot breath on his face, followed by a smooth tongue gently licking the salt from his skin. Castiel drew back and looked at Dean. Dean whined miserably, head ducked down, and leaned into him. Castiel wrapped his arms around the wolf, Dean’s fur was soft and warm against his bare flesh, his body solid and heavy as he leaned against the angel. They stayed like that for a stretch of time, Dean wrapped in Castiel’s arms, Cas’ fingers gently stroking through his fur or playing absently with his silky ears. Dean sighed in pleasure, his tail occasionally sweeping from side to side until he realized what he was doing and regained control of the unruly appendage only to have it start up again seconds later as Cas stroked him.
The angel knew he’d gotten through to Dean and was wondering if he could get him to spend the rest of the night in the house when a cool, wet nose trailed up the side of his neck followed by a warm swipe of tongue along his jaw. Dean pulled away and glanced at Castiel’s face for a second before looking away, then glanced back, gauging his reaction. Cas could read the question in Dean’s eyes and buried his fingers in Dean’s ruff again, urging the hunter to look at him.
“I haven’t changed my mind, Dean,” he said.
Dean let out another low whine then ducked his head and flicked a quick lick over Castiel’s left nipple. Cas shivered at the feelings the action produced and Dean again drew back quickly, head down, eyes rolled up to the angel’s face, asking. ‘Is this okay? Are you sure?’
Castiel drew Dean into his arms, resting their foreheads together briefly, then pressed a chaste kiss to Dean’s snout and stood, quickly shedding his jeans before dropping to his knees in the dirt. He reached for Dean as the wolf closed the gap between them, cold nose and hot breath and a warm, wet tongue trailing down Castiel’s torso, making the angel’s skin break out in goosebumps as Dean made his way to Cas’ slowly hardening dick. He breathed a hot breath over the flesh before curling his tongue around it, licking from base to tip. Castiel moaned softly, gripping Dean’s ruff and throwing his head back in pleasure.
“Dean,” he groaned, voice thick and eyes dark with lust when Dean raised his head to look at his face. Dean gave him a wolfish grin, nuzzling against Castiel’s shoulder for a moment, then pulled away.
The wolf glanced back at the question, let out a soft whuff of sound, then leaped into the bed of the truck Castiel had first found him in. He reappeared seconds later with a blanket clenched in his jaws. Dean hopped down and trotted over to Castiel, tail held high and wagging slightly, then dropped the blanket in front of the angel. He grabbed a corner with his teeth and began trying to spread it out over the ground. Castiel smiled at the gesture and helped Dean finish opening the blanket before settling in the middle on his knees. The angel moved to his hands and knees and looked at the wolf.
Dean watched him with dark eyes for several heartbeats before covering the small distance between them then a long wet tongue was laving over Castiel’s face. When he chanced to open one eye he found Dean watching him with sparkling eyes and got the distinct impression that the hunter was laughing at him. Castiel wiped the slobber off of his face as Dean butted his head against the angel’s shoulder, urging him up off his hands, then planted his huge front paws on his shoulders and pushed Castiel onto his back. Dean licked and nuzzled his way down Castiel’s torso as the angel arched and writhed beneath him, clinging to his fur and gasping his name, before giving his erection several long licks then nosed Cas’ legs apart and settled in between. He jerked his head back and stared at Castiel with surprised eyes when he found the angel already slick and loose.
“Sam told me what to do,” Castiel explained and Dean snorted in what could only be amusement. The younger Winchester’s face had turned an alarming shade of red as he’d explained to the angel exactly what he had to do with the contense of the tube he’d handed over.
Dean backed up and watched his angel for a minute, uncertainty returning to his eyes, and Castiel rose up on his knees again, getting eye level with the hunter. He ran a hand over Dean’s head, stroking one ear affectionately.
“I’m ready, Dean,” he said, voice deeper than usual.
Dean gave his hand one more lick then moved ‘round behind him. Dean’s soft fur tickled along Castiel’s bare skin as the massive wolf settled above him, forelegs gripping around his waist. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as Dean’s slick member brushed against him and Castiel spread his legs a little wider; felt a wet kiss of tongue between his shoulder blades, then Dean was pressing inside, slowly, gently but he was big, bigger than the two fingers Castiel had worked inside himself earlier and he sucked in a quick breath. Dean must have felt him tense because he paused, the tip of him barely past the first ring of muscle, and whined questioningly at the angel. Castiel took several deep breaths then lowered his upper body to the ground; his forehead pillowed against his arms, and forced himself to relax. Dean shifted at the change in position, forelegs gripping Castiel tighter and sliding deeper without meaning to. Castiel gasped at the sensation and wet his lips.
“I’m fine, Dean,” he assured between pants. “Please.”
He eased back slowly, taking Dean in deeper. The wolf shifted its weight as he moved, attempting to keep his balance, then pushed forward until he was buried completely inside Castiel. They were both still for a long moment after as Castiel adjusted to the feel of Dean inside him and Dean growled softly and licked at his neck and shoulders.
Cas could feel the tension in the big body behind him as his body relaxed and the slight burn of stretched virgin muscle eased. Slowly, he rocked forward, gasping at the feeling of Dean sliding out of him, then pushed back, taking him in again. He shivered at the new sensations, letting out a soft “oh” of pleasure. Dean let out a sort of growling whine as Cas raised his upper body again and clenched around the cock inside of him. Dean jerked against him and a shiver rolled its way up the angel’s spine.
“Please, Dean,” he whispered. “Move, I’m ready.”
Then it was Castiel’s turn to shift his weight and brace against the blanket as Dean’s forelegs tightened against his hips, the hunter drawing back then thrusting forward in a quick, jerking rhythm that forced grunts and breathy “oh’s” from Castiel’s throat with every thrust. Castiel felt the now familiar pressure building inside of him, sparking higher every time Dean drove into him, and he reached a hand down to grip himself tight, allowing the thrusts of Dean’s body into him work his dick through the tunnel of his fist. He arched beneath the huge wolf, panting Dean’s name as the hunter squeezed his hips with his legs and panted hot breaths on the back of his neck, his every thrust punctuated by a cry from the angel.
“Oh – oh – ah! Dean!” he cried out as his fist closed almost painfully and his balls drew up, spilling white hot pleasure through his veins and thick white fluid onto the old blanket.
Dean growled deep in his chest, the vibrations traveling into Castiel as his body trembled in the aftermath, Dean’s claws dragging across the soft skin of his thighs and leaving raised red lines that Cas barely felt, then Dean froze and Castiel felt the knot slip inside him, locking them together as Dean came, the hot fluid bathing Castiel’s insides in a seemingly never ending stream.
Dean all but collapsed against Castiel’s back, settling nearly all his weight on the angel as he stretched out against him, tongue flicking out to lave Cas’ neck. Castiel smiled at the affectionate gesture and allowed his shaking arms to lower his shoulders to the ground, knowing, again from Sam’s research, that he and Dean would be tied together for a little while longer. After several seconds of laying in silence he felt Dean raise up and begin to back away. Castiel quickly gripped one of his forelegs.
Dean froze above him.
“Your knot is still inside me,” he explained. “We have to wait for it to shrink first.”
Dean was very still above him and Castiel could almost hear the hunter thinking, then his weight and warmth settled against Castiel’s back again as Dean laid full length above the angel, laying his head on Cas’ shoulder, forelegs bracketing his shoulders. Castiel gently stroked the back of one paw.
“Thank you, Dean.”
Dean raised his head and cocked it to one side, questioning.
“For trusting me,” the angel continued. “For letting me love you.”
Dean looked embarrassed for a moment, which is a neat trick for a wolf, then lowered his head again and huffed out a breath of agreement. Castiel smiled and relaxed into the warmth of Dean’s fur.
He woke early the next morning with Dean’s very human body spooned up behind him, one leg threaded between his own, his ‘morning wood’, as Dean called it, hard and insistent against his lower back. He shivered in the cool morning air and pressed closer to the hunter at his back as he felt Dean stir.
“Man,” Dean muttered sleepily. “You are one kinky angel.”
“Well,” Cas replied, turning to gaze at the waking man. “You are one stubborn human. It was the only way I could think of to prove that nothing had changed.”
Dean smirked even as the tips of his ears turned red in embarrassment.
“But still,” he said. “Bestiality? That’s pretty naughty.”
It was Castiel’s turn to blush.
“You are still Dean Winchester,” he murmured. “No matter your form.”
“Maybe,” Dean replied as he threaded his fingers through Cas’ sleep tousled hair. “But this form’s so much better. Opposable thumbs.”
Then he claimed Castiel’s lips in a hungry kiss.
Several Months Later
Sam and Castiel lagged behind as Dean, in wolf form, tore off after the fleeing chupacabra. The little goat sucker was fast but Dean was faster and would soon have it run to ground. Sam glanced over at the angel.
“I don’t know how you did it, man,” Sam told him then gave him a sharp look, “and I really, really don’t want to…”
Seriously, the research Cas had had him do when Dean was still sulking every month alone was enough to give Sam weeks of very disturbing, embarrassingly erotic, dreams staring Castiel and his brother, the wolf. He really didn’t need anymore fuel for that particular fire.
“But, whatever it was… I’ve never seen him this happy, not even before the whole werewolf, Lucifer, Apocalypse thing.”
“It would seem,” Castiel replied. “That some actions speak for themselves. Even to one as… thick headed as Dean Winchester.”
Castiel actually smirked at Sam, an action he had to have picked up from Dean, and Sam found himself blushing scarlet as a fresh wave of entirely new ‘actions’ rushed into his head. Damn it. He glared at the smirking angel and broke into a jog as the sounds of snarling and the screeching of the chupacabra grew louder.
Really, if he had to hear Dean complain about the taste of monster blood, because Sam wasn’t fast enough and he had to kill the thing himself, one more time, Sam wouldn’t be held responsible for his actions. It was bad enough having to listen to the full moon loving that went on next door every month without Dean’s bitching on top of it. And speaking of which, Sam did a mental tally of the contense of his wallet. He tried to ignore the looks Cas and the Dean/wolf were giving each other as he hacked the wounded chupacabra to pieces. The dive they’d passed on their way into town was looking more and more tempting. Honestly, who knew angels were so kinky?