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Characters: Castiel, Dean, Hannah mentioned
Pairings: Dean/Castiel
Summary: Even bad wolves can be good. Very good.
A/N: Despite how it looks at the beginning all proceedings are 100% consensual from both parties involved.
Dean’s not a human looking SPN werewolf, he’s more a werewolf like George on Being Human. The werewolf virus is only spread by a bite. Because, of course, I think about all this shit for a tiny little ficlet. The sex happens while Dean is in human form. (I know, I know, I’m totally boring.) There is the beginnings of wolfing out and a small mention of blood.
The title and Dean's first words to Castiel come from the Sam the Sham & the Pharoahs song Lil' Red Riding Hood.
“This is ridiculous.” Castiel grumbled; pushing rain soaked hair off his forehead. As if being out in the middle of the woods a little over an hour before the full moon wasn’t bad enough.
No, now it’d decided to start pouring out of nowhere.
He continued walking, failing miserably at sticking to the path that’d become washed out in places; when a noise somewhere off to his left caught his attention.
Castiel didn’t have time to do anything more than try and brace himself as running footfalls came from behind and he was knocked to the ground, the other body never losing contact on the way down.
He tried to disentangle himself when ragged breaths huffed across his neck and strong fingers dug at the layers of his clothes.
“Dammit.” Castiel grunted; hand slipping in the mud as he grasped for purchase.
Teeth gripped the nape of his neck and he immediately stilled. He knew a warning when given one and a bite that broke skin was the last thing he needed.
The low growl that accompanied turned into a deep chuckle, hot and damp against Castiel’s ear as determined hands continued to clawed at his jeans.
“Whatcha doing in these spooky old woods alone?”
The question’s teasing was lost in another growl as Castiel levered up and flipped over, only to land ungracefully on his back.
The chase, the capture, the claiming. All helped Dean quell the burning need brought on by the moon and usually Castiel didn’t mind.
If he was being honest, he reveled in it himself.
But as Castiel stared at his lover’s familiar figure he knew there’d be no convincing Dean that any other place would be better for these things than the saturated forest around them.
Even with the blistering wind and rain, Dean had at some point during his pursuit shed every last bit of his clothes; his broad, strong frame seemingly unaffected by the cold. His hair wet and spiky with the mud that also covered his hands and was streaked across one cheekbone and his chest.
He looked absolutely wild as he bent over Castiel’s supine body. Green eyes that were mischievous on a good day now held something almost feral.
Before Castiel could say anything, try to calm the fierceness they held, Dean was on him again.
While tongue trailed over his pulse point and the werewolf rutted against him with determination, Castiel struggled to get his trench coat off his shoulders. His clothes were beyond waterlogged, but he knew what came next and there was no way his bare ass was touching the soggy ground.
Just as he got situated, an impatient tug from Dean had his pants ripping.
And that is why he planned ahead.
Castiel was glad he’d left while Hannah was out doing research for their latest case. Thankfully, not one even remotely werewolf related. He’d taped a note to the mirror beside the TV and promised to be back as soon as possible.
His sister didn’t need to know the reason why he had made sure to wear a ratty, beyond their shelf life pair of jeans. And she definitely didn’t need to know that her twin had prepped himself with slick fingers in their motel bathroom before he left to meet up with the same type of creature they regularly hunted; knowing there wouldn’t be time for such things later.
That point was proven when his knees were pushed against his chest with a snarl of “Mine. Mate.” as Dean pressed into him.
“Fuck.” Castiel yelped; locking arms over the werewolf’s freckled shoulders and legs around his waist to give himself time to adjust.
“It’s like Pon Farr.” Dean had joked a few months prior when the pair had met up while Castiel and Hannah were on a hunt for a rugaru. “Except ya’ know once a month instead of every seven years.”
“Dean.” Castiel soothed; thumbing drool off his lover’s bottom lip as he stared at Castiel with glassy eyes. A low whine escaped Dean’s throat as his hips hitched desperately and ineffectively.
Castiel relaxed his hold and pulled Dean closer, licking at his panting mouth until some of the haziness fell away and he smiled feebly.
“Heya, Cas.”
“We’re good.” Castiel nodded as he deepened the kiss, clinging to the other man as his stunted movements began to pick up.
Words, ‘Yes. Cas.’ devolved into growls as Dean erratically plunged into Castiel’s willing body.
Castiel quickly adapted, meeting the frantic pace and countering with purposeful rolls of his own hips.
As the trees around them darkened with the loss of sunlight Dean’s thrust became harder, shoving Castiel up the length of his coat.
The hunter dug fingers into the sodden forest floor, crying out as Dean hit his prostate repeatedly as he drove into him. Hands pushing Castiel’s legs further apart; the werewolf wanting deeper, rougher, everything.
Castiel’s chant of Dean was cut off with an abrupt moan as nails that had been blunt when they’d first tumbled to the ground, sunk sharply into the flesh of his thick thighs and Castiel’s back bowed off the ground as he came with a shout.
The scent of the blood trickling down the hunter’s skin mixed with his release only sent Dean into more of a frenzy, yanking Castiel closer by the waist; the werewolf’s hips snapped relentlessly until he threw his head back and came with a guttural howl that was no longer fully human.
Castiel kept still, legs bracketing Dean as he panted and shivered above him.
Castiel could already see the changes in Dean’s body; hair sprouting all over, limbs lengthening. Eyes that were now bright yellow instead of green, held Castiel’s gaze intently as Dean bent low to sniff curiously at him before wordlessly moving off of him and out of the clearing they occupied and into a nearby copse of trees.
As the moon, full and large rose to it’s peak in the sky, Dean’s screams of pain began, echoing all around the trees and sending birds flying from their roosts. But Castiel wasn’t afraid; which most would say was foolhearted, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been with Dean while he went through the change and afterward and no harm had ever come to him.
They were mates, Dean had repeatedly said and Castiel had believed.
So he would just sit patiently where he was and wait.
