Author's Note: So here is MY confession. I have a Priest!Destiel kink. I share it with holymisha on Tumblr and she is my Priest!Destiel kink buddy and god do I love her for it.

Warnings: Thoughts from characters of homosexuality being wrong, blasphemy, priest!smut etc etc. All that jazz.

I do not own Supernatural or any of its characters.

Dean bit his lip furiously; his teeth dug in so hard that he could taste the metallic tinge of blood trickle across his tongue. The Sunday pamphlet was crinkling in his tense hand, and he couldn't stop it from shaking. Deep below, in the pit of his abdomen, a fire was roaring like the flames of hell, which he knew was where he was going, and he had to draw his legs in tighter to try to subdue his inevitable erection. Father Castiel was preparing the bread and wine for communion, but Dean allowed the words he was saying to float right through his ears. He was far too busy concentrating on the way the Father was using his hands - running a gentle fingertip around the rim of the gleaming silver cup. Dean gulped, causing his Adam's Apple to click embarrassingly loudly. He was having images of where those fingers could go and what they could do, given the chance. True enough, the crotch of his black pants tightened, and he hissed under his breath. He had to go up for communion in a minute. This was not good. Not good at all. Father Castiel's voice rung out into the vastness of the church, deep and penetrating. Dean licked his lips. Yep. He was going to hell.

The service continued in a blur.
"This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world. Happy are those who are called to his supper." Father Castiel smiled as his arms opened wide. Communion. Crap. Meaning Dean had to stand. The congregation responded harmoniously.
"Lord, I am not worthy to receive you, but only say the word and I shall be healed."
Dean couldn't help but scoff the last few words. He wasn't getting healed. Not now, not ever. He was an abomination. His was a sin so damn deep that even the whole holy host of Heaven's angels wouldn't be able to carve it out of him.
This wasn't just a petty crush. Dean had moved to the town two years previously, and coming from a strict religious background, it was just routine for him to attend church every Sunday. For the first few months in town, the priest had been an old guy with grey fuzz splaying from his drooping ears. Dean came and left the service like it was any other. But one Sunday, there was a new kid. A recently ordained priest who was shadowing Father Edmund until he retired. Dean met him after the service that Sunday. A quiet, shy man who politely held conversation with the elderly women who cooed over him. Their eyes met from across the room; Father Castiel's full of pleading to relieve him from the women's pawing. Dean merely chuckled and shrugged. He put his thumb up and Father Castiel glared, then began laughing and managed to excuse himself from his admirer's.
"Get in there, man," Dean giggled, and Father Castiel smirked.
"I must say, it was rather flattering." Dean had not heard his voice properly yet. It was very deep, and it rocked through Dean's skin right to the bone. And then Dean got a good look at his eyes. They were almost like two crystal orbs floating in a -
"Are...you okay?"
Dean, what the fuck, dude. You're thinking these things about a guy? No. That's not right. Father Castiel cocked his head to the side. If Dean was still in the mind-set he had been a few seconds before, he would have called it cute.
"Uh...nothing. I'm...I'm Dean Winchester." They shook hands warmly. Dean had to fight the idea that screamed in his brain that their hands fit together perfectly.
"Castiel."
"Like...the angel?" Father Castiel nodded.
"The very one. It's embarrassing really. Everyone picks up on it."
"No no no! It's a lovely name."
'Lovely'? 'Lovely'? Since when has Dean ever said that word in his life? But he swore he saw a faint blush dapple on Father Castiel's cheeks.
"Um, thank you Dean. That's a kind thing to hear. So...how long have you been attending St. Lawrence's?" Relieved that the topic changed, Dean smiled wider.
"About five months now. Ever since I moved to this town. Every Sunday," he added proudly.
"Good to hear! Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Dean. But I'm afraid I have to go and mingle with the rest of this lot." He jerked his thumb towards the swelling crowd, and bid Dean goodbye. Dean stared after him, his mouth agape. He felt...strange.

Little did he know that that was just the beginning.

Every Sunday after the service, Dean and Father Castiel would chat comfortably about their week. It was pleasant and solid - Dean always knew he had someone he could talk to. They learnt a lot about each other. When Sam came to visit for a weekend, he introduced them on the Sunday. The lawyer-in-training brother of his shook the priest's hand firmly and they hit it off instantly, talking about soccer scores, of all things.
"He's a cool guy," Sam mused as they stroll back towards Dean's apartment. Dean just smiled.

Now it's been two years, and Father Castiel and Dean's friendship is recognised amongst the church-goers. Best friends, they were called. Which of course they were. They met all the time during the week, for chats and coffee and things. Dean loved spending time with him. Dean had managed to hide his desire for Father Castiel, but during the past few weeks, for some reason, it had been harder and harder to control. He was noticing things more. About Father Castiel. His jaw line. His hands. His neck. His lips. And just how much he did enjoy his company.
The congregation began piling towards the altar. Dean glanced down. Yep. There it was. Obvious as the sun in the sky through the stained glass windows. Dean held his hands together over himself and shuffled up the aisle. He'd never been more self-aware. He reached the front and knelt down. He had to put his hands out to take the bread. Or...or he could just hold his mouth open. Some of the older and younger people did that. And Father Castiel would put the bread in their mouths...
A robe stopped before him. He glanced up and saw Father Castiel staring down at him. Oh well this position to be in was just torture anyway. Dean opened his mouth, and Father Castiel faltered before placing the bread into it. Ugh, Dean just wanted to close his lips around those fingers...Their eyes met. If Father Castiel could read minds, Dean was in deep deep shit. But then he continued on, and after the wine, Dean pigeon-toed back to his pew. This couldn't go on. He needed to tell someone about this. But the only person he could tell...and so it meant something...was the priest of his church. Who just so happened to be the object of his sin. He could tell Sam, but he figured he'd do that when he finally figured out what to do with himself.

The service ended, and for the first time without valid reason, Dean didn't stick around. Instead, be crossed the street and grabbed a coffee. He went home. He did his paperwork. He paced. He had a shower. He paced. Later that evening, he walked up to the big oak doors of St. Lawrence's Church. He was sure it was just Father Castiel inside. It would only be him at this hour.

The church was empty. He must have been in the back room. Dean took the opportunity to dive into the confession box and draw the curtain. He let out a shaking breath, and rang the bell.

It took a few minutes before he heard noise on the other side of the wooden wall.
"What have you come to confess?"
Dean's lower body writhed at the gravelly voice of Father Castiel.
"Hey there, Father. I don't wanna bother you, but I've got a sin to confess." Dean breathed heavily. This was it. Would Father Castiel recognise his voice? He hoped not.
"Tell me."
"I've tried so hard not to feel the way I do, but I'm in love with someone." It all came out rushed. Now he felt awkward.
A chuckle.
"Love isn't a sin. It's a beautiful thing which you need to embrace."
"...That's what I'm doing right now."
Father Castiel went to speak, but then paused.
"...What do you mean?" came an almost whisper-like reply.
"This isn't the good love, Father. This is the love that we learn is wrong in every way. The love that can't possibly be real love. The love that sends you to hell." Dean choked the last sentence. There was no way Father Castiel didn't know it was him.
"I...It says in the Bible that you can't feel this wa-"
"It says I shouldn't. Not that I can't. I can't fight this feeling any longer. But I'm still afraid to let it show."
"I can't believe you're quoting song lyrics at a time like this, Dean." The tone was exasperated and relaxed for a second. Then he obviously realised he'd let slip Dean's name. "Oh...uh...sorry. I..."
"It's okay, Father."
"...Call me Castiel." Dean stops short. After all this time, he never asked him to call him just by his first name. Dean hadn't even thought about calling him by just his first name. What?
"What?"
"Dean...you need to...forget these feelings. I can cleanse you. Help you. Work you through this."
"I don't wanna be cleansed," Dean growled gutturally. "I wanna be dirty." It hit him what he had said. "Oh shit I didn't mean that like that oh god oh shit sorry I just said 'oh god' and fuck man just forget it I'm leaving." He tore back the curtain and stormed down the aisle. A hand clasped around his shoulder. It felt like it was burning through to his skin. Scalding the hand print onto his flesh.
"Dean I can help you. You need to be saved." Dean span around, and the hand left his shoulder. The disconnection made him feel colder. Lonelier.
"Castiel, this is one thing I can't be saved from. You'll never stop me feeling like this. And the worst part of it all? Is that I feel it for you. I lov-" A finger landed on his lips.
"Don't say it. You can't...you can't...! You'll ruin everything. Everything I've worked for. Tried to save myself tried to be better tried to not-" He himself was cut off by Dean's finger on his lips. His eyes are glistening. He's fighting something inside. Dean can tell. And he knows what. Dean used his other hand to remove Castiel's finger from his lips.
"Why are you talking about yourself, when we were talking about me? How long have you kept this bottled away? Dammit Cas, answer me!" The nickname made them both blush.
"Because I would be a disgrace to not only my family, not only my church, not only my religion, but also to myself," Castiel said against his finger. His hot breath against it made Dean shudder.
"You can never be a disgrace. But don't...don't deny who you are. That's more of a disgrace than anything."
"Dean...I need you to leave," Castiel murmured, looking away and stepping from Dean's finger. Dean felt a pang of hurt in his chest. Castiel stared deep into his eyes one final time before spinning on his heel and stalking up the aisle towards the altar.
"I love you!" The words echoed against the high arched ceiling, bouncing across the walls and resonating in Castiel's ear drums. Dean had had to say it. And as it slipped from his tongue he felt like he was ridding himself of so many problems. Castiel froze where he stood.
"Please...don't..." Castiel didn't turn. But his back clearly tensed. Dean walked forwards slowly. Castiel didn't move. Dean stopped right behind him. His hand reached out, but paused just before his fingertips brushed Castiel's back.
"Tell me to stop."
Dean leant in, and pressed his lips against Castiel's neck. His hands gripped his hip bones, and he swirled his tongue up behind the priest's ear.
"Dean," Castiel let out in a ragged breath, "we're in God's house. This is so...so..."
"...dirty," Dean moaned into his skin, and it was like someone flipped a switch inside of Castiel at that moment. He span around in Dean's arms and pulled their mouths together in a desperate, messy kiss, his hands clutching behind Dean's head. Their tongues smashed into one another and they both fought for dominance, staggering towards the altar. Cas' hands gripped Dean's hair as he tried to hold him impossibly closer. His back came in contact with the altar, and Dean had him pinned.
"Dean," he sighed, breaking the kiss but bringing his mouth to Dean's ear. "Dean, what if someone walks in?" Dean pressed his nose in the shell of Castiel's ear.
"Then we give them one hell of a sermon."
This made Cas' eyes roll back in pleasure, and Dean took the opportunity to lift Cas and prop him on the edge of the altar. He stepped between the open legs and captured those wet lips once again, pushing his throbbing bulge into Castiel's, who whimpered into his mouth. He held his arms under Castiel's knees, but the stupid black cassock was getting in the way. He just wanted to tear it off.
"Cas, take the damn dress off," he begged.
"It's not a dress-"
"Shut up and help me unbutton it."
They worked at the buttons and eventually it fell off of Cas' shoulders, knocking over the open bible and the stand it was on. They ignored this, however, and Dean began to unbutton the black dress shirt he was hiding beneath. Cas wasted no time with Dean's shirt, because he literally ripped it off, with buttons flying everywhere. Dean didn't care. They were both half naked now, writhing against each others sweaty chests. Dean spotted the white clerical collar on the altar and put it back around Cas' neck.
"What-"
"I think I have a kink for your collar," Dean admitted before he latched his lips onto Cas' jugular, biting down softly with his teeth. Having Castiel - a religious preacher - squirming under his touch...it was more a turn on than Dean had thought it would be for him. Dean couldn't hold back any longer. He wrenched Cas' pants down and threw them somewhere he didn't care about. The sight of Cas' cock pleading through his boxer material made Dean drop to his knees and pull Castiel with him. Cas remained standing, running his hands through Dean's hair, and Dean kissed down his stomach and dragged his boxers down simultaneously. Cas cried out as Dean wrapped his mouth around his dick, using his teeth to gently grind into the delicate skin. Cas bucked up into him over and over, all but yelling Dean's name out to the saints and angels who were carved and painted into all the corners of that sacred place. Dean betted they were disgusted.

Dean didn't care.

When Cas made the windows shake with his final moan, Dean eased him through it. The priest sank shakily to his knees, wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and kissing him sloppily. They fell back onto the freezing stone floor, shivering against it. Cas removed Dean's belt so expertly Dean didn't even notice until Cas began pulling his jeans off. He cupped him and rubbed and experimented with things and Dean's moans weren't that of complaint.
"Cas, oh god, please," he croaked, nails digging into the other's back. Castiel's hand ventured into Dean's underwear and Dean began to wonder if this really was Cas' first time with a guy because fuck, he knew what he was doing. Those twists and occasional jerks of his wrist were just...
"Ohhhhh." Dean panted as he came hard and fast, all over Cas' hand and stomach, and his own. They kissed deeply then; it was lax and easy and...perfect. It was Castiel telling Dean that he would never tell him to stop.
"How unholy do you feel?" Dean managed to say as Cas collapsed on his chest and stayed there, breathing hard.
"I don't think there's enough prayer in the world to clean me up after that."
"I think there's enough water in the shower to do that, though. You have a bathroom back there, right?" Dean motioned with his head towards the back door and Cas began laughing. Dean joined him. They laughed into a comfortable silence. Castiel climbed to his feet and pulled on his boxers.
Without another word, he disappeared into the back room. Licking his lips, Dean scrambled up, and followed the sound of running water. Castiel was tainted with ever lasting sin. And it was Dean's fault. Somehow, this didn't seem to bother him. And at least if they were going to hell, they'd be going down together.