misachan: (No personal space)
[personal profile] misachan
Title: Terms Of Service (Art Masterpost)
Author: [personal profile] misachan
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Dean/Castiel
Warnings: Character death, dubcon, explicit sex
Word Count: 4800

Summary: Winchester Auto Body has seen better days. With their father gone and Sam away at school it's all on Dean to keep the place afloat – so it's hard for him to admit he's failing. Bills are piling up and creditors are calling but Dean knows that if he could just push a little bit harder, find a few more hours in the day he could turn it around. In fact, there's a restoration job in the shop right now that would go a long way toward solving his problems. Unfortunately, the due date is the next morning and Dean knows there's not a chance in hell of him finishing on time.

But when he wakes up the next morning the car is perfect. This becomes a pattern, Dean waking up in the morning to find work he'd left undone finished overnight until his curiosity gets the better of him; he stakes out the shop one night and finally discovers the identity of his mysterious assistant: a beautiful, winged – and naked – elf calling himself Castiel. As the two of them start working together the curiosity turns to fascination and finally to something more but there are words Castiel can't say and choices he can't make – not without consequences Dean can't understand. An AU based on the fairy tale "The Elves And The Shoemaker."


"Why does my state of undress bother you so much?"

Dean was so thrown by the question he almost smacked his head on the hood as he straightened up. "Huh?"

"I wouldn't have thought it a difficult question."

Dean wiped his hands off as he tried to figure out what Cas was getting at. "What makes you think it bothers me?"

"You stare."

Well, Dean certainly couldn't deny that. "Guess I'm not as smooth as I thought." He shut the Impala's hood and leaned over it, fighting the urge to let his gaze linger on the curve of Castiel's hipbone because it was seriously not the time. "It's not because I'm bothered, Cas, trust me." Castiel gave him a scoffing look and Dean sighed. "Okay, it's a little...it's just kind of weird, y'know? People don't just walk around naked all the time. It's hard not to stare."

"Nothing's stopping you from matching me."

He said it so casually Dean had no idea if it was just an innocent suggestion or if Cas was flirting. He wondered if flirting was even something elves did. "How about we play a little game, Cas?" Dean said, putting just the hint of a leer into his voice. "I ask you a question, anything I want, and if you answer it something comes off. Like strip twenty questions, although I don't think we'll get to twenty."

Castiel gave Dean that head tilt of his. "If it would amuse you."

"Yeah. Think it would."

"All right, then."

Dean ran his tongue over his lips, trying to decide where to start. "How old are you?"

Castiel's brow furrowed; he actually stopped working for a few moments, tapping his wrench against his palm as he pondered his answer. "A few millenia," he finally said, and Dean had figured it would be a big number but he hadn't quite expected that big. "I don't know that I could give an exact number, the human calendar's undergone a few revisions over the centuries. Does that suffice?"

"I guess after a few thousand birthdays I would stop counting, too."

"We're not born. We're formed."

He gave Dean a look and Dean grinned; he slid his watch off his wrist and placed it on the counter behind him. "That totally counts."

Castiel quirked an eyebrow at that, a clear no it doesn't look if Dean had ever seen one, but he didn't press the issue. "What's your next question?"

"What's your full name?"

"Castiel is my full name. We don't use family names the way humans do."

Dean guessed that technically counted and kicked off one boot. "How many of you are there?"

"Five thousand four hundred and fifty two."

Dean couldn't help his eyebrows raising. "No way. How come I've never heard about anything like this happening before?"

"There are billions of humans, Dean. Our population is tiny compared to that and we're rarely seen. Most people believe us to be little more than folktales." He gave Dean a sideways look as he finished fitting the passengers' side window into place. "And that counts as a second question."

Dean rolled his eyes but kicked off the second boot and slid off one sock. "Fine, fine. My turn again." He nodded to Castiel's wings. "Can you fly on those?"

Castiel frowned for a moment. "Not flight as you understand it." Dean heard that familiar flutter of wings and suddenly Castiel was behind him, so close Dean could feel warm breath on the back of his neck. "It's not flight so much as stepping between realities for a moment," he said, that low voice sinking under Dean's skin. "Although the wings are more of a marker than truly functional. I could 'fly' like this with or without them." Dean heard the flutter again and Castiel reappeared on the opposite side of the car.

"A marker of what?"

Castiel gave him that look again and Dean peeled off his second sock and pulled off his shirt, rapidly running out of options. "Of my servitude."

"Figured they were just an elf thing," Dean muttered, his gut turning sour. "I guess if you've gotta have a slave collar wings are one of the better ones to have."

Castiel's brows furrowed again as he frowned. "Why do you always get so hostile when I mention my servitude? It's my nature. It makes as much sense as being angry at the color of my hair."

"I'm supposed to be the one asking the questions."

"I hadn't been made aware this game was one-sided. It doesn't seem fair to penalize me for being unable to meet the condition you set." He stepped back from the window, trying to eyeball whether it was in straight.

Dean supposed Castiel did have a point. "Okay, so here's what we'll do. I'll answer your questions, but when I do I get a free one, since you don't have anything to take off. And I'm running out of clothes already anyway."

Castiel nodded. "That's acceptable. I believe you owe me an answer, then."

"I don't like the whole idea of it. I wasn't kidding when I said I didn't want a slave."

Castiel almost looked hurt. "I thought you'd come to look forward to my appearing."

"That's not what I meant. I like you being here but it doesn't mean anything if you're being compelled to be here. Hell, if I were you I don't think I'd be able to look at me."

Castiel shook his head, clearly as befuddled as if Dean had dropped into a foreign language. "I don't resent you, Dean. Have I ever given you that impression?"

Dean crossed his arms. "I don't get why you don't."

"I've lived as long as I have because of my service, Dean. This would be like asking me to resent air."

"A few thousand years is a hell of a long time not to be able to choose a damn thing about your own life." He looked at Castiel for a long while, wishing for roughly the thousandth time that the guy could be easier to read. "Do I still have any freebies?"

"Assuming I'm lenient and don't count that one, yes, you have one more."

"I gonna go ahead and assume you're doing that." He drummed his hand against the hood of the car. "If you could choose to be anywhere right now, where would you be?"

Cas' jaw clenched. "I'm not sure I can answer that."

"Sure you can. Gotta be something you'd rather be doing back home."

It wasn't technically a question but Castiel's forehead creased in concentration anyway. "When I'd been sent to that other workshop that one night the only thing I found myself longing for was to be here." His voice was so low Dean had to lean forward to hear it, like he was afraid someone was eavesdropping just out of sight.

Dean knew deep down he'd hoped that would be Cas' answer but he'd never actually believed that would happen. "Why don't you ever stay past dawn?"

"Because at daybreak I'm no longer material as you understand it. I dissipate back to my true form at the dawn and reform again at midnight. You shouldn't take it as a slight." He quirked one eyebrow at Dean. "That question you don't get for free."

Dean complied with the unspoken demand, pulling his belt out of his jeans and letting it drop to the floor. "What do you really look like, then?"

Castiel was quiet for a few moments, his eyes distant. "It's difficult to describe in terms you would understand. Light and...wind. Unformed power. And much, much larger." Castiel gave him that pointed look again and Dean pulled a rag out of his pocket and dropped it to the floor. "That's cheating."

"I'll decide what's cheating, thank you. So why the hell do you show up like this? Why look so close to human? And that's still one question, the second one's just elaborating the first."

"If you say so. And that shouldn't be difficult to understand, human workshops are built for humans. It would be difficult to do any work without hands."

Dean couldn't begin to imagine what it must feel like to be the immense thing Castiel described and then be squeezed and twisted up for hours each night. "Fuck, Cas, you must count the seconds until dawn comes and you're free again."

"You would be surprised." He stroked his fingers along the smooth car door. "Some of my siblings feel that way, of course, but I can't remember that I ever have. My true form is powerful but it comes with its own limitations." He opened the door, frowning when the hinges creaked. "My consciousness is unfettered during my daytime existence but it comes at the sacrifice of sensation," he said, crouching down to poke at the hinges, his eyes shadowed. "Long ago I served a mason and the entire workspace was outdoors. It was the first time I was able to see the sun as it rose and feel the warmth of those first rays before I dissipated. Being able to see the sun in my true form but not feel it any longer was...difficult. I've spent more days than I care to admit longing to hear a voice, or lingering in the memory from the night before. I'm sure it sounds very strange to you but much of the time I would rather be here." He glanced up at Dean. "You still have a few questions."

Dean just watched Castiel work for a few minutes, remembering that first night when Castiel had let his wing brush against Dean's arm. "Did you like it when I touched your wings that one night?" Dean already knew the answer to that – getting him that hard again was how a lot of his favorite dreams started – but he wanted to hear it.

He didn't expect Castiel to blush bright red, but that was a pretty good answer. "Enduring the day afterward was difficult," he admitted, again in that almost confessional whisper.

There went the jeans. Dean remembered how hard Cas had breathed as Dean massaged his fingers into those silky feathers, how he'd watched Cas get hard and how it had taken every single ounce of willpower to keep his hands where they'd belonged. "Do you elves have sex?"

Castiel almost choked when he heard the question. "We can."

Dean grinned as he dropped his boxers to the floor. "Well? Whattya think?"

Dean expected Castiel to just glance his way but instead he favored Dean with the power version of his usual stare, his gaze slowly traveling up and down Dean's body as if determined not to miss a single inch. Dean forced himself not to squirm; God alone knew how many hours he'd spent staring at Castiel when he thought the guy hadn't been looking. Turn about was fair play and all that. Finally Cas broke the spell, looking back down at his work. "You know you're pleasing to look at, Dean."

And sure, Dean knew he got a lot of positive attention when he looked for it but he really hadn't known if Castiel would feel the same way. "You ever have sex?"

"The game is over."

"Answer anyway."

Cas ran his tongue over his lips. "No."

"You ever want to?"

Castiel's mouth opened but no words came out. "I have to get back to my work, Dean."

"C'mon, Cas. Answer."

Castiel's mouth just set in a thin line as he went back to work, his wings held tight against his back. Dean walked around the front of the car; the wings quivered as he got close and he could see that Cas was very hard. "Can you answer?"

Castiel just gave him the most helpless look Dean had ever seen. "What I want is immaterial," he said, the words coming too fast. "I'm here to perform a task."

Dean nodded. "Okay. Okay, I get it." He grabbed Cas around the arm and pulled him up, forcing it when Cas resisted at first. Dean stood there for a few moments, close enough to feel him breathing. "Anyone ever kiss you, Cas?"

After a moment's hesitation Castiel shook his head. "No."

Dean pressed him against the car and kissed him slow and deep, taking his sweet time tasting him. Castiel's whole body jolted at the contact, like Dean was made of lightning; he jerked his head back and Dean grabbed a fistful of hair to hold him still. "Dean," he whispered, a moan mixed with a plea and Dean kissed him again to shush him, Cas opening his mouth to the kiss even as he put his hands against Dean's chest to attempt to push him away.

"You want me to stop kissing you?" Dean whispered, close enough to Castiel that their lips brushed as he spoke. "Say the word."

Instead Castiel shivered, moaning again as Dean sucked on his lip. He fumbled open the rear door and pushed Castiel inside the car; the backseat was one of the first things they'd refurbished and Dean thought it was high time they broke it in.

Dean knelt over him and trailed one hand down his body, almost getting lightheaded when Cas arched into the touch. Still, Castiel put both hands to Dean's chest and tried to push him away again and Dean responded by pinning Cas' wrists over his head, not missing the fleeting smile on Castiel's face when he did or how Cas pressed up against him. Castiel moaned when Dean kissed him again and Dean had dreamed about Castiel making that sound. Cas rocked his hips against Dean, his head tossing on the seat as Dean kissed down his neck, drawing soft, whining sounds from deep in his throat. Dean didn't have enough room to maneuver, especially not with Cas' wings taking up so much space but just being able to touch him like this was enough, feeling the heat of his skin against Dean's.

"Dean," he whimpered again, his breathing coming so fast Dean wondered if he could hyperventilate. "Dean, I have to work. I have to."

"Tell me to stop," Dean whispered into his ear, tracing his tongue along the tapered point.

Cas just moaned again, rocking his hips against Dean again. "Dean, please."

Dean could tell Castiel was asking for a lot of different thing in those two words. Reluctantly Dean let go of his wrists, the disappointment mingled in the relief in Castiel's eyes almost making Dean reconsider. Instead he grabbed Cas by the hair again, feeling the shiver it caused run through Castiel's entire body. "Next time I'll plan ahead," Dean promised, his lips back by Cas' ear. "And up until then that's all I want you to think about.”


"I don't understand. What do you want me to do?"

"Humor me, Cas. Can you do that for five minutes?"

The work on the Impala was going faster than Dean could ever have dreamed; the back end was still a mess, but from the front doors up it looked like a dream – the insides still needed work but looking at it front on could make your mouth water. Or it did for Dean, at least; even if he had a day where he was waiting on a part to do real work he still stole moments here and there to put some wax on the hood or shine some of the chrome.

He hadn't realized what a weight he'd been carrying around, knowing his baby was all smashed up and not being able to do anything about it. She'd always been good to him; never broke down when he was behind the wheel, never blew a tire. Hell, his first time had been right in the backseat, with a girl whose last name he no longer knew but whose eyes he remembered lighting up when he pulled up in his car. Half the time Dean suspected the girls liked the car more than they did him but he could never quite find it in him to be jealous. The other day he'd stumbled across a stash of photos of old girlfriends draped across the Impala's hood like they were auditioning for a Whitesnake video. Good times.

And that was where he'd gotten the idea. He and Castiel hadn't so much as touched since that night in the backseat; that had all gotten real heavy real fast and it took a few days for the two of them to get their rhythm back. Thinking about pushing Cas down in the backseat and holding him down both got him hard and sent guilt spiraling through his stomach. That was rougher than he usually got and all the times in the past where rougher stuff had gone down it had always been specifically asked for. Dean told himself Cas couldn't ask for it though, that was the whole point; from what Dean could tell the guy couldn't even admit out loud that he wanted to do anything but work. And yeah, he'd tried to push Dean away but Dean also remembered Cas grinding up against him when he'd pinned his wrists down, that little phantom smile he'd let slip. Sometimes the memory of the smile overtook Dean while they were both working in the shop and it was all he could do to not pin Cas against the wall and hold him there, to feel him shiver as Dean did all those things Castiel wasn't allowed to ask for. If Castiel needed plausible deniability, Dean could give it to him; every night for the past week he'd woken up hard from vivid, frustrating dreams of tying Cas up all over the shop and just running his hands over all that pale skin until Castiel forgot he'd ever been sent there to do anything else.

Then Dean found those old mementos and realized no, that wasn't quite what he wanted. Castiel up against the wall was great, Cas tied up so Dean could take his sweet time was better but what Dean knew he couldn't take one more night without seeing was Castiel draped across the hood of his car.

Dean finished tying the end of the rope around Castiel's right wrist and backed him up against the front fender. “Hop up on the hood,” he said. “I've sat on this hood and you're a lot lighter than me. I wanna see how that looks.” When Cas quirked one eyebrow at him Dean reminded, “Humor me, okay?”

Castiel still frowned, as if not quite sure this really fell within the rules but stretched out on the hood anyway and Jesus, the way the black paint made the white of his wings pop kept Dean from breathing for a second. “We're...testing the integrity of the suspension, then?”

“Whatever you have to tell yourself, Cas.” Because Castiel was giving him that same suspicious look from when the question game started getting suggestive and Dean knew he was smart enough to know this wasn't some strange human maintenance technique. Dean circled around the front of the car and picked up the other end of the rope; he'd already threaded it through the front seat before Castiel arrived and he'd made sure to measure it so that when he tied the free end around Cas' wrist he was tied down securely with enough slack for it to not hurt him.

Dean had thought about this a lot.

He stood back and just took in Cas lying on his back; he saw Cas' eyes go hooded when he noticed Dean staring and when he flared out his wings Dean felt his jeans start to get uncomfortably tight. “I believe I've humored you enough now. Untie me so I can get back to work.”

Instead Dean sidled up to the side of the car, stroking one hand along the black paint before pressing one hand against the center of Castiel's chest. “Told you, Cas,” he said, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “This time I planned ahead.”

Castiel's eyes dilated even as his lips pressed together into a line. “I have to work, Dean, I told you....”

“Shh,” Dean said, stroking his fingertips along Castiel's wing and watching his eyes flutter. “Not your fault you can't work, right? That's all on me.” When Castiel tried to pull on the ropes Dean pressed his hand back against his chest. “Watch out. You fight too hard you'll undo all the work we did on the trim. Betting that's against those rules of yours, huh?”

Castiel quieted, glaring up at Dean in a way that told him he was absolutely right. Dean grinned, stroking along the top of the wing again and trying to ignore the little voice in his head telling him this was the worst thing he'd ever done. The way Cas' back arched did a long way toward helping with that, the little sigh he let out as Dean smoothed down some of the ruffled feathers. “I do anything you don't want me to do, you just say 'stop.' You can say that, right?”

Cas' tongue ran over his lips, his eyes wide. “I...yes. I can say that.”

Well, that was a relief. “Then the second you want me to stop, that's what you say.” Dean went back to slowly stroking along the top joint of the wing, the silky feathers sliding through his fingers.

“Why...why can't I fly out of these bonds?” Cas said, his eyes closed.

Dean chuckled to himself. “Did some research on you guys. There's not a lot out there, but I found two stories about greedy shopkeepers who bound elves with silver so they'd work all night and all day. Didn't work out so well for those guys in the end, but it made me wonder if there wasn't some grains of truth in there. Special ordered some rope with silver threads. Dropped a chunk of money and the supply guy probably thinks I'm nuts but it looks like it was worth it.”

Castiel frowned. “You shouldn't listen to folktales.”

“Why? It wasn't right?” Castiel didn't answer and Dean thought he was more put out that the stories had been accurate than that Dean had found them. “So is that true? Could I tie you up with this and keep you here?” Castiel's eyes went wide and Dean pressed one finger against his lips. “I wouldn't. Forget I asked, I was just curious how much those old stories were true.” Dean thought he caught that flicker of disappointment again in Cas' eyes and pushed that away, busying himself with his slow inventory of Cas' body now that he had all the time in the world for it, starting with tracing one fingertip along the delicate point of his ear and smiling at how that sent a shiver all through him. “Remember, Cas. The instant I do something you don't like, you say stop.”

Then Dean got to work. He felt Castiel's eyes follow as he trailed one hand down his arm, tracing the curve of muscle and down his inner arm, following the veins visible through the pale skin. Cas sighed when Dean stroked down the delicate skin on the inside of his wrist; Dean took that as a cue to linger there for a while, watching Cas' eyes widen as he trailed just the tip of his tongue across that sensitive skin. He shifted and traced the lines of Cas' palm, first with his fingertips and then with his tongue, traveling along each curled finger and learning the pattern of each fingerprint. Dean moved back up his arm, tracing with his lips and tongue the way he had with his fingers, burying his hands in the mass of white feathers like he was never going to let go.

Dean turned Castiel's face toward him and kissed his lips, a very light, almost chaste kiss before taking the time to trace the edges of his lips, slowly enough that Castiel moaned. Dean grinned, kissing him again, one just deep enough this time that he felt Cas' lips part beneath his. He didn't let it get deeper than that, though, feeling Castiel tense in frustration as Dean kissed down the slight cleft in his chin and started down his neck. “Relax, Cas,” he murmured into his skin, tonguing the pulse point in his neck. “We got all night.” Dean traced the hollow of his throat, drawing out a strangled little sigh. He licked around the curve of Cas' collarbone while he busied his hands with trailing down his ribs, finding each little spot that made him jump and pull against his bonds and storing the information away for later. Cas' nipples were hard and he whimpered when Dean scraped just the edge of his teeth against one. “You're sensitive all over, Cas,” Dean whispered, loving the begging look Castiel sent his way. Dean kept traveling his way down Cas' body, licking his way down his stomach and pausing to feel him breathe. “Wish I had you tied to my bed right now,” he murmured into Cas' skin, feeling the way that made him shiver.

“What would you do?” Castiel said and just hearing that made Dean harder than he'd ever been in his life.

“Let's work our way up to that,” Dean said, moving his hands down to cradle his hips. He gently spread Cas' legs, running his hands across his inner thighs before taking a step back to just look at Castiel spread-eagled on the hood of his car, trying to tattoo it onto his memory. Then Dean stepped back to Castiel's side and licked up his shaft, feeling Castiel's whole body jolt up from that. Dean hesitated for an instant, waiting to hear if Castiel would give him the word to stop. When nothing came the rush was almost like the high from a drug. “I don't have a whole lot of experience with this, so you give me the word if I screw it up.” Castiel nodded, already breathing so fast Dean thought he'd better take it slow before he started to hyperventilate. Dean licked up his shaft again with exaggerated slowness, his eyes locked on Cas' face, the way his lips parted around another moan. Dean traced around the head of his cock before licking his fingers, probing just the outside of his opening. “Can't do everything I want with you trussed like this, but I can at least do this,” he said, pushing one finger in.

Cas' hips bucked, his head tossing back; Dean pressed his finger in up to the knuckle and gave Castiel a moment to relax, grateful to a girl he'd run with a few years back who'd taught him how good this felt. Dean crooked his finger and Cas' hips jerked up, his eyes wide blue circles. Dean took the head of Cas' cock into his mouth and sucked hard; he saw Cas' hands ball into fists and heard him whisper his name. Dean tore his gaze away and forced himself to focus; he could tell Cas was very, very close, the taste of precome salty on his tongue. Dean sucked hard again, trailing his tongue around the head of his cock, feeling Castiel's legs start to shake. It took a few more seconds but finally with one more flick of his tongue he heard Castiel cry out as he came in Dean's mouth. Dean felt those contractions around his finger and imagined feeling that around his cock, hot and tight and that was almost enough to make Dean to come without Cas even touching him.

Dean wiped his mouth and watched Cas shake. “Take it you liked that, huh?”

Castiel swallowed hard. “I....” He took a few seconds to catch his breath. “I never knew it felt like this.” He took another deep, ragged breath. “Humanity makes much more sense now.”

Dean grinned at that, untying one of Castiel's wrists and easing him off the car, holding him up when his legs wouldn't support him. “Take it easy. Enjoy it.”

“Are you going to let me get back to work now?”

“You want me to?” Castiel didn't answer, instead pressing his face against Dean's neck in a way that seemed unintentional but Dean knew absolutely was not. Dean wrapped the silvered rope around Castiel, feeling the shiver that ran through him and the way his eyes lit up when Dean leaned in to kiss him again. “Got some other stuff I'd rather do first.”


Work on the Impala stopped going quite so quickly. Dean had absolutely no problem with that.

-On To Part 5-

-Back To Masterpost-

-Back To Part 3-
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