Disclaimer: Not mine. This is a good thing.
Notes: This was written for the SPN kink meme over at blindfold_spn. I've polished it up a little since its original posting. The prompt: Dean/Castiel, one of Castiel's hands is a crab claw. This originated here.
It had been a bit of a surprise when it first appeared, sure. A little freaky, even. But Dean's insistent questions only managed to drag mumbled responses from Castiel, in which Dean could barely make out the words "grace" and "divinity" and "stupid Uriel", and it became apparent the problem wasn't gonna go away, so he got used to it. After all, weirder things had happened in Dean's life than his gay angel lover suddenly replacing his right hand with a ginormous crab claw. Probably.
After a while, the claw stopped being unattractive to Dean. And a while after that, it started to seem... sexy. They'd been rolling around in bed, Castiel flat on his back with his crab claw politely stretched to the side and Dean straddling his hips, and then when he came, his mouth opened and his back arched and the crab claw snapped shut twice, claspclasp. Dean chalked it up to a fluke when the sound alone had him throwing his head back and coming all over his own stomach. He realized it had to be a little more than that, though, when things were getting steamy the next time, Castiel pushing into Dean from behind, and the crab claw bit into the pillow beside Dean's head and suddenly he was blind with lust. That's when he got the idea.
"Melted butter," Dean announced to Castiel.
"Melted butter," Castiel repeated, doing that quizzical I-am-very-confused tilt of his head thing. The crab claw twitched at his side.
"And lemon juice." Dean had a whole bag of supplies. He set it on the table and the furrow in Castiel's brow deepened, the severity of the crease in direct proportion to the breadth of the landscape of bewilderment he was lost in. Didn't matter. They were having fun tonight.
In the end, Dean made a whole pot of melted-butter-and-lemon-juice. He painted stripes on Castiel's crab claw and licked them off. It didn't taste a whole lot like a crab dinner and the texture was rough and bumpy under his tongue, but that was all made up for by the way it moved and shuddered and snapped, the reverberations thrumming all the way to his dick, and by the way Castiel moaned when he slurped at the rubbery white tissue at the joint. The crab claw trembled with the effort not to close and scythe Dean's nose right off, and later they used to the leftover melted-butter-and-lemon-juice to lube Dean up, so yeah, maybe the development wasn't bad at all.
Dean was blowing Castiel in a stall in a men's restroom - everyone has to be cliche sometimes, he'd figured, and dragged Cas in - and Castiel's hand came down to rest in Dean's hair. He pushed it away and a moment later, it was replaced by the crab claw. The claw was too big to get a hold of Dean's hair, and instead it gripped his entire forehead. He could feel the jagged edges leaving imprints on his skin. He sucked ever the more enthusiastically and the crab claw tightened just enough to hurt when Castiel shouted out and came.
Castiel got into the habit of fastening his crab claw onto Dean's body during sex. Dean's thigh was a favorite part, as was his upper arm, right below the scar that Cas had left back when he still had two hands. One time Castiel forgot himself and clasped Dean's neck in his claw, and damn, that didn't last long but it was hot. Castiel was usually very careful and gentle with the crab claw, but sometimes his control slipped and Dean had thin lines of blood where the claw had punctured his skin. Castiel was always mortified. Dean secretly liked those nights best.
They were in Montana fighting demons when one got the jump on Castiel. Normally, Castiel took demons out with a few controlled punches and the holy palm-to-the-forehead maneuver, keeping his bulky crab claw tucked up by his stomach. This time, though, the crab claw came up with ferocious speed and strength, locking onto the demon's neck and keeping it in place as Castiel burned it from its host. Dean almost let a demon gank him because he was too busy staring, and then almost let the same demon gank him again, because he was too busy sporting wood.
"Your relationship is an inexcusable distraction," Uriel boomed at them after the battle was over.
"Our relationship is none of your business," Dean said. Castiel raised his crab claw and clicked it in Uriel's direction, with vague disapproval.
"It will be the end of you both," said Uriel.
"No," Castiel disagreed, mildly, "Lilith will most likely be the end of us both," and he dragged the tip of his crab claw down Dean's spine. Dean shivered, and when he looked up, Uriel was staring at him, and at Castiel, and at Castiel's crab claw, which still had a bit of rope from the previous night's shenanigans stuck to it. Dean grinned unabashedly. Not too long after, Uriel requested reassignment. Dean didn't really understand it. Even if you didn't go for Castiel's charming personality, who wanted to be separated from the hot guy with the crab claw?
They used like an entire tube of KY to get the crab claw slick enough that Dean felt safe putting his dick anywhere near that thing, even though it had been his idea in the first place. It took a few minutes to get Castiel's claw to exactly the right position, so it was open enough that Dean wouldn't hurt himself but also closed enough that he could still get some friction.
"I am not sure this will be comfortable, Dean," Castiel said dubiously.
"Don't worry," Dean assured him. "It'll be just like skullfucking."
"Like what?" Castiel looked scandalized.
"Not that I've ever done any skullfucking myself," Dean said. "I mean. That's gross. I do have access to plenty of skulls - but I've read things. On the Internet." Dean saw that Castiel was beginning to slide back into that place of deep confusion, so he sighed and got to the point: "Just don't chop my wang off with your claw, dude. You know I love your claw but there are some parts of myself I'm not ready to sacrifice."
He pushed into the lubed-up hole formed by the crab claw's two pincers. The sensation was indescribable, rough and wet and hard all at the same time, and Dean was soon fucking into it with abandon, one hand braced on the wall and the other on Castiel's shoulder. Castiel just knelt there, in the bed with Dean, crab claw extended and held steady at hip level, the expression on his face one of bemusement. Maybe arousal, too, a little. But mostly bemusement. His eyebrows shot up when Dean came, the white of his ejaculate spattering the muted orange of the crab claw, like he was surprised, like he'd never seen that before. Dean shook his head as he reached for Castiel's groin. Dean loved the guy, but Cas was still a freak.
After the war, Castiel and Dean sat on the hood of the Impala, parked on the edge of the Grand Canyon, staring into the sunset, Sammy curled up and asleep in the backseat. At some point during the hours they remained there, almost as still as if they, too, were carved from stone, Dean's fingers had somehow entangled themselves with Castiel's. He felt Castiel give a slight squeeze and looked over at him, smiled. Dean raised his beer can in a salute, and by his side, Castiel lifted his up too. Then he accidentally crushed his can in his giant freaking crab claw, and beer sprayed everywhere. Dean blinked it out of his eyes; Castiel was grinning sheepishly. He raised his crab claw again, off to the side, like an orange flag of freakdom.