Sweet Serenity

My Poetry

Cas needs more. He doesn’t remember the last time he had some. The addiction niggles at the back of his mind, trying to push its way forward, trying to take over his struggle for control.

“Dean, I’m out of froot loops, I need some more,” he finally blurts.

Dean glances at him. “Not really the best of times, Cas.”
They’re hunting a Wendigo somewhere in the middle of a forest; surrounded by tall evergreen pine trees and sharp branches that brush out to scrape them everywhere they walk, and Cas tries to quash the thought back down to it’s hidey hole, but it’s too late.
“Ever since you became a human, I dunno man, this weird obsession for froot loops you got has just become weirder and weirder. “

Cas knows that if he were in a better state of mind and not suffering from sugar withdrawal he could probably think clearly enough to form a proper response. However he is suffering from sugar withdrawal, and he draws short, irritation setting deep within his bones.

“Dean, I know you have some. Give me some.”

“Wow, that’s super romantic, Cas. Who knew?” He mocks, eyes wide.

Dean stops to face Cas. They’ve stopped by an exceptionally high tree, the canopy swaying above them gently in the breeze. The glint of moonlight reflects off the surface of a lake nearby and Cas watches as Dean scans the area wearily, checking for any signs of the Wendigo.

“I’m serious, Dean. Give me more froot loops now or-“

“Or what?” Dean smirks.

“Or this” he growls.

Cas shoves Dean back against the tree, grabbing for the rope they’d taken to tie up the Wendigo. Dean half stumbles back, not expecting the sudden change in mood.

“Dude what are you doing?!”

“Getting my froot loops!”

Cas quickly wraps the rope around Deans middle, trapping his arms as he tightly winds it around, then knots it behind the back of the tree.

“Cas, man, you’re freaking me out! I don’t have any damned froot loops, I swear!”

“Not good enough,” Cas purrs.

Cas feels a swell of power vibrating within his being and he thrusts his hands down Dean’s front pockets, searching for the froot loops he knows will be there. His hand finds what feels like a small plastic bag, and he draws it out, revealing a handful of froot loops contained inside.

He leans in close to Dean.

“I trusted you.”

Then what happens next is not what he meant to happen, not at all. He can’t remember what he meant to happen now though, as his mouth is busy tasting deans tongue, too busy savoring the sweet flavor of froot loops that Dean had apparently eaten earlier.

Dean shoves his body foward in an attempt to get away and Cas pulls back reluctantly, unwilling to let go of the pleasurable tang settling on his tongue.

“Cas, what the actual hell?” Dean breathes.
“I-I don’t know, it just tasted nice,” he stuttered, coming to his senses.
“Do it again.”

“A-are you sure?”


Cas tosses the bag of froot loops on the muddy ground and resumes his probing of Dean’s tongue. The sensation hits him like a freight train and he moans, rubbing himself against Dean as his sudden erection rages hard.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he mumbles into Dean’s warm mouth.

“Let me go and I’ll show you.”

Cas undoes the rope tying Dean against the tree and Dean breaks free, switching places so now Cas is the one who’s backed against the tree. The harsh bark cuts deep into his back and his errection grows harder, anticipation too great.

Dean nips at his neck lightly and reaches between them to rub against the thin material separating Cas’ throbbing flesh. Cas arches back against the rough surface of the tree as Dean’s hands bring out a need in him he didn’t know existed.

“More,” he pleads.

Dean strips Cas’ pants and underwear, removing the last strips of cloth separating flesh from flesh. Dean wraps him in his hand, and shock goes through Cas like electricity.

“Dean, please,” he pants.

Dean rubs harder, his soft lips now back at his mouth, kneading, teasing. Cas feels like he’s going to explode. His body is in flames and he shouts out, unable to hold on any longer. Dean chuckles darkly against his ear as he comes, his breath hot against his lips.

“Bet this is better than froot loops,” Dean breathes, and Cas slumps against him, his body leaving behind the final throes of spasms.

“Only if you eat them first,” Cas promises.



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