Mar. 12th, 2009

the_impala_kid: (knife kink)
It's what Circe would call a "playroom", but Dean just calls it his office. His own little bit of paradise in the dungeons, where he takes those that Sam wants broken extra special and works them over, tears them down to their core and then slowly, relentlessly, and joyful chips away at what's left inside them until it's nothing but shards. It's both his work and his passion, and Sam never fails but to give him the best material to work with.

Like now.

Like the angel.

He tosses Castiel down onto the worktable, clamping shackles tight around his wrists and ankles, smiling down at him, letting his eyes bleed black. "Too late, flyboy." He caresses the angel's cheek, letting his hand drift down over his shoulder, toying with his nipple through his torn shirt. "I'm not goin' anywhere."

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the_impala_kid

March 2010

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