Tuesday: Kink

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Good morning all. I think I'm badfalcon but with the headache I've got right now, I can't be too sure.

Continuing with me being utterly self-indulgent, we're going to have anotehr one of my favourite things today: Kink Day.
Foot fetish? Bondage? Spanking? Piercing? Tie & Tease? a full S&M 24/7 total power exchange?
Just remember: your kink is your kink, and someone else's kink is theirs!

Please remember the following:

Post no more than three prompts per fandom and no more than five prompts in a row. If someone fills a prompt, you're more than welcome to post some more prompts later in the day.

No spoilers in prompts for at least seven days after the original airdate or publication date. If you have spoilers in your fic, please warn in bold and leave at least three spaces.

Show some love to the code monkeys and format your prompts correctly. Examples below (last one is for crossovers):

Kane RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, spanked with a wooden spoon
NCIS/Criminal Minds, Abby/Garcia, Are you comfortable?

If none of the prompts left today tickle your fancy, feel free to take a peek at the Lonely Prompts

Enjoy!

"[tag=kink]"

Comments

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

Kane RPS, Christian Kane/Steve Carlson, spanked with a wooden spoon

Fighting

[melodious329.livejournal.com]

Me again with a spanking prompt. They call to me, lol.
***

Christian’s on his knees on the bed, his ass raised by a body pillow, his hands cuffed together and secured to the sturdy headboard with rope, his legs hampered by the spreader bar between his thighs.

Christian’s not going anywhere, but that doesn’t stop him from fighting the restraints. He’s not testing them, not testing Steve, he’s really trying to get loose, really letting loose himself.

Steve watches as Christian yanks hard on his wrists, bucks and writhes, tries to get his knees more under him for leverage and growls in frustration. But Steve isn’t just a passive observer. Steve started with his hand, a few hits just to watch the pink tinge rise up on creamy skin. But Steve’s favorite is a wooden spoon. He supposes it says something about him, something about his love of cooking and his love of Christian, something about being both punishment and comfort.

That’s what this is. Steve whacks Christian’s ass with the spoon until its cherry red, until Steve knows that Christian’s going to have a hard time sitting down this week. ‘Course that’s why Steve only chooses the spoon from amongst their toys when Christian has a little time off.

Steve spanks him until Christian stops jerking and writhing, stops fighting against everything and himself. In the silence then, Steve can better hear what Christian’s saying in a hoarse, wrecked voice. “Don’t…Stop, please, Steve, no, don’t…”

But still Steve doesn’t hear the word that makes it all stop. Christian doesn’t want to be an obedient sub, doesn’t *need* that. Christian needs to fight, needs to rage, needs to hurt and be forced, forced to let go, forced to surrender. And Christian needs to know all the while that Steve won’t be scared away, that Steve will be there to comfort him when he finally breaks.

Christian shies away when Steve begins to prepare him, whimpering out, “No, please don’t…” until Steve’s fingers are brushing his prostate and Christian’s whimpers turn into a sharp cry. Steve leans his weight on one forearm across Christian’s upper back as he presses insistently inside. He knows that every thrust is shoving his hipbones into the bruised flesh of Christian’s ass, but he also can feel Christian’s hard length in his other hand as he strokes it in rhythm.

Defeated now, willing and wanton, Christian presses back into the brutal thrusts, still making little mewling noises that sound as much from pain as pleasure. Steve makes sure that Christian comes first, makes sure that he fucks Christian through it before Steve himself is filling the condom.

Gently, Steve removed his restraining arm from Christian’s back and kisses Christian’s temple before gripping the condom and pulling out. Christian lies still, exhausted and overcome. But Steve can’t rest because this part of the scene is just as important as the spanking.

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

NCIS/Criminal Minds, Abby/Garcia, Are you comfortable?

[badfalcon.livejournal.com]

RPS, Jeffrey Dean Morgan/Christian Kane, that's not a leash damnit

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

Criminal Minds/Firefly, Emily Prentiss/Simon Tam, handcuffed to a cold table in an empty interrogation room

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

Dark Angel, Max/Alec, electrocution: because X5's can handle anything

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

Push, Nick/Cassie, "You're fifteen, I think that's kinky enough."

Rated PG-13, Push, Nick/Cassie, "You're fifteen, I think that's kinky enough."

[yoruichiyoshi12.livejournal.com]

He was going to Hell. He was sleeping with a fifteen year old and he was going straight to Hell where he was going to burn for infinity. Nick groaned and ran a hand over his face. He'd break up with her today; no more putting it off.

Cassie stomped into the room, clutching her robe tightly around her body. "This lingerie isn't as sexy as a thought it was going to be."

"What? You didn't Watch what you would look like wearing it."

"I did... but I only Looked at myself trying it on in the dressing room, and it fit fine, so I bought it." She sighed and let the robe fall to the floor.

Nick's mouth went dry as he looked her over. It had been a few years since the first met, but Cassie was still relatively the same sizes as she had been then. She was short and thin, and her breasts had grown, though she was only a B cup. He understood how she could be self-conscious about her body, he knew she compared herself to other women that she knew he had dated. On top of that, she tried to overcompensate for being so young.

At times like this, he realized how wonderful she was just being herself.

"Sorry. I wanted to be sexy and kinky for you."

Nick kissed her softly. He ran his hands up her bony lace covered hips. "You're fifteen. That's kinky enough for me." He brushed his fingers over her small mounds and moaned softly.

As they had sex that night, he couldn't quite remember the reasons why he was going to end their relationship, but he knew he would at least be happy when he went to hell.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

Firefly, Simon Tam/Inara Sera, silk ties and hot wax

[alcimines.livejournal.com]

Practice Makes Perfect (Firefly, Simon Tam/Inara Sera, silk ties and hot wax)

Inara carefully escorted Simon from her shuttle. The young man seemed... a bit overwhelmed.

"Thank you, Simon," Inara said very sincerely.

"Erk," Simon sort-of replied. His eyes were very wide. He was having trouble walking a straight line.

"My client has some very... specialized... needs," Inara continued as she carefully steered Simon down a low set of stairs. "I appreciate you're help in getting me back into practice."

Simon gulped and nodded his head. Then Inara noticed that a tie was still looped around one of his ankles. Dammit, she thought she'd got all of them.

"Hold still," Inara said distractedly. After helping Simon lean against the bulkhead, she knelt, unknotted the tie, pulled it loose, and hurriedly looped it around her forearm.

Simon was still staring out at nothing much when she stood up. A splash of red candle wax was still smeared under his right ear. Inara frowned and scrapped it off with her thumbnail. She thought she'd got it all when she cleaned him after the practice session. Perhaps she had let herself get distracted...

"Simon, are you sure you're all right?" Inara asked worriedly.

"Suuure..." Simon slurred, not quite able to look Inara in the face as he spoke.

Inara hesitated for a moment and then said, "Maybe I should help you to your cabin and get you into bed."

"Bed?" Simon whimpered in a somewhat panicky voice as his entire body went rigid.

"To rest!" Inara replied quickly soothingly. "Just rest. Wouldn't that be nice, Simon? To sleep for a little while?"

Simon nodded his head and slowly relaxed.

Inara bit her lip. As far as she could tell, her presence was only making things worse.

"Simon, can you make it the rest of the way on your own?" she asked.

Simon nodded.

"Well... thank you, again. And I'll let you go now..." Inara said uncertainly.

Simon nodded again, turned on his heel and walked about a dozen paces. Then he loudly banged his head on a low-hanging piece of equipment.

"Oh, dear..." Inara said as she rushed over to him.

She really should have asked Kaylee for help instead.

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

CSI:NY/Criminal Minds, Don Flack/Emily Prentiss, "On your knees. Hands behind your back."

Fill: call my name and save me from the dark

[helsinkibaby.livejournal.com]

So I found this in a lonely prompt post and only realised it was a kink prompt when I came to post it - oops?

*
The moment Don got home, he knew that there was someone in his apartment.  It could have been intuition, it could have been that things were slightly different from where he'd left them, but something had him drawing his gun as he closed the door quietly behind him. "Whoever's there," he commanded in his best NYPD detective voice, "Come out slowly, with your hands up."

There was a noise, a clatter from the living room, something being dropped in fright he guessed, so that was where he headed, walking cautiously, carefully, ready to fire at any moment. "On your knees," he ordered. "Hands behind your back."

Then he rounded the corner and stopped as his breath vanished from his lungs and his mind reeled because what he was seeing was not possible. 

She wasn't on her knees, she was standing up. Her hands weren't behind her back but they were in the air in the universal sign of surrender. Her eyes, as she looked at him, were filled with tears. 

"Don." Her voice was calm, if more than a little unsteady. "Don, it's me."

All he could do was shake his head. "No." His own voice, like hers, was trembling. "No... you're dead."

Emily shook her head, took a step towards him. "No," she whispered. "I'm so sorry, Don..."

"You're dead," he heard himself say again, a definite roaring filling his ears and  drowning out her voice. "I was at your funeral... I watched them put your coffin in the ground..." He was dimly aware that he was backing up towards the wall, when he hit it, he managed to place his gun down on the sideboard, relieved that his shaking hand hadn't set it off by accident. 

Taking another step towards him, then another, Emily shook her head again. "I was badly injured, but I didn't die, Don... But it was safer for me, for everyone, if people thought I had."  She stopped arm's length away from him and through the mist of his tears, he could see that she was crying too. "I didn't want to put you through that, I know what you went through when Jennifer died... but I didn't have a choice, Don, I'm so sorry..."

"If this is a dream..." he said, but he was pretty sure it wasn't. After all, he'd had dreams where she was alive, dreams where she appeared just like she had tonight. In none of those was she crying, in none of them was he. 

Emily smiled. "It's not a dream," she promised, closing the distance between them, reaching out and taking his face in her hands.  

That's when he knew that it definitely wasn't a dream, because her hands were warm against his skin and in all the dreams he'd ever dreamed of this moment, she'd never touched him. He'd always woken up just as she was about to. 

Her touch felt the same as always and this close, he could smell her perfume, the same one he'd brought her for her birthday because he knew it was her favourite. "It's not a dream," she said again and that's when the dam broke as a sob ripped from his throat and he pulled her into his arms, held her tightly as she sobbed just as hard.

It seemed a long time later that he pulled away from, looked down at a face that he thought he'd never see again. "You're alive." His voice sounded hoarse to his own ears and maybe she couldn't speak at all because she just nodded. "You're not going to disappear again?"

Emily shook her head. "It's a long story, but-"

"I don't care."

He stopped her with a kiss, a kiss that had a year's worth of hurt and pain and longing behind it. From the way she responded, he guessed that those emotions weren't exactly unrequited.

When he scooped her up in his arms, carried her towards the bedroom, he could feel her smile against his lips and he knew without a doubt that whatever she was going to say to him didn't matter.

She was home, and she was his. He didn't want anything more.  

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Gabriel/Sam and/or Dean/Castiel, sex in a church on the altar

Nothing's Sacred

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

((fucking ORGASMIC prompt, ILU))

"Look," he kept saying. "Even for you, this.. this is wrong."

But Sam didn't shy away from the intense press of kisses to his mouth. He didn't resist when Gabriel pushed him down onto the soft linen. The cloth, water-smooth against his back, was chilly from hours of lying out, abandoned. Above him stretched a thousand images in stone and glass, heroes and angels and ancient holy creatures. All cold. None like the warm body above him, laying him out like a sacrifice, taking him apart bit by bit.

"Of course it's wrong," Gabriel whispered in his ear, darting his tongue across his hairline and sucking on his earlobe. Sam groaned and pulled anxiously on his hips, needing the crush of weight to warm him. "That's why it's so much fun."

Sam ran his hand down the cleft of Gabriel's backside, and the angel atop him seized up and shuddered. When he looked down at Sam, his eyes had gone from playful stars to opaque black stones. He slammed his hips down against Sam's. "You're getting cocky," he murmured hotly. "Am I going to have to discipline you, Samuel?"

In answer, Sam twisted, sliding their cocks together with a hot, deliberate scrape that made Gabriel scrunch his eyes closed and moan. "I need discipline?" Sam smiled wryly. "You're the one who wanted to screw in a sacred place."

Gabriel's smile returned, and he lowered his mouth to Sam's, a long, melting kiss. "Nothing's sacred," he whispered. "Nothing."

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Sam/Gabriel, tie you down and have my will

kind of dark

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Sam tried not to look amused as Gabriel tied the thick ropes around Sam's wrists. He fastened them slowly, meticulously to the headboard with a large knot, leaving Sam naked and aroused and on display for him. Sam had been the one to ask him to try this. He was pleased that Gabriel was taking it so seriously.

But then, he didn't look completely serious. For one:

That smirk.

"I hope you appreciate that I did that by hand. I didn't have to, you know," Gabriel said.

"You didn't have to tie me down at all. We both know you don't need ropes," Sam pointed out.

"Sure I do," he answered, "I like tying you down. Having my way with you." His tone was, of course, sardonic, and Sam tried to piece out what was behind it. Need? Loneliness? Terrible boredom?

But all Sam said was, "I've noticed." He stretched against the ropes, feeling their weight. Gabriel must have known what this would do, the way this bondage, this sense of being owned would make Sam's head spin.

As if reading his mind, Gabriel snickered. He moved his hand down to Sam's prick but instead of rubbing it, he just splayed two fingers wide and gave a fast squeeze at the base. Sam let out a breath of air. Maybe it was a whimper.

"I planned this special for you, Sammy. Bondage. Pain. Punishment. And dirty talk. We are going to have so much fun."

Sam stared. He couldn't lie. Those were the things he wanted. But.

Sam had a suspicion that fun dominance games with Gabriel might be a little... intense.

Gabriel got right in his face and Sam leaned up to accept the kiss. But it wasn't a kiss.

Gabriel just grinned. He asked, "Remember how Ruby would talk to you, Sam?"

Sam closed his eyes. "Don't mention her while we-"

"She used to dirty talk the way only a hellgirl could. Hated her, but wow, just reading your memories of her makes me need some ice water! What's that thing she used to say?"

Sam was silent, face turned away from Gabriel's still-hovering sneer.

"Tell me what she used to say to you. When you were manhandling her, Sammy, when you two were about to go at it like weasels in heat."

"Fuck you," Sam spat.

"No, that's not it." Gabriel leaned over and let his breath go hot on Sam's ear, "Tell me what she said."

"You know what she said."

"I want to hear you say it," Gabriel said, "Let me hear it, Sammy."

Sam was silent.

"Fine. Time for punishment." A smile. Not good.

"Gabriel-" Sam said, worried.

"I've been looking into BDSM, since my Sammy likes it so much. I have a lot of ideas."

Sam felt a wave of relief. If it were just going to be things he saw in porn or in books, that would be fine.

Okay, a lot better than fine.

But Gabriel was still smiling. "So we start by talking about limits. Sam, what punishments do you think should be off the table for the boy who ended the world?"

Sam felt the blood drain from his face.

"None? Well, that seems fair to me," Gabriel answered. "Would you like a safeword?"

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Bobby/John (or Dean/Castiel or Sam/Gabriel, I'd really prefer Bobby/John thou), erotic asphyxiation

John/Bobby

[darkmagic-luvr.livejournal.com]

They were both slick with sweat. John on his back, naked, his chest heaving, his cock pressing against of this man, Bobby something, sitting on top of him, his equally naked thighs pressing against the hips of a man he didn't know. There was something dark in his eyes, something John recognized, something he appreciated when the other man's hands slid up his chest, sliding against sweat and thick muscle. John swallowed, his eyes remaining on Bobby's, even as the other man's hands moved past his line of vision and around his neck. John's cock twitched against Bobby's back, his thighs clenching as Bobby's thumbs pressed into his neck, cutting off his air supply.

He was lightheaded already with blood loss (nothing a few stitches and a B&E at the blood bank didn't fix) but the blood throbbing painfully between his legs had him seeing spots in seconds. John's hips bucked, not managing to throw Bobby off of him, not managing to loosen his grip. His eyelids fluttered, half closed. Bobby's wrist jerked, causing John's eyes to snap open.

"You look at me, damn it," growled Bobby, his accent sliding around his words and his tongue. Bobby tightened his hold around John's neck with one hand, and moved the other away, moving behind his back to find John's cock. Warm, calloused fingers gripped him at the base and firmly began stroking him (John was reminded vaguely of cocking a shotgun, the thought made him moan, his voice hoarse and different from his own).

The edges of John's vision darkened until all he could see was Bobby, one hand behind his back, getting him off and killing him all at once. He came in Bobby's hand, his vision darkening and finally blacking out.

Bobby watched the Winchester's head loll to the side and removed his hand from his neck. The other, coated in semen, released the length of flesh belonging to the other man, flexing his fingers and wiping cum off on the bed sheets. His own cock was painfully hard, but he ignored it (he could take care of himself later, with a bottle of whiskey and dark room), instead concentrating on the bruise along John's neck. Two fingers gingerly turned his chin to the side, to catch the light. He'd be fine.

At least, he'd live.


(this is set pre-pilot, when John's just started hunting. Hope you like it!)

[mulder200.livejournal.com]

SPN, Castiel/Dean, Tattooing Using Holy Oil

Holy Oil (part 1) - FRM (slash, tattoo/branding, blasphemy)

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

Hope this is even remotely what you wanted. :-)
--

The little motel room was well shielded with sigils placed around the walls in blood, human and angel mixing for the protection of both. Not much, just enough mixing in with holy oil and herbs to give the ancient spell the push of intent and power only the sacrifice of a little blood could provide. Though the air beyond the door was blue and well below freezing, inside, the small room all but shimmered in orange and gold; their shabby little home for the night lit by dozens of candles Dean had blessed with holy water and Castiel had anointed with holy oil.

Each standing facing the other, the copper bowl of oil held cupped in Cas's hands between them, Dean searched the blue eyes for any sign of misgiving, finding none as the candles flickered, bathing them in comforting warmth and shadows.

This was ritual; nothing more and certainly nothing less. Castiel had saved him by pulling him up and lending him sanctuary from Hell; Dean was going to do the same for him by welcoming him down and giving him sanctuary from Heaven. *They* had cast the angel adrift; Dean planned on giving him an anchor he could hold on to.

Next door, Dean knew that Gabriel was doing the same for Sam; shoring up the weak points, trading weakness for strength. He had a sneaking suspicion that it would involve blood and, if he were honest with himself, he really didn't want to know the details.

Castiel felt he no longer belonged to Heaven; his prayers and pleas ignored by those he once and still called family. Dean could relate.

Dean took his time, unknotting the dark tie the angel wore like a noose around his neck, separating and pulling the ends apart, and letting them dangle as his fingers slowly opened the white accountant's dress shirt. One button at a time, Dean undressed him, his hands lingering down at his stomach until he tugged once, Cas jerking at the unexpected force as Dean pulled the shirt from his pants. Undoing the last couple of buttons, he left it on.

Hanging open on the slender body like the suit jacket, strands of tie and the trenchcoat Cas wore, it all framed the lean expanse of the pale chest, lending the angel an air of vulnerability beyond the dignity Dean hadn't expected. He swallowed, a fierce surge of protectiveness welling up at the simple gesture of the angel just standing still and serene for him, allowing himself to be bared for Dean's claim. If he hadn't felt the tremors in himself, he would have missed them in Cas...

Cas offered him the bowl before Dean could make more than a tentative, abortive move to touch.

Dean met his eyes, green and blue holding, as he dipped his fingers in the bowl. They didn't need sigils for this to work; like Casiel's, Dean's handprint would be statement enough to set the intent. Anchor. Protection. Possession.

Mine.

[mulder200.livejournal.com]

SPN, Gabriel/Sam, Bloodplay

Untitled short snip - FRM

[hawk-dancing.livejournal.com]

It's not so much that he needs this anymore; more along the lines that he's willing to give him this. The want, the craving, it's muted now, never quite gone but so much easier to ignore now that Lucifer is gone and the apocalypse is again just an ugly, amorphous idea who's time is any time but right now.

And he's babbling. Maybe he's more scared of this than he thought. Afraid of awakening the hunger, or the shame. The weakness, knowing he'll give in in eventually. That he won't be able to stop himself. He hadn't before, and look where that had brought them.

But the eyes that stare down into his aren't the cold, shining hunger of Ruby's. They're warmer; still brown but with green and gold and something that's the opposite side of otherworldly that she had been. Gabriel may smirk and run roughshod over his life, making him miserable, scared and confused by turns, but there was something in the archangel that Sam found calming; some rock he could grab on to and know that no wind would ever knock him off it.

Even naked and needing like this, Sam had never let Ruby tie him up.

When the thumb that brushed gently over his lips brought the angel's blood with it, Sam swallowed, loosened his tongue, and willingly took a taste.

[misura.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Peter Burke/Neal Caffrey(/Elizabeth Burke), phone sex

And er shouldn't "[tag=RPS]" be ""[tag=kink]"?

[oteap.livejournal.com]

Being Human, George/Mitchell, barebacking

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Terminator:SCC, John/Derek, any

[daria234.livejournal.com]

CWRPS, Jensen/Jeff or Misha, pain and pleasure

[daria234.livejournal.com]

White Collar, Peter/Neal, discipline and punish

[daria234.livejournal.com]

SPN, Dean/Ellen, hair-pulling

[daria234.livejournal.com]

Dollhouse, Tony/Priya/anyone, roleplay

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, tie up & tease w/eventual consummation

[sycophantastic.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel, shower sex, slightly rough (no outright violence)

this got looong

[tiptoe39.livejournal.com]

((I started to write this as a hella dark punishment thing but then I decided I needed to just write fun rough sex. Hope it's Ok.

Goddamn, but they're sweaty.

And grimy, and covered with blood and dirt and all kinds of crap that Dean doesn't even want to imagine. His heart's pumping and he's grinning like an idiot and holy shit does he ever need a shower.

Sam's long since learned the signs that he should really let Dean and Castiel have their alone time; he's gone out to order them a very slow-baking pizza while the two of them "clean off." Dean's not sure he likes the way Sam says those two words. But he's too winded and sweaty to complain.

He's stripping off his wet clothes as he goes; Castiel just blinks and they're gone, like I Dream of fucking Jeannie (which, incidentally, Dean did quite a bit during junior high). Cas is joining him in the shower because Cas wants to be with him, not because he needs washing off or anything. He can twitch his nose and get Angel Fresh. But then he wouldn't get to rub his hands all over Dean, and that would be a waste of magical powers.

They're wrapped around each other, kissing, as they step into the shower. The blood's pumping through Dean everywhere, not just in his cock although that's getting a heavy dose. The tips of his fingers are tingling. Endorphins and adrenaline from the fight are filling him with a haze of pleasure. And Cas feels fucking amazing, like something out of a Roman museum, marble and hot skin.

Castiel bites his neck hungrily, cups his ass in two hands and pulls him in tight. They mold against each other perfectly. Only water can make its way between their two bodies; nothing else can fit. "Want." One word. Castiel's voice is the growl of a dog.

"Wash me first." Dean steps back, scoops up the soap and tosses it to Cas. He raises his arms, grins. "C'mon, make me clean before we get all dirty again."

"You're killing me." Spoken so damned cleanly, seriously, deadpan. Even though nothing could kill the man who says it, certainly not delayed gratification. Dean appreciates the irony. It's one of those moments that reminds him that he doesn't just want Cas, he needs him. Cas brings humor to the dark parts of his life and purpose to the parts that seem empty. He grins and beckons with one finger.

Cas soaps him up hastily, down arms and chest, and Dean's jaw tilts back so the water runs down over his face. This is bliss, this is heaven, and anyone who says otherwise is a damn fool. Including the angels who live there. Who needs paradise? He has an angel lathering him up with soap and heated glances. There's nothing else to need.

(to be continued)

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Bobby/John, ritual sex involving bondage

[theeverdream.livejournal.com]

Stargate Atlantis, John/Rodney, the control chair

[kijikun.livejournal.com]

Supernatural, Dean/Castiel and/or Sam/Gabriel, put you over my knee

Over my Knee

[lylithj2.livejournal.com]

Cas popped into the Winchester’s motel room, right into the middle of a fight. The last remark he heard from Dean made the angel blush. It was cold and cruel. He watched as Sam’s face flushed and then turned into a mask of fury.

“Fine, Dean! If that’s how you feel, we should have stayed apart. Just tell me, and I’m gone,” Sam yelled.

Before Dean could say another word, Cas pulled a chair into the middle of the room and sat down. The action startled both brothers who looked at him in curiosity.

Cas felt confident he could handle this situation. He’d been watching human interaction closely lately. He found it all so fascinating and wanted to learn more about them. He’d recently seen a father dealing with his sons’ fighting. Yes, Cas knew just what to do.

“Come here, Dean.” His voice was soft but very stern. Dean looked at him in confusion but slowly walked towards the angel.

“You and your brother must learn to work and live together. Speaking to him in such a manner is wrong. Over my knee, now.”

Dean looked at Cas with a mix of horror, amusement, and something the angel didn’t understand. He didn’t move though.

“Now, Dean,” Cas repeated, his voice much stronger.

Dean dropped over Cas’ knee gracefully, balancing awkwardly on the slightly smaller man. Cas could feel Dean’s rock hard abs across his tights, and the man’s entire body trembling.

“Dean, this is going to hurt you worse then it does me,” Cas said, repeating what he’d heard the father tell one of his sons. He pulled down Dean’s sweats and boxers revealing perfect, pale, round globes.

When the first slap causes both Dean and Sam to hiss, Cas looked at Sam for the first time. Sam was biting his fist. Sam must be worried about receiving his own punishment.

“Do not worry, Samuel. You will not be punished. Your brother must learn to control his temper.”

The second, third and forth slap landed in quick succession. Dean gasped with each one. By the fifth and sixth slap, Dean was squirming.

When the tenth blow came, Dean groaned “Please.”

“Are you ready to apologize to your brother, Dean?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, Sammy,” Dean groaned.

“Then you may get up,” Cas said as he pulled Dean’s clothing back over his red bottom.

When Dean straightened, Cas was surprised to see Dean’s face wet with tears. He’d not hit Dean very hard and had seen his friend gravely injured before and hardly affected.

“Now, I expect you two to work out your problems,” Cas said.

“Umm…Yeah…” Sam said, his voice slightly giggly. “I think you have your own new problems now, Cas. I’m going to go out and have a beer or six. See you two later.”

When the hotel door slammed, Cas could hear Sam howling in laughter. He looked back up at Dean puzzled.

“Why did your brother…” Was all Cas was able to say before he found Dean on his knees in front of him, pulling him into a deep kiss.

When they finally broke the kiss, Cas began to realize that spanking didn’t quite have the same results on Dean Winchester as it did on others…

Author’s Note: I write wincest…that’s pretty much it…So I wrote this as wincest and then realized you were SO not that kind of fan after I peeked at your journal…So I tweaked it back into Cas/Dean!
For anyone who would care to read the original version, you can go here to my journal:
Over my Knee (http://lylithj2.livejournal.com/9003.html)