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There were many things in Dean's life that he hated. He hated how his dad had raised him to be a soldier first, and a person second. He hated how much John had despised him, even when all he did was try to be good. He hated how Sam couldn't see it, even though he hadn't wanted him to - sometimes he wished that he hadn't been so successful, that Sam had realized what had happened. He hated that he was here at all, in this house, in this room.
He'd told himself that he would stay away, that he wouldn't burden another person with his problems like he had been doing for so long.
That he would release one more person from the role in his life they didn't want to play.
But now he was here. And he should go, he still had time, but he couldn't. Because he needed- he needed so much. But right now he needed this, and if he left he would still need it, and give it three days and he would be back again, in the same house, the same room, the same position.
Dean gripped his wrists tightly behind his back, fighting the fatigue in all of his muscles in order to stay in the correct pose. He was alone in the house, he had let himself in with the spare key from under the plant pot, and he knew no one else would know if he let his position slip, but he would know. He would know he'd been bad. He would know he had failed.
He hated that part of his biology. He hated the instinctual need to be good, even when he wasn't told to, even when there was no one there to know he hadn't been. He wanted to stop, to just not. But he couldn't. And even when he tried not to, he still needed-
It wasn't John's fault, he knew that he was born like this, and that his upbringing didn't change that, and it was more likely his biology changing how he reacted to his dad, rather than the other way round, but he still wondered. If his life was normal, if he had grown up with a mom, and a dad who cared, would he be this messed up? Would he have failed in such an unchangeable way?
There wasn't much point thinking about it, this was his life, this was how he was, and however much he tried to ignore it, it would always come and bite him in the ass eventually.
He absentmindedly rubbed his right wrist. It was normally covered in bracelets, hiding the little mark on the inside of his wrist which changed so much. The small line, running horizontally across his wrist, merely a centimetre thick and only spanning the length of the underside of his wrist, could be blamed for at least half of the problems in Dean's life. He knew that the mark did nothing but show what his biology truly was - show the world that he was a Sub - it had shown up when his instincts started showing up, but his biology wasn't changed by it. However it was the only visible sign of what he was, the only thing stopping him from hiding it completely, and if no one ever knew the truth of what he was, it would be too many people too soon.
He shifted awkwardly in place, his skin crawling like it had been for the last few days, his muscles shaking. Even though this was what he was here for, his knees were screaming at him, the hard wooden floor giving him no padding to protect his knees.
He should go. This was a stupid idea.
But he needed-
He heard the clattering of a key in the lock, the creaking of the door opening, the quiet sounds echoing through the house and sounding like gunshots in the otherwise silent room, even from where he was, all the way upstairs.
The noise of worn shoes shuffled in through the front door, a coat was hung up on the coat hook, the footsteps continued, this time the gentle padding of socks on wooden floors.
They didn't know he was here. He had an open invitation, but they wouldn't be expecting him. Not here, not now. He wasn't going to turn back, even though it would probably be the best plan.
There was a clatter from downstairs, the office if Dean had the direction correct, and he wondered if they were going to stay down there, do some work. He would be left up here to wait until they found him.
That was okay.
He could wait.
He just needed-
The stairs. They were creaking. They weren't staying downstairs to work, they were coming up. To their room, to where Dean was. They would see him. It would be okay. He could get what he needed.
He shifted his position, making sure he was perfect. Straightening his back which had started slouching some time in the last hour, centering his balance, placing his hands, palm up, on his thighs, lifting his head, lowering his gaze. It wasn't perfect, it was barely good enough - Dean was barely good enough - but the door was starting to open and it would have to do.
He heard a quiet gasp come from behind him, shock and something else - something positive? - portrayed in just that one noise. He wanted to turn around, look at Cas and see the look on his face, but he hadn't been told he was allowed to look around, so he wasn't going to.
The footsteps got closer and closer, but he didn't get the touch he wanted. Instead, a gravelly voice reached his ears. "Dean?" He sounded hesitant, like he wasn't quite sure where either one of them stood, despite Dean's obvious position.
"Yes Sir," Dean sighed, just those two words starting to ease the itch which was dancing under his skin.
"Alright then sweet boy." The name sent a shiver through Dean, feeling more balanced already and they hadn't even done anything. "What's your safeword?" Not everyone used safewords, claiming that biology outweighed any need for them. Cas did not hold that belief, and that was one of the reasons Dean knew he was safe here.
"Impala, Sir."
"Good boy." The words were like a soft caress, soothing his very soul.
The footsteps started up again, and in only a couple of moments Dean could see Cas' holey black socks, and the bottom of his slacks. He kept his gaze down, even though he desperately wanted to look up at Cas. He would be good. He could be good.
"You may look around," Cas said, his tone hardening slightly in contrast to when he first walked into the room, but just as warm as it had been back then.
The second he was allowed to, Dean looked up. Cas looked exactly how he always did, business suit still on from his day job, even though he had abandoned his blazer. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, flaunting the solid muscles and the small vertical line on his left wrist, the same size as Dean's, but representing the polar opposite. Castiel looked tired, a relaxed smile which didn't quite look real on his face. When Dean looked up even more, he saw concern in Cas' eyes.
"What happened sweet boy?" Cas asked lowly, running one of his hands through Dean's hair, the action releasing tension Dean hadn't even realized he was carrying.
Dean's eyes slammed back to the floor, shaking his head slowly. He couldn't. He couldn't tell the truth. He didn't need to talk, he needed-
"Hey, it's okay," Cas muttered, and it's only then that Dean realized that he'd been making wounded animal noises. "You are going to have to tell me, but not yet. You can tell me later, okay? For now you just need to-" he cut himself off suddenly, his eyes hardening in what Dean knew was definitely anger. He didn't know what he had done, but he had done something wrong.
"Sir?" he asked quietly. He hated the suspense. He hated knowing that something was wrong, but not knowing what.
"Stand up boy." His tone was sharp, and Dean didn't miss the fact he was apparently not a sweet boy. But of course he wasn't. He did something wrong.
"What did I- Sir?" Dean's voice was shaking, while he slowly rose to his feet, his knees aching and his legs barely able to hold his weight after staying in one position for so long. The fear in Dean's eyes seemed to be enough to knock Cas out of his anger. He still looked angry, but his eyes softened slightly, and he started gently running his hands up and down Dean's arms.
"What's the rule about kneeling in my house?"
Dean froze. He couldn't remember which rule Cas was talking about. He'd been in the right position, there weren't any rules about where he was supposed to kneel except when- oh. He was on a wooden floor. The rule was he was to never kneel on a hard floor without a cushion. He didn't have a cushion.
"Use a cushion when on a hard floor, Sir," Dean whispered, his eyes locked onto the floor just in front of him.
"And why didn't you use a cushion?"
"I forgot about it Sir. I wasn't really thinking."
Castiel squinted for a minute, his gaze feeling like a physical touch. "We will come back to this later," he eventually said, nodding to himself like he just made a decision. "Please take off as many clothes as you are comfortable with, and then meet me downstairs."
"Yes Sir," Dean managed to say just before Cas left the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He could no longer think that this was a mistake, not when he was feeling more settled than he had in weeks, his instincts starting to calm now that he had his - no, he needed to set him free. After this. One last time. Then he would free him. - Now that he had a dom with him.
He took off his flannel and his top, along with his socks, but left his jeans on, not wanting to give the wrong impression. He was here because of his biological need, not because of anything else.
Maybe if he thought it enough it would come true?
He sighed quietly, turning to the door to walk downstairs. He hadn't been told he was allowed to stand around thinking before going downstairs, and he wasn't going to go against an order this quickly.
When he got downstairs Cas was sitting on the couch, a cushion between his legs. It was clear where he wanted Dean, and he happily sunk back into his kneeling position, laying his head on Cas' knee and allowing himself to relax.
"Good boy," Cas whispered, and Dean felt something inside of him swell. He was good. He managed it. He made Cas proud.
Castiel started gently running his fingers through Dean's hair. He didn't say anything, just let Dean sit in silence, his presence enough to calm Dean's troubled thoughts and allow him to just float.
He wasn't sure how long he floated for, but next thing he knew Castiel was starting to shift, his hands pulling at Dean's hair gently, just enough for the pinpricks of sensation to ground him back in his body.
"Nghhhh," Dean groaned. His body was jittery, caught in a need to make people happy. He didn't want to be there, he wanted to stay floating, where worldly problems didn't matter, and all that he had to focus on was the warmth of Cas' knee under his cheek.
"Come on, come back to me sweet boy," Cas was muttering. His gentle words made Dean feel slightly better, but it was nothing compared with the gentle float when he was in Subspace.
"Nughhhhh," Dean complained, "I don't wanna." He knew from the fact he could talk that he was already out enough that there was no going back, but that wasn't going to stop him from complaining.
"That wasn't a choice," Cas said, his hand tightening slightly in Dean's hair.
"Sorry Sir," Dean breathed out, forcing himself to emerge completely and shake himself back into awareness. He sat up straight, shifting into the perfect kneeling position.
"Good boy," Castiel smiled, "when was the last time you drank something?"
"Ummmm," Dean said awkwardly, running his hands on his jeans to try and dry them off. When had he started sweating?
The need to submit had been really bad the last couple of days, that was the main reason he was there, at Castiel's house, but before he’d given in, when he was still trying his best to avoid Cas, the need had gotten bad enough that he could barely function. He had called in sick to work, and then just readied himself to wait until he was desperate enough to go and find someone to help him.
Charlie had turned up on the second day. She didn't know what was happening, Dean hadn't told her and she wasn't one to assume, so she just forced him to drink some water, and tried to get him to eat as well. She didn't manage to get any food in him, but the water helped.
"I drank something… yesterday?" Dean said, not certain. It was hard to pay attention to the passage of time when his entire being was just focused on being good, even when there was no one there to be good for. "Maybe the day before that…"
Castiel's lips drew into a thin line, clear disapproval on his face. "And when did you last eat?"
"A couple of days ago?" Dean could feel himself shrinking down, curling his bare shoulders forwards to try and make himself less of a target. Cas was disappointed in him.
"Follow me," Cas said shortly, his entire body taunt as he stood up and started walking out the room. Dean quickly followed him, ignoring how his head spun and his vision went a bit fuzzy. His Dom was angry at him. He had to obey as well as he physically could to make Cas happy again.
His footsteps were quiet as he padded after Cas, his head bowed submissively. He had needed to be good, but now here he was, making things worse. As per usual.
"Set the table please sweet boy," Cas said, his voice slightly calmer now that they were in the kitchen, but he was clearly not happy about how Dean had been treating himself, he'd just decided there were more pressing matters to attend to first. Dean knew how his Dom worked, that was why he always came to Cas instead of looking for an anonymous hook up. He could trust Cas to look after him, and to prioritise sorting it all out over getting angry.
"Yes Sir," Dean said quietly, grabbing the plates out of the bottom cupboard, and then the cutlery from the draw above that. He set two places at the table, but when Cas looked over to see what he was doing he raised an eyebrow, the meaning behind the gesture clear, so Dean quickly changed it to one plate and put the spare set away.
Apparently Dean wasn't going to be eating on his own today. That was probably just as well, he wasn't sure he would be able to if given the choice.
"Fill two glasses with water, and put them next to the plate," Cas ordered without even looking up from where he was cooking. It looked like some kind of finger food - which Dean had already gathered from the single plate situation - but he couldn't properly see it and he knew better than to try and find out. He didn't need to know anything. Cas was the one in charge, so he was the only one who needed to know what was going on.
Dean hurried to fill up the glasses, making sure to not spill a single drop as he gently placed them both next to the plate.
He stood awkwardly for a moment, rocking on his heels and staring at the pristine walls. He hadn't been told what else to do, so he just stood there, hating how the knot in his stomach was already starting to tighten now that he had nothing to do.
"Grab your cushion please, place it to the right of my chair, and then kneel and wait for me to bring our food over."
Dean breathed out in relief, quickly grabbing 'his' cushion, the comfiest one on Cas' couch which Cas always insisted on to protect Dean's knees. It always made Dean feel warm when it was referred to as his. It made him feel like he wasn't just a burden, even when he knew he actually was.
"Dean!" Cas sounded stern, the harsh single word enough to jolt Dean out of his thoughts. "I didn't tell you to stand around, I told you to put your cushion next to my chair."
Cas always seemed to know when Dean needed to be left alone with his thoughts, and when he needed to be jolted back into reality. It was his ability to read anyone like a book which made him such a good Dom. No matter who you were, he knew what you needed, and if the very thought of Cas with other Subs hurt Dean, then that was his own problem.
By the time he put the cushion down and settled himself into the kneeling pose Cas preferred for at the table, Cas had finished plating up his food and was walking over to the table. Dean quickly tucked his chin down to his chest so couldn't see how full the plate was, but he hoped there was enough because now that his mind was starting to settle, he was becoming more and more aware of how hungry he was.
Castiel settled into his chair, gently running one hand through Dean's hair as he picked up his fork and started eating. Dean allowed the fuzziness to return to his mind, the freedom of not having to make any choices - not even what to eat or when - allowing himself to just float away as his body held his position.
It took him a couple of moments to register the fingers hanging in front of his face, something breaded being held out to him. Cas was patient as ever, his own fork still picking food for him while he waited for Dean to react. The lack of attention to him should have felt demeaning, but instead it was comforting. It meant that Cas still trusted him to eat without being watched, even if he had failed before.
Dean leaned forwards, pulling the food and the fingers into his mouth. He could do so many things with Cas’ fingers in his mouth, but this wasn't anything sexual, so instead he just took his food, and leaned back to eat it.
He chewed quickly and swallowed, getting a pleased hum and a gentle pull on his hair in reward.
"Good boy," Cas said, an obvious smile in his voice as he offered Dean another piece of food. He didn't actually know what he was eating, but it was crispy on the outside, and soft on the inside, and kind of cheesy, and delicious, even if his brain was too fuzzy to add that all together to tell him what it was.
He floated even higher, swaying slightly from side to side and accepting any food which Cas offered him. He started losing track of time, and his surroundings, and even himself. His only focus on eating the food presented to him, and the quiet words of encouragement Cas gave him.
Gentle pressure on the back of his head pressed him down to rest his head on Cas' knee, allowing his body to go even more boneless than before and causing him to float even higher. In most situations feeling like this made him uncomfortable, he hated the feeling of not being able to protect himself, but he trusted Cas and knew that he would protect him while he was indisposed.
Dean didn't notice when the plate was cleared, nor did he notice when Cas offered him the water. He drank it, but his consciousness wasn't aware of it. He didn't notice the passage of time, while Cas sat there and waited, still running his fingers though Dean's hair.
"Dean? Are you with me sweet boy?" Cas started pulling at his hair slightly harder than before, the tiny pinpricks of pain grounding Dean and pulling him back down.
"Ye'ir," Dean mumbled, rolling his head so that his face was hidden against Cas' knee, his naked chest accidently rubbing against Cas' jeans while he shifted.
"Dean, I need you back here properly so I can talk to you." Dean hummed against the leg under his face, slowly returning to reality. He knew he had no chance of coming back fully, but it would be better than before, and hopefully he would still be back enough to listen to whatever Cas wanted to say. It sounded serious, and Dean was instantly worried about what was about to happen.
"I'm back Sir," Dean said, lifting his head so that he was back to kneeling instead of leaning against Cas' knee and shaking the last of the fuzziness away and focusing completely on his Dom, on his body language and his words.
"Thank you sweet boy," Cas said, smiling over at him, a sadness in his words contrasting to the smile. "Now can you please tell me what happened? How did it get this bad without you doing anything about it?"
Dean hung his head, his eyes focused on the wood under Cas' chair. He should have known this conversation would come up at one point or another, but he had naively assumed that Cas would wait until tomorrow. He didn't know why he had ever thought that, he was a lot more balanced now, and it made sense that Cas would want this cleared up as soon as possible.
"You went on holiday," Dean started slowly, wringing his hands together nervously.
"Yes, I recall," Cas said slowly, "but that was only for a week, and I got back weeks ago. That doesn't explain how it got this bad without you coming here."
"I d-didn't want to be a burden." Dean could feel tears start to well up in his eyes, and he knew he had to say it now before he was unable to say anything more. "You went away and while you were there I realized how much of a burden I was on you, so I tried to set you free, but no one else knows what I am, and it just kept on getting worse." He couldn't say anything more, having to put all his effort into breathing and blinking back tears. He'd hidden the fact he was a Sub from pretty much everyone he knew. Not even Sam knew, and Cas only knew because this wasn't the first time he had dragged him off the edge. Cas kept on encouraging Dean to tell someone, but he didn't push. He knew it was a difficult subject for Dean, and that he hid it for a reason.
"Oh Dean," Cas said quietly, sadly, as he wiped Dean's tears away. "You're not a burden to me. I get as much out of this as you do, though I prefer doing it when you are in better shape. You aren't a burden."
"I'm sorry," Dean whispered, "I'm sorry for getting it so wrong. I'm sorry for-"
"Shhh." Cas put a finger against Dean's lips, stopping his rambling. "You're forgiven. Just please don't forget it again. You can't keep doing this. It's dangerous to let yourself get this close to the edge this often."
Dean frowned down at his hands. "I'm weak now," he muttered angrily. "I used to be able to handle it. I didn't used to be a slave to my biology like I am now."
Cas sighed, sounding tired. "Dean, that wasn't handling it. You used to pick up a random hook-up to deal with the need for touch, and pick up the bottle for all the other symptoms." Dean knew that what he was saying was true, but he still hated it. He still hated that he was this weak little bitch who needed someone else to look after him to stop him from falling into the abyss of biology.
The hand in his hair tightened, as though Cas knew what he was thinking. Which to be fair, Dean was pretty predictable, Cas probably did know exactly what he was thinking.
"Submitting isn't weak Dean," Cas pretty much growled, "trusting someone enough to let go that much, and know that they will catch you. To allow them to take you apart, and know that they will put you back together. To know they will only do things that will be good for you. That takes strength. I wouldn't be able to do that, yet you do it so beautifully. You do it so amazingly and I wish you could realize that for yourself."
Dean kept his gaze down, unable to make eye contact with Cas right now, but he nodded. "I'm not certain you're right, but I do trust you Sir, and I know you wouldn't say something you didn't believe."
"Thank you, that's all I ask. Now, do you want to stop now? Or continue?" Cas didn't need to say any more for Dean to know what he was asking, and he didn't need to think very hard to come to his answer.
"Continue please Sir."
"Alright then sweet boy," Cas said, running a gentle hand down Dean's chest, "I'm going to put all of this is the kitchen, please go to the sitting room and put on the bee documentary I have recorded."
Dean scrunched up his face, but didn't argue, standing up slowly to shake out his legs before he went to do as he was told. He may not enjoy watching bees do bee stuff for multiple hours, but Cas loved them and he would never argue.
Cas settled onto the couch after he had finished moving the dirty dishes to the kitchen, gesturing to the couch next to him when Dean started sinking onto the floor next to him.
"No sweet boy, come and sit up here with me. You've been doing a lot of kneeling today, I think it's time we give your knees a rest."
Dean nodded, settling against Cas' side in a way which was a bit closer to domestic than submissive. Neither of them argued though, and Dean could still the fuzziness on the edge of his mind, softening the edges of everything.
Dean hated many things in his life, but this - whatever this was - was definitely not one of those things.