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The demons within (naked before you)

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The sound of their steps echo off the bunker’s concrete walls, Castiel’s more muted compared to Sam’s heavier boots.

“I just don’t understand how he escaped?”

Sam makes a frustrated noise. “I don’t know.”

Castiel frowns. They’re almost at the map room. “And how did Crowley even get in?”

“I don’t know, Cas.” Sam stops by the map table, leans on it and stares unseeing at the lit surface. Castiel lingers to his left. “How did Crowley even get in here in the first place to give Dean that goddamn blade? I just…” he draws a deep sigh and Castiel feels great sympathy for his friend. “I just don’t know.”

Castiel watches with sad eyes as Sam sits down heavily and starts sorting through scattered papers and newspapers. They’re his old research from when he tried to find Dean after Dean had run out the first time. He spent weeks on that and even got his arm broken. Castiel feels extremely bad for that.

His fingers twitch with the need to heal his friend but he can also feel the stolen grace burning through him. Crowley had replenished him, that’s true, but Castiel had been near death and he still isn’t far off. He needs his own grace or his vessel is wont to expel him or the grace will burn him to death.

Sam doesn’t know all of that, though, and he doesn’t need to know.

In an effort to comfort his friend, Castiel steps up to the younger Winchester and puts a hand on his shoulder. Sam relaxes back in the chair but hides his face in his hand.

“We will get him back.” Castiel says with as much conviction as he can muster. “You did it once and now I’m here too. He can’t escape the both of us forever.”

Sam cringes and Castiel removes his hand, unsure if his proximity or his words was the cause of the cringe.

“You don’t understand.” Sam says, exasperate. “He doesn’t want to be found, or cured.”

“I’m sure—”

“He doesn’t.” Sam looks up at Castiel with pleading eyes and Castiel frowns in confusion. “I pumped him so full of blood, Cas. I just… when I did it with Crowley he was going human long before that but Dean just kept laughing. Kept… kept sneering at me, Cas.”

Castiel’s stomach roils uncomfortably at the image. “He is a human turned Knight of Hell, not a mere demon.” He reminds Sam carefully. “It might take more blood for him.”

Or it might not help at all. The thought has struck Castiel but he doesn’t want to delve into that right now. Their first priority should be to get Dean back to the bunker.

Sam looks at Castiel as if he knows exactly that Castiel is mostly humoring him. Sam has always been too insightful for his own good.

“Maybe.” He mumbles and nods curtly. “Let’s… let’s just find him.” He straightens up to starts rifling through the papers again. “I just need something to eat and maybe some Aspirin.”

Dean had hit Sam quite savagely when he had broken free. They don’t talk about that. Castiel is just glad that Crowley had felt cornered enough with both Sam and Castiel coming into the room just as he was freeing Dean that he had teleported out of there with the older Winchester brother before anything too awful could have happened.

That Dean punched Sam and laughed at his shocked little brother had been harsh enough. Castiel doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened if he hadn’t been there or if Crowley had decided to let Dean have his fun. Dean had been chasing Sam around the bunker the first time Castiel showed up. Just the memory of how he had struggled against Castiel’s grip — struggled to get free to harm his little brother — is heartbreaking enough.

“I will go.” Castiel says calmly and Sam stops to look up at him again. “You need to rest and you need to man the bunker if Dean comes back. Stay here and be the brains, set up a network like Bobby had. I will be your brawn.”

Sam swallows and for a moment looks so relieved that Castiel fears he will start crying. But then he schools his features and shakes his head.

“I can’t let you do that. I know your grace is running low.”

Running low is an understatement. “So you try to find my grace and I try to find your brother. We will both work at getting a cure for him.”

“I don’t… Cas, what if we can’t…?”

Castiel smiles down at Sam, reflects lowly on everything the Winchesters have accomplished so far.

“We will find a way, Sam.”

At the moment finding Dean seems the harder task.

 

 


 

 

 

Fucking hell, fresh air is probably the best thing about being free again. Does Dean wish that he’d had time to grab a few things from his old room? Yes. But fuck it, those are just things anyway, he can get new skin mags and cool knives. Kind of does miss his gun, though… and Baby?

Dean pfft’s, making Crowley raise his eyebrow.

“Something on your mind, darling?”

Dean purses his lips, tapping his fingers against the polished surface of the table they are sitting at.

“Coulda used a beer, dude. You just broke me out of prison.”

Crowley sips noisily at his coffee, making Dean roll his eyes. They’re at a Denny’s and there are kids running around.

“Shouldn’t you be more grateful right now?”

“I dunno, should I?” Dean mocks. “I was handling things. Coulda just waited and broken out myself. Did it once before. Now you made a whole deal out of it and I didn’t even get to take any stuff with me.”

His lower right arm pounds dully, as if the mark of Cain is telling him he needs to get up and move. Dean had kind of thought the mark would calm down after he succumbed to it and sure, it kind of has, but there’s still this somewhat jittery feeling running through his body.

He wants to move, to fight, to feel the adrenaline, to fuck, to conquer.

Crowley looks at him like he knows this and Dean bares his teeth in a warning.

“Were you handling it?” Crowley asks in a drawl. “Because it looked to me like you were chained to a chair getting spoon fed blood.”

“It wasn’t working.” Dean huffs and leans back in his chair. “I’m not a whiny little bitch like you, I’m a Knight of Hell.”

Crowley looks irritated as fuck and Dean grins at him.

“Still a demon, darling.”

Dean flashes his black eyes just for the heck of it and then teleports out of there to enjoy his newfound freedom.

 

*****

 

A week later Dean knows he has to make some changes. His list looks as follows:

  • Ditch Crowley
  • Get Crowley to stop spreading rumors about them having sex (although the rumors are true)
  • Ditch Crowley
  • Find a location with lots of floozies and alcohol
  • Fuck and drink

Crowley reads Dean’s list over his shoulder and snorts at him.

“What the hell do you need floozies for? And I’ve got scotch.”

Dean’s eyes flash black when a wave of anger hits him. It’s been harder to control lately. Fucking Sam for putting fucking human blood in his already human body. He can’t believe Sam thought that would work, really thought he had raised the kid better than that.

“I’m not fucking your loose ass again.”

“We could switch it up.”

Dean sighs. Deep and hard and long. “Don’t be needy, Fergus.”

Crowley immediately starts up a hissy fit because of course he does. Man, all that human blood Sam put in the King of HellTM must have really done a number on him. Or at least Dean hopes that’s what it is, although it was kind of a long time ago, wasn’t it?

He ignores Crowley and adds to his list:

  • Get a sweet-ass gun
  • Kill

He pauses and frowns down at the list. Kill what? Sure, with him being a Knight of Hell now his inhibitions have pretty much been shot to hell (literally) but he’s already done a lot of killing in his life. The itch that he felt already a week ago has pretty much only worsened, though, and he knows he’s got to do something.

“I’m off.”

Crowley stops in the middle of a sentence, glaring daggers at him. “Invoking your List of Awesomeness already?”

Dean shrugs. “Might as well.”

“I won’t save you a second time.”

“Suits me.”

Dean’s done being saved, he wants to do the trapping for a while.

 

*****

 

It’s another week before Dean thinks he understands what that itch is about.

One week of screening Crowley’s and Sam’s calls (actually more like three days and then he got a new phone) and fucking/fighting his way through the southern parts of Idaho. He’s been listless and angry and horny and the fucking mark won’t shut the fucking fuck up.

But he gets an epiphany while he’s being rammed from behind by a bear of a man and as epiphanies go it’s a pretty great one since it makes him come as well. The dude behind him grunts and starts fucking harder but Dean barely registers it because he’s busy not believing how he couldn’t have seen what the itch was about before.

See, the bear behind him has put all his weight on Dean, squishing him and grunting in his ear. And if Dean wasn’t Superman on speed he wouldn’t have been able to get out of it.

Just like when Cas had caught him.

Just like when Cas had jumped him from behind in the bunker, wrapping his long arms around Dean’s chest, his eyes flashing blue, his gravelly voice being all like “It’s over.” like a goddamn badass motherfucker…

Dean grins and uses his demonic strength to push up and get the guy off him.

“The fuck, man?” the bear swears and Dean flashes his black eyes at him.

“I think ‘the hell’ would be more appropriate.” He says and cracks his knuckles, a manic grin on his face because fuck yeah, he can’t wait to get on the road and to where he needs to be.

The mark practically sings with glee.

 

 


 

 

 

It’s been two long, grueling weeks. The worst part had been when he had had to explain to Hannah that he wouldn’t be joining her on their mission anymore. Castiel doesn’t want to think about her disappointed face and her surprisingly scathing words. It isn’t like he doesn’t already know he’s failing everyone around him, he hadn’t needed her to tell him that as well.

Then again, this isn’t the first time he’s sacrificed Heavenly missions to help the Winchesters so he’s not entirely sure how this was a surprise to her.

Other than that, the weeks have been mostly filled with trying to track down Dean. It hasn’t been easy and hasn’t yielded much of anything. Castiel suspects that Sam is putting too much effort into finding Castiel’s grace to be able to focus on his brother and while Castiel is flattered it’s also not what he wants.

If he’s perfectly honest he can feel this grace burning within him and it’s painful every time he has to use it but he can’t see how that would be more important than Dean. Even so, at least two times Sam sent him to locations that Castiel secretly thought had nothing to do with Dean.

The first time he ended up having to fight off a Werewolf pack and the second he ran into some rogue angels who were definitely not happy to see him.

He escaped mostly unharmed both times but he wishes Sam would just give it up. The stolen grace will run out when it runs out and Castiel would rather spend the time he has left doing something useful.

Right now he’s stalking through an old mine shaft in South Dakota, sent here on a lead about demonic sightings that Sam got a call about a couple of days ago.

The tunnel is dank and dark. The grace enhances his eyesight automatically and he almost wishes it wouldn’t since it burns. He’s trying to not use the grace as much but some things are basically autonomous.

Enhanced hearing makes it easy for him to pick out the distinct sound of something feeding further down the tunnel and he frowns. He lets his angel blade side out into his hand, just as a precaution but if it’s just an animal he’s prepared to turn heel and call Sam to tell him this was nothing. So far Castiel hasn’t noticed anything that points to demonic activities.

Turning a corner he stumbles right into a Wendigo that’s busy eating a fox. It grunts and turns its misshapen head and Castiel knows — knows — that he’s too slow. The Wendigo slams into him with a snarl and he manages to scrape it with his blade but it doesn’t seem to have much effect. Or maybe it does but the monster will keep on fighting.

Shame burns through Castiel, not at having been caught so defenseless, but at how he most probably will die here (a burnt out husk of an angel) and with his death he will have failed Sam. Will fail Dean. The grace burns bright through him, making his eyes light up with the fight he’s putting up but it’s almost as painful for him as it is for the Wendigo.

The Wendigo suddenly screeches and its eyes light up with an eerie orange color. A moment later it falls dead to the ground in front of Castiel and Castiel actually has to check himself to see if he didn’t accidentally smite it without realizing.

Looking up he’s shocked to see Dean standing there, eyes black and a wicked smile on his lips.

“Well if this ain’t something, huh Cas?” he puts his hands on his hips and nods down to the Wendigo corpse. “How many times you reckon you saved me in the nick of time just like this?”

“Dean.” Castiel breathes, can hardly believe it after two weeks of nothing. He wants to reach for his friend but the blackness of his eyes keep him back, a constant reminder as it is.

“Hey Cas.” Dean smirks and kicks the Wendigo to the side to take a step closer. “So how’ve you been?”

The teasing tone is evident but Castiel still bristles. “How have I been?” he grips his angel blade harder even though he doesn’t want to harm Dean. “Dean, you have to come with me.”

“Do I?” Dean mocks with a raised eyebrow. His eyes flick back to their normal green color and it’s not fair how beautiful it is. Castiel almost wishes he couldn’t see in this darkness. “Seems to me like I don’t have to do much of anything and you know what?” he leans a hand on the wall behind Castiel’s back, startling the angel more with the knowledge that he hadn’t realized he had backed up against it than anything else. “It’s fucking awesome.”

“Dean, please.” Castiel is only now realizing how poorly he has prepared for actually finding Dean. He has a bottle of holy water but not much else. And by the looks of it, trying to appeal to Dean’s human side isn’t working.

“Like it when you beg, little angel.” Dean suddenly purrs and Castiel is thrown for a loop. Dean seems to notice because his smirk grows. “You know,” he murmurs and leans in so that he is most definitely violating his own rule about personal space. “I just saved you and you didn’t as much as thank me. That’s kinda rude, Cas.”

Castiel swallows and thinks it sounds too loud. “I came here looking for you.”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault you almost died?” Dean’s eyes flick black again and a not entirely unpleasant shiver runs down Castiel’s spine. “You’re just full of rudeness, aren’t you?”

“Please Dean, come home.”

“In fact, I think you should be punished.” Dean moves faster than Castiel can anticipate and it makes his breath hitch when he realizes that Dean has put a hand on his hip. “Or maybe,” Dean purrs and presses closer. “I’ll be inclined to forgive you if you just thanked me properly.”

“What are you…?”

Castiel is confused and even more so when Dean huffs out a low chuckle, his breath ghosting over Castiel’s cheek.

“C’mon Cas, I know you know what to do.” His hand squeezes Castiel’s hip and it would have been painful if the grace hadn’t rushed to cushion the sensation. “But let’s not talk about that fucking reaper now, don’t wanna ruin the moment.”

What moment? What reaper? Castiel is at a loss for all of ten seconds before Dean shifts and suddenly presses his thigh between Castiel’s legs, right up against his crotch.

And then, yes, then it becomes abundantly clear what Dean is doing, which reaper he’s referring to, and what he wants as reward for helping Castiel. And Castiel’s vessel-turned-body-turned-vessel reacts so fast it’s painful. But it’s a good pain so the grace thankfully doesn’t intervene but good God, Castiel almost wishes it had.

Because no, he can’t be getting an erection with Dean rubbing up against him. Dean, his best friend, Dean, who’s in dire need of help, Dean, who’s under demonic influence. Dean doesn’t really want this.

But oh, how Castiel does.

It takes a lot of his stolen grace to shove Dean off and he ends up panting more from that than from the arousal that’s searing through him.

Dean grins at him and Castiel hates how the sight of his black eyes isn’t the turn-off it should be.

“Not your cup of tea, little angel?” Dean laughs. Castiel has to stagger back against the wall again when the grace burns his insides. At least the feeling helps quell his arousal. “Maybe in a different setting? This is after all a fucking cave.”

“What are you playing at, Dean?” Castiel grits. “If I let you defile me you’ll come back home?”

Dean blinks and his eyes flick back to normal. He looks almost confused for a moment.

“Defile you? Oh no,” he laughs again. “I’d rather be on the defiling end, if you catch my drift.”

“You…?” Castiel most certainly does not catch any kind of drift. “Why did you come here?”

It’s clear to Castiel now that he’s been played with all along and he doesn’t like the feeling.

Dean clucks his tongue. “Yes, why did I come here?” he steps up to Castiel and grips his chin to steal a quick kiss, making every nerve ending in Castiel’s body light up. “Guess you’ll just have to try and catch me to see if you can weasel it out of me.” He grins when all Castiel can do is stare up into his vibrantly green eyes. “Tag, you’re it.” Dean whispers and teleports out of there before Castiel’s mind can unfreeze.

 

 


 

 

 

Exuberant, that would be the word Dean would use to describe how he’s feeling if he had the wherewithal to come up with it. At the moment he’s reduced to grinning like a maniac while licking on his own fingers as he strips his dick hard and fast.

Fucking fuck, who knew Cas would taste so fucking good? His lips were perfect against Dean’s and Dean can’t get out of his head how he had felt the angel’s dick perking up real goddamn fast when Dean rubbed against him. And that had only been a thigh; Dean can’t wait to see how Cas will react when they finally rub their dicks together.

Or better yet, when they fuck.

Dean groans at the thought and traces his hole with his spit-slick fingers. His dick is throbbing in his hand and he takes a moment to enjoy rubbing the furled skin around his hole before he plunges a finger straight in.

Without proper lube it burns and he likes it, wants it hard and fast and fucking yes, he should get Cas angry when he tries to fuck him. Bet angry sex with an angel would be the best.

Cas is weak now, though, Dean knows this not only because he knew it to begin with but because he felt it in the cave. And shit, that Wendigo had almost eaten Cas whole. Dean moans at the memory of Cas’ shocked face when he saw Dean there. Bet he hadn’t been expecting that.

Dean loves how he was the one saving Cas for a fucking change. He feels powerful and it makes his arousal burn hot inside him.

He fingers himself for a moment before abandoning his dick altogether to use his other hand to spread his ass cheeks and plunge in two other fingers without much preparation to talk about. Shit, that burns almost too much but he likes it, doesn’t he? He’s a demon now and supposes pain should feel good. And it makes his dick jerk and splurt out precome so why the fuck not?

He fucks himself on three fingers, thinking of Cas’ wide and confused eyes. Yeah, bet he wouldn’t have a fucking clue about what to do with a man. Or maybe he would?

“Fuck.” Dean groans as images of Cas’ smite-face flashes before him. “Fuck yeah, Cas. Fucking push me down.”

Cas could fuck him over the hood of his ridiculous pimpmobile, for example.

“Ah, yes, harder little angel.” Dean gasps, suddenly weirdly close to the edge in a way he hasn’t been since he got the goddamn mark. His body locks up and he rolls to his stomach to hump the bed he’s on just as he comes hard. “Not—fuck—not so little anymore.” Of course, Cas was never little but Dean has always kind of seen him as small. Even when he wasn’t a demon he knew Cas was someone he needed to protect but holy hell, what if he’s got it all backwards the whole time?

Dean grins and looks out at the room he’s in. It’s a nice bedroom, looks like it belongs to a teenage girl, maybe middle school. The sheets have a floral pattern and the curtains match the rug in a soft yellow hue. Dean had picked the house at random after getting out of the cave, just needing to be alone somewhere to jerk off and this had been the closest house that was empty. It’s nice.

“Cas could fuck me up.” He tells one of the many stuffed bears that’s sitting in a plush armchair across from the bed. The bear looks like it’s giving him a thumbs up and that seems appropriate for how Dean’s feeling right now. “Did you enjoy the show Mr. Bear?” still a thumbs up, this bear is alright.

 

 


 

 

 

Castiel feels numb. And hot. Castiel feels a numbing hotness spreading throughout his whole body and he can’t get rid of it. He knows what it is, he’s not stupid, but he doesn’t want to give in to the urges and actually pleasure himself to the memories of Dean in that cave.

Because that wasn’t Dean. That was a Knight of Hell, an entity in and of itself that has corrupted Dean, his friend. His most beloved—his…

Castiel sighs and turns to lie on his side on his bed in his room in the bunker. He had driven straight here after Dean had left him, convinced that he needed to talk to Sam about this development but even after hours in the car all he had managed to stutter out had been a heavily censured version of what had happened.

Sam had been happy to hear about Dean, though, but concerned that he had managed to escape. And even more concerned about Castiel’s grace. Castiel feels bad for using that to mask how Dean had gotten away from him.

But he can’t explain the real reason. Perhaps because he can barely explain it to himself.

Dean had kissed him. Kissed him.

Castiel purses his lips in the darkness of his room, can almost feel the phantom touch of Dean’s lips against his. So soft, so impossibly soft. He is ashamed to admit that he wants to feel it again. Is even more ashamed to admit that he’s wanted to taste Dean for a very long time.

Oh, he’s been well aware of his affections for a while now. How they differ from the affection he feels for Sam. He loves both Winchesters, there’s no doubt about that. But he doesn’t want to touch Sam, not like he wants to touch Dean. If Sam had been the one to rub his thigh against Castiel’s crotch, Castiel is relatively certain that he wouldn’t have felt anything.

But that’s why his encounter in the cave is so shameful. Not because of how he had reacted but because Dean had seemed to know that Castiel would react like that.

Castiel has always been so careful about his attraction to Dean’s physical body as well as his mind and soul. Dean might be flirty and he is prone to “mancrushes” — as Sam so jokingly once referred Dean’s fascination with the TV character Dr. Sexy — but Castiel has never actually seen any signs that Dean might be attracted to men.

And Castiel, genderless as he might be, is now stuck in a male vessel. So there, case closed. And Castiel was fine with that, as long as he was allowed to be with the Winchesters he was completely fine with having to squash down his arousal. Before April he hadn’t even acted on arousal before so he hadn’t been very tempted anyway.

But now…

Now Dean has gone and utterly destroyed all of Castiel’s fine arguments and the floodgates have opened. Now he knows what Dean tastes like, what Dean’s lips feel like, what he smells like, how his thigh feels against Castiel’s erection. And he can’t shut that out.

The only thing that stops his hands from wandering down his heated body is the fact that even though all the physical things were pure Dean, the mind can’t have been, corrupted as it is. The Dean Castiel knows wouldn’t have done any of that and as much as it pains Castiel, he knows he must be strong and resist the temptation.

So he lies in the dark in his room, trying to meditate, and ignores both his arousal and the fact that it feel more like he needs to sleep than meditate.

 

*****

 

The second time Dean shows up Castiel feels more anger than confusion and shock.

He’s been hunting a Djinn because Sam wouldn’t stop talking about it and Castiel doesn’t want him out of the bunker. Sam’s arm has healed up quite nicely and he’s eager to get out there to help Castiel track Dean but Castiel sees danger behind every corner and he can’t lose both Winchesters.

Besides, Sam is really the perfect person to man the bunker, the library, the lore. He’s even set up a network, just like Castiel suggested, and he’s helping a lot of hunters that way. Castiel is loath to see the hunting community lose that right now.

So Castiel goes where Sam directs him and in a way it’s comforting because it reminds him of the old days when orders would come from Heaven and he would execute them. He just wishes that the stolen grace wouldn’t burn so hot. He knows Sam is still working more on finding his grace than anything else and it makes him feel guilty.

So when Dean shows up, all cocky, snapping his fingers to crush the Djinn’s head, Castiel seethes.

“Cas.” Dean tuts and leans against the doorframe of the living room in the house where Castiel found the Djinn lurking. “This is the second time I’ve saved you.”

Castiel grips the silver knife he doused in lamb’s blood before going in. “I wasn’t finished.”

“Of course you weren’t.”

Castiel frowns at Dean’s grin. He looks so much like his usual self right now that it’s painful to look at him. After almost a week of pining Castiel has come to realize that it was indeed better before he knew what the forbidden fruit tasted like. Sam has even commented on Castiel looking paler than usual and Castiel suspects that’s why the younger Winchester has been researching his grace so much. He should tell Sam that it’s not the fact that he’s dying that’s making him pale.

“Are you following me?”

“Well,” Dean waltzes closer but Castiel puts equal distance between them and it’s making Dean smirk. “I said tag but you haven’t really been trying to tag me back, have you?”

“I have been looking.” Castiel grits out. With the grace running low he can feel every emotion so much sharper and the pain of losing his best friend is making him incredibly angry.

Dean stops and rubs a hand on his chest absentmindedly. He skims his eyes up and down Castiel’s body and God help him, it’s making Castiel’s blood boil with something other than anger.

“And I’ve been imagining.”

“Imagining what?”

Oh he fell in that trap so easily, he thinks when Dean arches an eyebrow provocatively at him.

“You tagging me, little angel.”

The arousal that shoots through him feels painful, feels like a week of pent up frustration.

Feels like years of yearning.

Such a ridiculous thought and yet Castiel can’t seem to disagree with it. Something must show on his face because Dean is on him instantly, hands gripping the lapels on his coat as their mouths clash in hungry kisses.

Castiel gasps sharply and Dean plunges in his tongue the second Castiel opens his mouth. The knife clatters to the floor when Castiel raises his own hands and good God, he should push Dean away but instead he wraps his arms around the man and fists his shirt.

So many years, so much frustration. Physical, mental, Castiel has felt it all and everything has been at the hands and whim of Dean Winchester. Why, oh why did it have to take Dean turning into a demon for them to come to this point?

Somehow Castiel feels more anger at that than anything else. With a growl he shoves Dean up against a nearby wall, heedless of the fact that this is someone’s home. All he can feel at the moment is carnal lust and righteous anger. The dwindling grace is burning hot with it and when Dean spreads his legs with a moan Castiel loses his rationality.

He grabs Dean’s ass and hauls him in tighter, pressing their crotches together and relishing the feeling of Dean’s erection straining against his. Castiel feels feverish with the need to touch Dean and his scrambles to do everything all at once.

Dean’s hands are flying similarly all over Castiel’s body and when they land in his hair Dean immediately messes it up, pulling away to smirk at it.

“Fuck yeah, missed this look.”

Castiel’s heart aches. “Dean, you…”

Dean’s eye flash black and Castiel’s breath hitches at the sight. He should hate it (he does hate it) but it looks positively delectable to see such a symbol of evil on Dean’s fine features.

“Come on, little angel.” Dean growls, still smirking. “I took the time to finger myself open before I got here, are you gonna fuck me or what?”

This makes Castiel angry again. The thought of how easily Dean plays with his emotions is crushing him and he can feel the grace flare within him, most probably making his eyes flash blue-white. Dean’s eyes widen a fraction but he doesn’t have time to react before Castiel has twirled them around and flung Dean down on the living room couch.

“You toy with me.” Castiel growls and actually rips off Dean’s jeans and underwear, the fabric tearing with a loud ripping sound. “You mock me.” He grabs one of Dean’s legs just under his knee, bending the leg up against Dean’s chest to gain access. Dean gasps and Castiel can see his hard dick jumping and spitting precome. “And yet you are the one that chase me.” He manhandles Dean into a better position, forces himself between the demon’s legs even as Dean spreads out as best he can on the cramped couch. Castiel’s hand is shaking but he doesn’t fumble with the zipper. He does groan loudly when his erection falls out of his pants. “You do this to me, Dean Winchester.” He growls. Dean is staring hungrily at his dick.

“Then maybe I should take responsibility, huh Cas?” Dean rasps and Castiel feels a shudder go through his body. Dean sounds too much like himself, his eyes back to green now as they rake up and down Castiel’s body. Castiel is still gripping one of Dean’s legs, his thumb probably digging in painfully.

“You don’t want this.” Castiel whispers with closed eyes. “You, Dean, you don’t want this.”

This time it’s Dean who growls and Castiel’s eyes fly open when he feels a calloused hand wrap around his dick.

“Fuck you, Cas. Maybe I wanted it all along but I was just too fucking stuck up to know it.” Dean’s eyes flash black again, in anger now, Castiel thinks, but it still looks eerily beautiful. “Maybe I had to turn demon to know it.”

Castiel rejects that notion, doesn’t want to hear it, doesn’t want to be a part of that indulgence. The mere thought of it makes a wave of new anger wash over him. Because what if Dean really had wanted Castiel all along? What if they could have had this long ago and under much more loving circumstances?

No, Castiel doesn’t believe it. Can’t let himself believe it.

He folds himself over the demon, guiding his dick to Dean’s hole and shoving inside in one swift motion. Dean must have prepared himself just like he proclaimed but it’s still tight and very much too dry. There is a moment of extreme discomfort but then the stolen grace rushes to aid him and Dean moans loudly when the grace forces him to relax.

“Fuck yeah.” He huffs out a chuckle. “Knew you’d be big.”

Castiel can barely think. Dean is tight and warm, his nostrils are filled with Dean’s scent and when he bends over to capture Dean’s mouth in a hard kiss he feels Dean’s erection, wet and hard against his stomach.

Dean groans and grabs whatever he can reach even as he starts humping up against Castiel.

“C’mon, little angel, fuck me with that big cock of yours.”

Castiel grits his teeth, yet another wave of anger washing over him at Dean’s brashness.

With a mighty shove he takes control over the humping and starts fucking Dean with short, hard thrusts. Dean moans and urges Castiel on with wordless pleas, his voice shooting straight to Castiel’s groin, flaring the fire burning hot there.

Dean is babbling and Castiel wants to kiss him but fears the tenderness of the act. Instead he gathers Dean’s arms, holding both wrists in one hand above the demon’s head. Dean opens his eyes and they’re still black. Castiel feels like he’s drowning.

“You.” He hisses. “You’ve been my everything since even before you were born. You showed me a world of wonder and you gave me the freedom of choice.”

He’s on the verge of going from angry to sad but he focuses on the way the grace stings as it surges through him. Focuses on the injustice of this whole situation.

“Gotta say,” Dean groans out. “I love the choices you’ve made.”

Such a clear mockery. Every choice Castiel has ever made has been terrible. He’s dying now because of those choices. Castiel is tired and miserable and he wishes he could make just one thing right before he eventually flickers out if existence.

“You talk too much.”

“I’ve been told.”

A particularly hard thrust makes Dean press his head back with a new groan. Castiel watches, entranced, as Dean’s Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

When he wraps his long fingers around Dean’s neck, the demon’s eyes fly open to stare at him.

“You want so much of me.” Castiel rumbles even as his hand closes over Dean’s throat. “You take and take, but you seldom give me anything back. Now you’re even robbing me of this experience, something I’ve wanted for longer than I can put to words.”

“What experience?” Dean croaks and Castiel fucks him harder even as he squeezes Dean’s throat.

“The experience of loving you.” Castiel rasps, tears dangerously close now. His pleasure feels like a searing spear. “I know that you, like me, don’t need to breathe.” Castiel lets go of Dean’s hands to rise to his knees, towering over the prone demon even as he fucks him. “But I also know that you, like me, chose to breath. For all that you’ve robbed me of, I will rob you of this choice.”

Dean makes a spluttering sound and his eye flicker back to their normal green color. He stares up at Castiel, his expression suddenly one of awe and Castiel can’t take it, he’s suddenly so close to coming.

It happens so fast, the way everything just erupts. Castiel quirks his head to the side and closes off Dean’s air tightly, and Dean arches his back sharply and comes with a punched out gurgle. His dick jumps and his hole clenches around Castiel and good God, Castiel can’t even hope to remain in control when that happens.

With a pitiful sound he collapses on top of Dean, releasing the demon’s throat to grab at his shoulders even as he pounds into the lax body a handful of times before coming himself.

Dean is a shuddering, gasping mess and Castiel’s post-orgasmic bliss is short-lived when he startles with the realization that he strangled Dean during sex, without consent.

“Dean.” He mumbles, probably in a stutter, and pulls out slowly.

Dean is staring at him with a blissed out expression and Castiel thinks it isn’t fair, how everything went down in the end.

“God-fucking-damn, Cas.” Dean laughs and Castiel winces when he hears how rough Dean’s voice is. “I always knew it’d be special with you but I’ve never come untouched before. Shit, man.”

Castiel shies away from the “always knew” because it must be a lie. Dean couldn’t have been that closeted that it had to take demonhood to bring this out of him, Castiel is stupid for just entertaining that idea. It’s the demonic side of Dean trying to snare him, he’s sure.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He mutters and slides off the couch to right his clothes and find the knife again.

If he had his own grace, or if this one wasn’t burning so low, he would have taken time to tidy up the place. As it is he’s forced to leave the house to be found in quite a mess and even though he will most definitely bring the Djinn’s body with him to burn and bury he can’t do much about the blood stains. He comforts himself with thinking that the family will come home from their vacation to find only blood and not a manipulative Djinn. It’s a small comfort.

“I sure did.” Dean sounds much too smug. When Castiel glances at him he sees that Dean is still sprawled out on the couch with his soft dick resting against his hip. “You… you, um…?”

Castiel frowns at the sudden loss of Dean’s cockiness. He shakes his head, much too reminded of his former friend to not be saddened by this.

“Did I enjoy fucking the man I love while he’s a demon that’s just trying to goad me? Did I enjoy falling for the goading and practically strangling you?” a part of him kind of wants to say yes because that single orgasm, however brief, had been infinitely better than the few he had shared with April. “No, I did not. Can you please leave?”

“Thought you were going to chase me and bring me back to big bad Sammy?”

“That wasn’t my purpose tonight.” That’s a cheap way of saying that he doesn’t have the heart right now.

“Of course, good soldier Castiel always follow orders.” Dean sounds amused and Castiel supposes that he is, considering how he has lived most of his life under the yoke of his father.

He doesn’t deign Dean with an answer, though, and he doesn’t face Dean again, instead focusing on his task of removing the Djinn body.

When he later returns into the house under the guise of needing to inspect the damage he’s of course disappointed to find that Dean has left. He doesn’t let himself linger on the feeling, though, since he was the one to ask Dean to leave.

On his way over to the bunker he does let himself berate his behavior and decision to not at least try and bring Dean back with him. He doesn’t know what to tell Sam and in the end decides not to say anything. Silence is better than lies, he thinks, and hates himself for how weak he is.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

Dean has a new list now. It looks like this:

  • Angel blade
  • Police radio
  • JD
  • Cas’ dick

The last one is only crossed out because Dean can’t look at it without starting to laugh. Man, fucking the angel had been much better than he had thought it would be. If he had thought Cas would be gentle he had been proven wrong so goddamn hard he had had trouble sitting the next day.

Following his leaving the Djinn house he had occupied a motel room and been gross as fuck by trying to dig out Cas’ come to smell it (had kind of wanted to taste it too but eww, not like that). This whole adventure has been a great success, Dean thinks. The mark is singing and he feels invigorated.

Still horny, though, and he’s thinking that the horny feeling is a replacement for the endless anger he had felt at first. First before he became a Knight of Hell (being a human with the mark of Cain was a goddamn bitch, clearly) and then after.

Cain had managed it by keeping bees and being all peaceful and shit. Dean has tried to deal with it by using booze and meaningless sex but that hasn’t worked at all. He’s still been angry, only pent up with it. Has still wanted to kill but who the fuck wanted to kill humans anyway?

The other demons seem fine with it and objectively Dean thinks it could be fun since he has spent his whole life protecting the worthless race and gotten nothing but trouble for it (plus, killing some specifically targeted humans can still be nice, like that guy who cut before Dean in the line for coffee last week…). But on the whole he finds humans boring and hasn’t really been on the killing spree Cas and Sam had been afraid of and that Crowley encourages.

Because what’s the goddamn sport in killing things that can’t fight back? No, Dean has decided to go after the monster community instead. When Crowley first heard about that he had snorted out something about Dean’s soft hunter side still controlling him and Dean had both thought about adding Crowley to his kill-list and wondered why he had allowed the King to make contact with him again. Crowley is still stuck up and boring. Dean supposes his infinite liquor storage is a plus for him. And the angel blade that Dean blatantly stole. That was a win too.

The thing is, though, that ever since Dean fucked (got fucked by, come on) Cas he has been feeling much better. More gleeful than grumpy. Dean wants Cas to hold him down again, wants to maybe have the angel tie him up and fuck him from behind. And what was the deal with Cas strangling him?

Dean gets that that was because Cas was angry and frustrated and maybe sad but shit, it had been so hot. Dean still gets hard just thinking about Cas’ long fingers wrapping around his throat and he’s taken to sometimes putting pressure on his Adam’s apple while he masturbates.

Cas had been kind of weak, though, and that makes Dean frown. He hasn’t really thought about it before but he liked being manhandled by Cas and that won’t be possible if the angel is getting weaker, will it?

That’s one of the things that draws his attention to the angel. The other (and main) is of course Cas’ dick and mouth. The last session had been too short, Dean thinks as he plans for his next move. He wants them both to be completely naked, wants to feel Cas’ mouth on him everywhere. Who the fuck would’ve known that Cas’ lips were so soft?

Well, Dean supposes that fucking reaper that took Cas’ virginity knows. Is she dead? Dean can’t quite remember what happened to her and just thinking about it makes Dean so angry that he snaps his pen in half and gets ink all over his list.

That of course only infuriates him more and he takes a moment to thrash the motel room he’s in before he’s calmed down and then simply teleports out of there because fuck that shitty room. Plus, teleporting is awesome and Dean doesn’t even miss his car.

 

*****

 

For the coming two weeks Dean entertains himself by intercepting almost every hunt Cas goes on. He uses his new police radio to scan for cases like in the old days but he only goes on the ones he thinks has caught Sam and Cas’ attention. Usually he guesses right.

Sometimes he will get there during the hunt and just look at Cas, hidden and smug about it. He masturbates later to the images of Cas walking around and trying to be human. Poor guy looks so out of his element there’s no way it’s not a turn-on.

Sometimes he wraps up the kill just in time to leave the monster all tied up and dead like a fucking Christmas present for Cas. And Cas always knows it’s him that it did. Dean knows because sometimes he sticks around to hear Cas frantically call out for him. Dean masturbates to that too.

He likes toying with the angel, though, and won’t come to him. Cas was right about that, he’s like a little fly and Dean enjoys being the spider. Still, his ass is starting to feel pretty fucking empty and since no one else does it for him right now it’s inevitable that he’ll stick around long enough for Cas to catch up to him one of these days.

Cas looks less impressed than Dean had hoped when it finally happens.

Dean is standing beside a tied up Shapeshifter when Cas enters the bedroom. She immediately screams for him to help her, appearing for all sense and purposes as a human. Dean is smirking at Cas and he’s so into this dance of theirs that he’s already half-hard.

Cas looks tired and walks up to the Shapeshifter with a limping gait Dean hasn’t seen before.

“Don’t worry, Cas.” Dean says in his bedroom voice because why the hell not? “It’s the Shifter you came for.”

The Shapeshifter quiets down. Cas shakes out his own angel blade without even looking at her.

“I know that, Dean. I can see her soul.”

He chops off the Shapeshifter’s head in one smooth slice with his blade and it hits the floor with a dull thump, blood going everywhere. His eyes are still on Dean’s and fucking shit, Dean’s whole body sings along with the mark.

“That’s fucking hot.” Dean wonders if Cas can see his soul too and what it looks like now. Cas tilts his head to the side and frowns. For a moment they’re caught in their usual staring contest.

Dean breaks it by crossing the small distance between then and yanking Cas into a harsh kiss. He groans at the contact and taste and melts against the angel. Cas is stiff as a board and Dean hears the angel blade clatter to the floor.

The bliss is short-lived. Cas pushes him away and Dean is again aware of how not strong Cas is. Strong for a human, yes, but not compared to Dean. Not compared to how Cas should be.

“Stop it, Dean.” Cas croaks and actually fucking wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking pained. “What are you even doing?”

“Whaddaya mean?” Dean brandishes the now dead Shapeshifter. “I’m helping you hunt and leaving you gifts and shit. It’s cute, I saw it on a nature show.”

Cas looks at Dean with haunted eyes. “Cute?” he repeats and Dean regrets that choice of words because it sounds lame as fuck. It’s manly is what it is, he’s fucking hunting for Cas. Come on. “Dean, you killed an innocent woman in Ohio last week. You need to stop whatever you think you’re doing.”

Dean frowns in confusion. Ohio had been the Werewolf case and he doesn’t think Cas would lie about the killing. He shrugs with a lopsided grin. “Oh well, you win some you lose some.” Werewolves and humans do tend to look alike in daylight after all, and they all beg for their lives when a Knight of Hell enters the room.

“No, Dean, that’s not how it goes.” Cas says, clearly upset. Dean is losing his arousal and it’s making him angry. “That’s not how we do things, please Dean.”

“Please what?” he snaps. “Damn, Cas. When I was human I was too closeted for you and now I’m trying too hard. What the fuck is it you even want?”

“I want my—” Cas cuts himself off and hunches in on himself but fuck no.

“Your what?” Dean asks in an acidic voice.

“My Dean.” Cas answers with closed eyes. “But my Dean didn’t want me. Now I’m stuck in this waking nightmare and how do you think that makes me feel?”

Dean is seething. “Well fucking excuse me. Maybe I don’t want you either, you look like a fucking corpse anyway.” He’s being petty and doesn’t know why that bothers him.

“That’s because I’m dying.” Cas says lowly, looking down at the floor.

“Dying?” where the hell did that come from?

“The grace Crowley gave me will only last so long, it’s burning me alive.” Cas turns to pick up his angel blade to tuck it away, clearly preparing to leave.

Dean is on him in an instant, grabbing his shoulder and yanking him around so that they’re face to face. Cas’ eye are wide and very blue, even without any grace lighting them up.

“Don’t fucking turn your back on me.”

“Why not? You do it all the time, leaving as you please.”

Dean’s hand on Cas’ shoulder tightens and Cas actually winces in pain. That should concern him, Dean reflects absentmindedly.

“You’re the one who’s always leaving me.” He says in a low growl, tone threatening but Cas just looks sad. “I stayed this time for a fuck and I’m gonna get it. You’re weak now, I could just throw you down and take you.”

“You could.” Cas concedes calmly. “You’re a Knight of Hell and I’m a dying angel, you could easily rape me and God help me but it would be so easy for you too. No matter how I feel about this I still love you, Dean, and my body knows this.” He looks sad. “I would react for you and you’re a demon, you could do whatever you want to me.”

“I could.” Dean says.

They stare at each other for a long moment. Cas is the first to look away but it doesn’t feel like a win. He sighs and walks over to the bed, unbuttoning his shirt as he goes. Dean licks his lips slowly, trying to anticipate the angel’s next move.

“I’m tired.” Cas says and it sounds as if he’s on the verge of tears but when he looks at Dean his eyes are dry and he doesn’t even look sad. Looks like nothing. “And lonely. I miss you.”

Dean knows he means the human Dean and not the Dean he is now. He’s okay with that.

“Come ‘ere, sweetheart.” Dean purrs with a smirk and walks over to Cas to help him out of his clothes. Cas looks like he wants to shy away from the endearment but he remains passive as Dean undresses him. “We can make it sweet too. No reason we gotta fight during sex, right?”

To be perfectly honest Dean does want the fight a little bit. He wants it rough and punishing, wants the angel to take out years of frustration on him. But mostly he just wants Cas’ fucking perfect cock in him again so he supposes he can play along for now. He’ll get his when it’s due.

Cas looks torn but he doesn’t object. When Dean leans in to kiss him again Cas even kisses back and fucking hell, that feels so goddamn good. Cas quickly figures out how to kiss Dean and Dean is more than ready to submit. He nibbles on Cas’ lower lip when they pull apart and it makes Cas groan lowly and pull Dean back in for a deeper kiss.

They undress each other as they continue kissing and Cas is down to his boxers when they finally break apart. Dean is still in his t-shirt and socks but is otherwise naked and he smirks when he sees Cas looking at his hard dick with near worship in his eyes. Damn, if he had known how easy this would be he definitely would have done it years ago.

“Not that I don’t like your stare but you’re free to touch, you know?” he teases in a deep voice and sways his hips from side to side, making his dick bob gently.

Cas swallows so hard it’s almost a gulp and then he’s stepping up to Dean again, one hand on the demon’s neck to pull him into a slow kiss and one down on the straining dick. Cas’ touch is light and almost uncertain but Dean kind of likes it. Because shit, that fucking reaper might have taken Cas’ first but she was a woman. Dean is Cas’ first with a man and that makes him almost laugh with possessiveness.

Images of Cas later trying this out with other men makes him growl threateningly and he silently vows to kill anyone who even so much as fucking looks at the angel. Come to think of it, hasn’t he always kind of felt like that? Thank fuck the mark lets him act it out.

His growl seems to startle Cas, though, because the angel pulls off him and looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“Did I hurt you?”

Dean can’t help snorting out a laugh at the thought of Cas’ feather-light touches hurting anyone. Cas doesn’t look offended, just questioning.

“You can’t hurt me, little angel.” He grins and instead of looking angry Cas looks…relieved?

“I…last time…” Cas looks to the side but Dean understands anyway (his dick positively trembles at the mere memory).

“You think it hurt me, when you strangled me?” he crowds in on Cas who stumbles back only to reach the bed. They end up pressed together and Dean grinds his dick against Cas in slow circles. “Have you already forgotten how hard you made me come? And fucking untouched at that?”

Cas exhales shakily and Dean is thrilled to feel the angel’s answering erection pressing against him.

“I-I held your wrists so tightly.”

Dean’s eyes flicker to demon black for a second without his control when he’s bombarded with the feelings that accompanied Cas restraining him like that.

“Yeah.” Dean breathes against Cas’ ear, revels in the shudder that goes through the angel. “Should’ve held me even tighter.”

“Dean?”

“It’s called bondage, Cas, and it’s a hoot.” He grins widely when he pulls out to meet Cas’ confused eyes. “We can use my t-shirt this time and I’ll pretend that I’m not hopped up on the mark.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean is growing real fucking impatient with all this slow and sweet stuff. “It’s easy, angel.” He grabs Cas’ hair in one hand and nips the angel’s lower lip again. “Fucking tie me down and ravish me. Want you to pound me into the mattress until I can’t breathe. Make me come for you.” He adds the last part in a partially fake moan but sees to his delight that Cas reacts as if the moan had been real.

His pupils blow out and he grabs Dean’s t-shirt in strong hands, hauls it over Dean’s head and tangles Dean’s hands in it over the demon’s head. A twirl later and Dean lands on his back on the bed, Cas hovering over him and shit, the angel almost looks like he doesn’t understand how they got there.

Okay, so moan prettily and the stoic angel will lose his shit, duly noted Dean thinks with a smirk.

He squirms on the bed, trying to look enticing and let’s face it, he’s Dean fucking Winchester so it’s not that hard.

“Oh no, Mister, you’ve got me all trapped.” He licks his lips when Cas still makes a confused face. “What’re you gonna do to me now?” inside he’s howling with laughter with how fucking silly this is but goddamn, he’s so turned on he feels like he’s choking on that laughter. Cas looks like the epitome of sex kneeling on all fours over him like this.

“Dean.” Cas rasps and Dean’s dick jumps when the angel skims his fingers down the demon’s throat and chest. He lingers on a nipple and it immediately perks up, which makes Dean arch his back into it because that feels so goddamn good. “You’re beautiful.”

Dean pfft’s because he knows he’s not beautiful. Handsome and dazzling maybe, but not beautiful. Cas doesn’t seem to care about what Dean thinks. He leans down, gets his body settled between Dean’s legs, and licks the same nipple slowly.

“Shit.” Dean mumbles because that feels really good.

Cas’ touches aren’t insecure but they’re still tender and yeah, Dean gets it but he sure as hell wants to get this show on the road too. Still, it’s hard for him to think coherently when Cas is slowly licking his way down Dean’s front, fingers digging into his ribs and scruff dragging deliciously along Dean’s suddenly almost overly sensitive skin.

When Cas comes down to Dean’s dick it’s so hard it hurts, red and leaking. He pauses and Dean chokes on his own spittle when he opens his mouth to goad the angel to swallow him down. Turns out, Cas doesn’t need any goading but manages to overload Dean’s system with pleasure all on his own.

When he wraps his sinful lips around Dean’s dick, Dean’s sure he fucking died again. The mark makes adrenaline coarse through him and he gets an almost childish urge to fuck the inexperienced angel’s mouth but for some reason he doesn’t. Just stays still and lets Cas explore.

Cas’ tongue is clever and he’s quick to catch on what Dean likes and doesn’t like. Pleasure emanates out from Dean’s groin and spreads throughout his whole body, making him lax and pliant. It’s enough to make him come but he doesn’t want that. Wants Cas’ cock first.

“Cas.” He breathes, so low the angel wouldn’t have heard him if he wasn’t an angel. “Wanna fuck.”

Cas rises to his knees, his dick tenting his boxers obscenely. He wipes his mouth and looks at Dean with hooded eyes.

“I was under the impression that that was what we were doing until you interrupted.”

Fuck yes, stern Cas really is the best. Yeah, Dean gets it that Cas is (was?) in love with him and all but hell, Dean wants force and now and urgency.

He plants his feet on the bed, spreads his legs and lifts his ass off the bed, to show off as much as he can for the angel to see. And fucking hell, Cas really looks his fill.

“Want your cock in me, little angel. Fucking ram me.”

Dean can see how torn Cas is. Oh, the angel clearly wants this as well but he’s also stuck on this whole “sweet” thing and Dean is getting tired of it.

He lowers himself to the bed again but before he can say anything more the angel has grabbed his left thigh and is forcing the leg up against Dean’s stomach. This is too reminiscent of their first time on that couch for Dean not to outright moan. His dick, already to fucking ready to burst, blurts out a generous amount of precome and it smears wetly on his stomach.

Cas surprises him by sucking on his own fingers for a moment, coating them with saliva before pressing two to Dean’s twitching hole. Unlike last time Dean hasn’t prepped but also didn’t think it would matter. He likes to feel it.

Cas pushes his fingers inside and there is a clear burn but not what Dean expected. Obviously Cas’ stolen grace is aiding them and Dean looks at the angel, thinking he felt this last time too but not realizing it until now.

“Cas, that’s not necessary.” He grins and Cas looks sad, what for Dean can’t figure out.

“I’m not doing it on purpose. I simply cannot bear to hurt you like this.”

Dean swallows and throws his head back to get out of looking at him. “Whatever.”

Cas’ fingers are long and somehow seem intimately acquainted with Dean’s body already. Cas wastes no time trying to tap around for Dean’s prostate but instead goes for it as soon as Dean has relaxed a little around him.

The sudden surge of white-hot pleasure makes Dean’s stomach muscles cramp up and he feels his demon eyes flick out again. He look straight at Cas and Cas licks his lips and seems unable to look away from Dean’s black gaze even as he starts finger-fucking the demon.

It’s almost unrealistically good and Dean soon finds himself gripping the pillow above his head with his bound hands and fucking down on Cas’ fingers.

“Fucking hell.” He wheezes and clenches his eyes shut against their blackness when Cas stabs him extra expertly right on the prostate. “Your fucking fingers.”

“What about them?”

Fuck Cas for sounding so fucking composed right now, that shouldn’t be a turn-on. One look at him tells Dean that the angel is anything but composed but just hearing that rumbling voice is making Dean tremble.

Dean doesn’t even manage to answer the angel’s seemingly innocent question (knowing him, it’s totally innocent). Instead he just moans like a two-dollar whore and squirms as Cas fucks him. Dean’s toes are curling and he’s so close to coming but he wants Cas’ cock.

“Cas.” He whines and feels the mark sear him in protest to him yielding like this but fuck it, Cas feels good.

“We need a condom.” Cas murmurs as he pulls his fingers free.

Dean looks at him for a moment while Cas cleans off his fingers on the sheets. The laugh that rips free is near hysterical in his need to just get to the goddamn fucking already. Knew he should have pissed off the angel instead because this is taking too fucking long.

“I can’t get preggers, you idiot.” He squeezes Cas between his legs, forcing the angel to look at him. “Don’t compare me to that fucking reaper.”

Cas wrenches free and stares with quiet indignation at Dean. It makes Dean’s whole body flush with arousal.

“I know that, Dean. I’m not ignorant and I really wish you would stop bringing up April in these situations, it’s confusing.”

Dean sits up quickly, moves with inhuman speed, his bound hands pressed between them and grabbing harshly at Cas’ chest to hold him still as he get up in the angel’s face.

“You’re my angel.” He growls, his eyes demon black again but more with anger than arousal. “You’re fucking me.”

Cas is fucking panting and he nods slowly, once again seemingly unable to look away from Dean’s eyes. Can it be that he likes to see them black? Dean’s jumbled mind makes this connection almost haphazardly and he decides to stick with it because why the hell not? An angel fucking a demon must be a huge taboo up there in Heaven and who the fuck doesn’t like breaking taboos?

Dean grins and lies back down to arch his body sinuously. “I got some lube in my jeans, go get that.”

“I…”

Cas looks like he wants to change his mind. Dean can’t believe the patience he’s exercising.

“It makes it’s even better, little angel.” He purrs and seems to break the last of Cas’ crumbling walls.

Cas’ nimble fingers are quick to find the small package of lube that Dean put in his pocket before even coming to the Shapeshifter’s house. He frowns at it and manages to spill an awful lot when he opens it but most of it lands on Dean’s dick and balls so it’s all good.

Cas’ face is red as he smears out the lube between Dean’s ass cheeks but Dean doesn’t think it’s because of embarrassment. He knows very well how it feels to glide fingers against a lubed-up ass hole and he suspects his loud moans are spurring the angel on as well.

“Dean.” Cas says when Dean’s on the verge of coming again. “I can’t…it’s, it’s so hot…”

Fucking hell, if the goddamn angel is about to fucking back out now Dean will beat the shit out of him and—

Dean screams in pure ecstasy when Cas grabs his hips and slams into the demon with one mighty thrust. It’s a wonder to behold that he doesn’t come from that alone. Cas grabs the t-shirt above Dean’s head to keep his hands in place and Dean has to stretch out his whole upper body when Cas pulls on his arms.

Cas’ face is so close, contorted in almost pained pleasure and Dean can’t fucking help it, alright? Kind of has to crane his neck up to seal their lips together. Cas’ hips stutter and the new angle makes him nail Dean’s prostate even more accurately and Dean moans into the kiss.

Sure, they went slow, and there’s still some kind of sweetness to this act compared to their first time on the couch but there sure as hell isn’t any softness to the way Cas rams into Dean. The angel’s unoccupied hand travels up and down Dean’s side and that touch is almost reverent but he’s still fucking Dean just the way the demon likes it and he thinks with delight that it’s probably because the angel can’t help it.

Maybe he’s just feeling too good, huh? Dean revels in the thought of making stoic Cas loose his shit over him.

“Dean.” Cas moans and buries his face against the crook between Dean’s neck and shoulder. “Dean.”

“Fuck yeah, Cas.” Dean groans, feels how inevitable his orgasm is now.

They’re both sweaty, bodies glistening in the lonely bedside lamp’s shine. Cas smells deeply of musk and Dean pants to get the scent into his whole system. They’re rolling against one another, their bodies so in sync that it’s almost a parody of their lives. Fuck, for a moment Dean feels like he could die on Cas’ cock and feel content with that.

He’s reminded that he can’t die when the mark flares angrily at the thought but he just grits his teeth and ignores it. The pleasure coursing through him is anyhow much greater. His dick is trapped between them, rubbing against both of their stomachs, aided by sweat and precome and he’s gonna come like that, he knows it.

Cas has just shoved down his boxers to free his cock and balls and the material is chafing Dean’s thighs a little but he likes it. Likes the burning feeling just like how he liked the strangling he was subjected to last time.

With a sudden realization he notices that he still has his socks on and the absurdity (and complete un-sexiness) of it makes him laugh. His whole body cramps and Cas all but fucking growls when Dean’s hole clenches around him.

“Dean.” He says warningly and sounds like he’s about to add something but forgot what. Dean knows, though, and loves it.

“Yeah, little angel.” He hushes, mouthing at Cas’ sweat-dampened hair. “Come inside, wanna feel it inside, wanna feel it pour out of me. Fucking fill me.”

Cas groans and curls around Dean, coming almost as if on command and Dean’s whole body lights up at the thought. He gasps sharply and bucks up against Cas, greedily milking the angel, and when Cas makes a half-hearted attempt at jerking Dean’s dick he goes off like a rocket and comes so hard he manages to splash Cas on his chin.

Cas looks confused and Dean can’t help but lean up and lick his chin clean of his own come.

“Dean…I-I…”

Dean clenches both his hole and his legs around Cas when the angel moves to pull back.

“Again, little angel.” He says breathlessly. “Ruin me.”

He sees the stolen grace burning behind Cas’ eyes and thinks for a wild moment that maybe this is killing Cas. Maybe the exercise is too much for him and he will die right here, in Dean’s arms.

Cas drapes his body over Dean’s and reaches up to stroke his thumb over one of Dean’s eyes. Dean closes his eyes on instinct and when he opens them again he knows they’re back to their usual human look. Cas smiles but it’s sad.

“Dean.” He says, almost as if that’s the only word he knows and somehow Dean thinks he doesn’t need any other words because he understands the angel perfectly, even when he wishes he didn’t. “Dean.”

 

 


 

 

 

Castiel is tired to the bone when he finally returns to the bunker and it has less to do with his burning grace and more to do with Dean’s antics. For the first time that Castiel can remember he wishes he hadn’t left the Heavenly Host to become a part of Team Free Will. His breath burns his throat and he struggles to swallow over the lump in his throat.

He finds Sam in the library and the younger Winchester looks up when he enters and offers him a kind smile. Somehow it tears at Castiel’s heart and he slumps down in a chair opposite Sam without being able to hide his expression.

“Are you okay?” Sam reaches across the table but can’t reach the angel and ends up resting his hand on the polished wood. Castiel glances at the large hand and the comfort the single gesture is offering. He considers taking it in his own clammy hands.

“No.”

Sam straightens with a sad expression. “Is it—?”

“It’s not the grace.” Castiel regrets interrupting Sam but what he has to say is important and they need to focus on it instead of him. “We need to come up with a plan to capture Dean.”

Over a month of this now and they haven’t even devised a plan. Castiel suspects Sam is stalling.

“What’s he done now?” Sam says, expression worried. “Has he killed again?”

Castiel knows the younger Winchester is referring to the innocent who apparently got caught in some kind of cross-fire last week and he rushes to shake his head to calm Sam.

“I met with him.”

“Did he hurt you?” Sam’s eyes wander over what he can see of Castiel’s body above the table.

“No, nothing like that.” He ripped my heart out. Again and again. And I let him, will let him. Again and again. “We talked, he’s figured out that he’s much stronger than me. He’s taunting m—us, he’s taunting us with how much he can get away with.”

Sam scrubs a hand down his face. “I still don’t understand what he’s doing. Playing with us for sure but why?”

With a flush Castiel remembers Dean’s pleading during sex and thinks that yes, to him the reason for Dean’s toying is very clear. He can’t say why but Dean obviously enjoys sex with the angel and he will most likely try for it again. He had even said as much before he escaped Castiel’s feeble grip just three days prior.

Castiel looks down at his hands in his lap, feeling unsure whether he should tell Sam the truth. He of course hasn’t told the younger Winchester about any of the other encounters but they were so brief that he didn’t think they would matter. But now it’s clear that they did.

Dean is either telling the truth and he was interested in Castiel before the mark turned him demon or he enjoys toying with the heart-broken angel, either way it’s clear that he likes what they’ve been doing. And even though Castiel had felt like he would suffocate from grief the first time, it had been such a short and anger-filled encounter that he had somehow managed to convince himself that it had spelled out closure for them.

But now…

Their last tryst was more heart-wrenching in its sweetness. Castiel still can’t figure out why Dean let him caress him like that, why the demon lulled him into the false safety and fake love. Perhaps that’s also part of his game, Castiel thinks sadly. But what kind of game? Castiel has already clearly shown Dean that he’s won, why would he keep playing with the angel?

Desperate thoughts fill him with longing but he beats them off. Dean isn’t telling the truth, Dean has never harbored any loving feelings for him outside of fierce friendship. All demons lie, Castiel knows this as a fact.

“At the moment I don’t think the reason is important.” Castiel says after a moment’s silence. “The point is that Dean will keep playing with us and will probably initiate another meeting with either me or you and we need to come up with a way to catch him. We need to be prepared.”

Sam looks pensive for a moment. “I’ve been thinking about it. We still have the demon handcuffs, right?”

“Didn’t Dean escape those?”

“Actually no.” Sam smiles wryly. “He escaped from the chair inside the demon trap. He wasn’t cuffed to the chair with the demon cuffs.” He leans his elbows on the table and looks at Castiel, serious and grim and to Cas a mocking reminder of his big brother. “So if we have the cuffs, do you think you could get close enough to put him in them without hurting yourself?”

It’s only with the aid of the burning grace that Castiel manages not to blush. “Yes.” He says and is thankful it’s not a croak. “But what do we do when we have caught him?”

Sam actually looks to the side, almost shy. “I’ve been meaning to ask, you created Dean’s body after you saved him from Hell, right?”

Castiel frowns. Sam looks almost boyish in the yellow hue from the desk lamps. “You could say I recreated what was lost.” He quirks his lips in a small smile, both at the memory and at Sam’s keen curiosity. “I used what was left of his old body, built on that.”

“Oh.” Sam sits back and looks down at the open book beside him and Castiel only now registers that it’s an anatomy book.

He folds his hands carefully in his lap and considers what Sam must have been thinking. The thought has crossed his mind too but he’s discarded it simply because of the enormity of it.

“Sam, we simply cannot create something without first sacrificing something else, not even angels are capable of creating things out of thin air.” He looks on with sad eyes as Sam slump in on himself and hates how he must drive yet another nail through the coffin. “And even if we could find every ingredient that we would need I simply don’t have the power to perform the act.”

Sam swallows. “I wouldn’t have asked that of you, not when you’re running low as it is.” He shakes his head. “I just thought, maybe with your grace restored…”

This time it’s Castiel that reaches across the table. “Metatron used up a large quantity of my grace for the spell he cast. Even if we find what is left of it I assure you that it’s nowhere near as much as when I was a Seraph.”

“So, even with all the ingredients and your own grace…?”

Castiel looks sadly at the younger Winchester. The process of creating an empty human body might be doable, Castiel can admit that to himself even if he won’t say it out loud to Sam to give him false hope.

“Even if we were successful in creating Dean a wholly new body it might not even work.”

“What do you mean? The new body wouldn’t have the mark, right?”

“Sam.” Castiel says quietly, hating how he quells Sam’s fire. “It was no problem for me to put Dean’s soul back last time because it was out of his body and yearning to get back into it. This time we would have to first rip out his soul from its original home and then force it into an empty shell. It could kill him.”

Or worse, trap his soul to an empty shell, forever tormented and unable to leave, forced to follow the hollow body while screaming in agony. Castiel can’t do that to the man he loves. He would rather spend his whole wretched existence following the Knight of Hell around and be his personal pet to try and keep him out of trouble than to force Dean’s bright soul into torment, however tainted it might be right now.

“I…” Sam heaves a big sigh. “Okay.”

“We can still look into it.” He shouldn’t encourage it but he can’t stand seeing Sam looking so dejected.

“We shouldn’t.” Sam says in that tone that Castiel knows means he will. “For the time being we should just try and get Dean back into the bunker to keep him from killing.”

Castiel nods because yes, they need to start somewhere and bringing their beloved brother and friend back to the fold is as good a start as any.

“I will review the sigils on the handcuffs.” He says and Sam manages to smile at him as he leaves, only limping slightly as the grace burns to elevate the ache he feels in his joints.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

Dean is confused and he doesn’t like it. Confusion is a human emotion and ever since the mark woke him as a Knight of Hell he’s only experienced two human emotions and that’s anger and horniness. And he doesn’t even think being horny counts as experiencing an emotion. It’s more of a physical reaction, right?

When Dean’s with Cas he’s barely angry at all, and that’s what’s confusing him. Frustrated, sure, but that could be the horniness again.

In contrast, when Dean is with Crowley he’s angry all the fucking time lately. What at first counted as a fun pastime has now started to grate on Dean’s nerves and he can’t believe he ever thought about hanging with the King of HellTM, let alone fuck him.

Dean wants to ditch the fucking King right now and see what Cas is up to but Crowley doesn’t stop talking and Dean hasn’t heard anything from Cas in days. Well, not that he ever really hears anything from Cas. It’s not like they’re texting buddies or something, not anymore at least.

But after all the sex they had last time Dean had maybe thought that Cas would want…

Dean shakes his head and downs the last of his beer, slamming the bottle down on the bar disk, making the bartender glare at him.

“What’s got your panties in a bunch?” Crowley huffs, clearly indignant about being interrupted when he was talking about whatever he thought was important. Dean rolls his eyes.

“More like what hasn’t.” He mutters. Crowley arches an eyebrow at him and sips at his much too cheerful drink. Umbrellas and everything, what the fuck?

“Have you even been listening to what I’ve been saying?”

“Not really.” Dean is fiddling with the label on his beet bottle, trying to rip it off. He has read somewhere that people who do that are sexually frustrated. He doesn’t know if it’s true in general but it sure as hell is true for him. Why the fuck is Cas being so obstinate?

“You know,” Crowley starts in a haughty tone. “You being a Knight of Hell, don’t you think you should serve your King?”

It’s Dean’s turn to arch his eyebrow. “You know,” he mocks in a fake (and bad) British accent. “Me being incredibly more powerful than you, don’t you think I should kill you?”

Crowley frowns. “I just thought you would be interested in the demon tablet, what with you being full-fledged demon now.”

Dean ignores Crowley’s irritated tone and leans closer. “Demon tablet?” he has forgotten all about those fucking tablets and Metatron and—hang on. Metatron took Cas’ grace too, didn’t he? Dean’s eyes shine with the possibilities before him. Just think about what he could make Cas do if he had the tablet or Cas’ grace or both.

“Oh no.” Crowley mutters and pushes off the barstool. “You weren’t interested before, I’m not repeating myself.”

“Aw, c’mon Fergus.” Dean smirks and walks after the King of HellTM. “One more time, huh?”

 

*****

 

Dean’s in an abandoned storage facility in Bumfuck, Nowhere (Broadus, Montana) following up on a clue Crowley had gotten about the demon tablet when Cas finds him. It looks like the clue is a bust and Dean’s just wondering why he’s the one doing the grunt work anyway when the doors open and Cas walks in.

Dean crouches behind a shelf, already feeling much better about this whole endeavor. He’s thinking Cas must be there for the tablet as well but Dean doesn’t mind that, any chance to meet with Cas is great in his mind. His butt’s just about grown empty and that’s a hole only one thing can fill nowadays.

The mark itches on his arm as he remains passive while Cas scans the small storage area.

“Dean?” he calls suddenly and actually startles Dean. “Dean, I know you’re in here.”

So, not here for the tablet then? Dean waltzes out of his hiding spot because there’s no point to it now, is there?

Cas looks both relieved and nervous but Dean understands that. Cas is after all a little sensitive and reserved about what they have been doing.

“Cas.” He practically purrs, feels how the mark sings with him like it’s been doing the last few times he thought about Cas. Cas swallows slowly. “What’re you doin’ here, little angel?”

Cas draws himself up to his full height and looks like he’s about to say something but then decides to just fuck in and instead stalks over to Dean. Dean, for his part, is so surprise he remains stationary and fuck yeah, when Cas reaches him he grabs Dean’s chin and kisses him possessively.

Well damn, Dean had kind of hoped even if he hadn’t dared voice it. But feeling Cas practically devour him like this feels like proof enough that the angel wants him too. Cas has been talking a lot about love and whatnot but Dean likes this better. Physical reactions are easy.

He moans into the kiss and goes to grab Cas’ fluffy hair but there’s a clink and suddenly Dean feels like he’s run a goddamn marathon. He staggers back a step and stares down at the demonic handcuffs that are wrapped tightly around his wrists, restraining even the mark’s immense power.

He looks up at Cas with more admiration than he cares to admit.

Cas licks his lips and looks less triumphant than Dean thinks he should. “Tag.” He whispers and Dean feels like something inside him bursts.

 

 


 

 

 

Castiel is gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning white but he can’t help it. Dean is sitting in the seat beside him, smirking widely as if his hands aren’t caught in the supernatural handcuffs, his power now bound by them.

In all honesty Castiel can’t believe how easy he had managed to trap the demon and he wonders if Dean is just playing with him. Maybe the cuffs don’t actually work on a Knight of Hell?

“Well shit, Cas.” Dean laughs as he stretches out in the seat. “Who knew you’d have it in you to go all Elizabeth Swann on me?”

Thanks to Metatron forcing pop culture in to Castiel’s brain he now understands that reference and flushes bright red when he sees the similarities between him kissing Dean to cuff him and Elizabeth Swann kissing Jack Sparrow to cuff him.

“Worked, didn’t it?” he mutters and stubbornly keeps his eyes on the road. The pickup truck he’s driving is a little beat up and he does not want to be caught standing by the side of the road with demon Dean handcuffed in the truck. Not when he has finally managed to catch the demon.

“It sure did.” The cuffs’ chain clinks as Dean moves around. “So what’s the plan?”

“I’m taking you back to the bunker and—what are you doing?”

Dean stops squirming in his seat and blinks at Castiel. “Well fuck Cas, I thought I told you.” He reaches down and grabs the insides of his thighs, using the chain to perfectly frame his already prominent erection. “Bondage is kinda my thing.”

“Bond…” Castiel shakes his head and turns to the road again. The stolen grace flares inside him as arousal trickles through his body. “This is not the time for-for sexual…” he clears his throat and shifts in his seat, worries about what Dean is doing to him. Just being near the demon is making desire pump through Castiel. He had known it would be a bad idea to give in.

The first time had been adrenaline and anger, frustration and sadness. The second time had been foolish.

Now Castiel feels forever caught in the web of desire and lies that Dean has spun and he’s scared that he doesn’t even want to break free. He should have mentioned this to Sam, should have begged the younger Winchester to help him. Sam would have helped him, he’s sure. There wouldn’t have been much, if any, judgment from him. But still Castiel had kept his mouth shut and how he doesn’t even know if it was because of pride and shame or if it was because he wanted to experience Dean once more.

Because he is sure that Sam would convince him to keep away from the demon. However supporting he believes the younger brother would be of a potential relationship, Sam would look at this and only see the danger and heartache and he would have all the right arguments for Castiel to stop. And Castiel is scared to know that he doesn’t want to stop, not just yet.

Still, he has to try.

“Stop that.” He says, not even a fraction as harshly as he had intended. Dean keeps rolling his hips up against the chain, rubbing the links over his bulge.

“Cas.” He drawls. “You look so fucking good. New tie and everything, what’s the occasion?”

Castiel is glad for the distraction when images of Claire Novak comes to his mind and quells his arousal. She had looked so fierce last time he had seen her and he feels proud of her even if he wishes she had come with him to the bunker.

“Someone told me this look suits me.”

“Who?” Dean’s tone is suddenly biting and when Castiel chances a glance to the side he’s startled to see black demon eyes staring back at him under a tight brow.

Castiel swallows hard and refuses to meet Dean’s eyes. God help him, he can’t meet them and not become aroused. The blackness, the infinite evil, the ultimate proof of what Dean has become, they should be a reminder of everything lost. And they are. But they are also…

Castiel shifts again, desperate to again quell his newly flared arousal but it won’t go away with Dean’s black eyes boring into him like this.

“It…doesn’t matter.” The truck is too small, Dean’s scent reaching him and making him react so violently.

Who?” Dean demands again, harder. He slides across the bench seat but Castiel pushes him back. “Cas.

Dean might be a demon but with his hands bound by the cuffs he’s no stronger than a mere human again and even with his stolen grace failing him Cas is stronger than Dean now. That feels comforting.

Dean looks positively livid and Castiel gets a sick thrill at the thought of Dean’s jealousy. Yes, let him feel what Castiel has felt for years, watching as Dean flirted with just about anyone with two legs. He has suffered for so long, why not let Dean suffer too? Especially now that the demon sees fit to toy with Castiel’s affections.

One look at Dean’s pained anger breaks Castiel’s conviction, though.

“It was Claire.” He says quietly. Dean stops snarling.

“Claire Novak?”

Castiel sighs. “I had to wear a tie to pretend to be Jimmy Novak to get her out of a juvenile center. She told me she likes me better in a tie.”

“So…Claire is living with you guys now?”

Why does Dean even want to know? What possible use could he have for that information? Castiel turns this over for a while but comes up short and decides to be honest.

“No, she decided to be on her own.”

“Huh.” Dean is leaning against the back of the seat. “Tough broad, I’ll give her that.”

“Don’t you dare go after her.” He doesn’t even know where that thought came from.

Dean raises an eyebrow and Castiel realizes to his dismay that Dean is still sporting those infernal black eyes and Castiel’s arousal hasn’t gone away even with this topic. It must be the dwindling grace making him human before it kills him, it’s the best explanation he can come up with for his lack of self-control.

“Claire?” Dean snorts out a laugh and goes back to massaging his inner thighs with his strong hands. Castiel is only half looking at the road and knows it’s dangerous but can’t manage to care. “Hate to disappoint you but I’ve only got eyes for one person right now.” He turns to Castiel, meets his eyes boldly and grinning all the while. “Or should I say angel?”

Castiel wants to ask why but can barely manage to swallow. He looks back at the road, both hands on the steering wheel, white-knuckling it again.

“Don’t joke, Dean. It’s cruel.”

“Ain’t joking, little angel.” Dean says, his voice suddenly a little breathless.

Castiel should hate the way Dean says “little angel” and he has wanted to ever since Dean first said it in such a disrespectful tone. That tone has turned softer and sultrier over the weeks, though, and Castiel can’t hate it to save his life. He can hate how it makes his heart flutter, though, as if the endearment means anything to Dean, as if it isn’t a clear mockery of everything Castiel used to be.

Castiel sees movement in the corner of his eye and knows from the rhythmic ruffling sound that Dean has taken up humping the chain again. He grits his teeth and silently calculates how long they have left. Hours, surely, and there’s nothing he can do about that. Dean is going to drive him insane.

“What happened to your pimpmobile?” Dean asks suddenly and Castiel closes his eyes momentarily at how rough Dean’s voice sounds. “Would’ve been golden to fuck in that car, damn.”

Castiel suddenly gets a wild image of Dean spread-eagle on the hood of his Lincoln Continental and he feels his erection twitch.

“It’s…” he has to clear his throat, refuses to look at Dean. “There was some kind of weird sound coming from the engine. Sam said he would look at it for me.”

“So Sammy’s the mechanic now, huh?” Dean questions but he fails at sounding nonchalant.

Castiel loosens his grip on the steering wheel. “What did you expect, you left.”

It’s a cheap shot but why not? Why can’t he get a jab in now and then?

Dean growls wordlessly and then proceeds with making every annoyed sound there is, huffing and puffing like a little child, to get the angel’s attention.

“Fine.” He spits eventually when almost two miles has passed without Castiel reacting. “You got me, alright? Got me cuffed real tight, gonna bring me home like a price to your new Winchester boy?” Dean is angry again, Castiel can clearly tell. Does he really think he’s been replaced by Sam? The notion of Dean’s jealousy is once again sickeningly thrilling. “You gonna fuck me one last time or what?”

“We shouldn’t have done that to begin with.”

“Fuck you, Cas.” Dean hisses and kicks at the dashboard as best he can in the cramped space. “You’ve been in love with me since fucking forever. You rebelled again Heaven for me, you saying you’re pansying out now?” he laughs evilly and Castiel’s blood boils with rightful anger at hearing Dean laugh at him and his feelings.

“If I had known what heartache you would bring me I would have let you to burn in Hell.” He says under his breath but doesn’t mean it, of course not. It doesn’t matter because Dean still hears him and doesn’t know how desperately Castiel still loves him.

“Well fucking excuse me!” Dean hollers, thrashes in his seat now. “I can’t help it that you’re weak, Castiel. Can’t help it that you’re a failure of an angel. You’ve fucking ruined me, you know that? Great job fucking up the Righteous Man, asshole!”

The truck jerks when Castiel hastily veers it off the country road. Dean isn’t wearing a seatbelt and must catch himself with his cuffed hands on the dashboard when Castiel breaks hard enough for the gravel under them to spray up behind the truck.

I’ve ruined you?” he says dangerously. Dean is looking at him with black eyes, challenging him to continue. “I, who fell from Heaven’s grace because of you, I ruined you?”

Dean opens his mouth but Castiel is sick and tired of Dean’s lies. Anger boils inside him and the stolen grace burns within him because of it, preparing him for a fight that he knows would kill him.

The truck’s door creaks ominously when Castiel kicks it open and he’s around the truck so fast that Dean barely has time to twirl around in his seat.

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean exclaims when the angel yanks him out of his seat. He manages to get his feet under him just in time to not fall in a heap in front of the angel but that’s about it.

He’s unsteady and clumsy and smacks his head against the truck when Castiel shoves him around to press him up against the cool metal. The angel presses close to Dean’s back, the adrenaline and Dean’s earlier antics has kept him hard and he lets the demon know this by grinding his erection against Dean’s ass.

“What’s the matter, Dean?” Castiel says gruffly against Dean’s ear. “I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” He grabs Dean by the scuff of his neck and pulls him out slightly. “Hands on the roof, demon.”

Dean obeys with what can only constitute as a needy whine and he’s pressing back against Castiel’s crotch. The anger is seeping away, replaced by carnal lust and Castiel hates to give in to this side — even last time in the Shapeshifter’s house where Dean had allowed him tenderness Castiel had been reduced to fucking the demon harder than first intended — but now he can’t bother to care.

Dean has asked for it, even went so far as to try and hurt Castiel to get this reaction out of him and Castiel is tired of pretending that the demon isn’t succeeding in his crude seduction. Dean evidently wants it rough and Castiel wants Dean.

He takes a moment to unbutton Dean’s jeans and pull down the zipper. Dean’s own hard-on is pressing insistently against Castiel’s fingers but he ignores it in favor of pulling down the jeans. They’re out in the open by the road, the truck shields them partially from passing traffic — of which there seems to be none at the moment — but this is still not very private at all. With that in mind he pushes Dean’s jeans and underwear just below his plump ass, just enough to give Castiel access, and he doesn’t care in the least that this will prevent Dean from spreading his legs.

“I’m not preparing you.” Castiel growls against Dean’s ear, biting at the skin just below when Dean only moans in answer.

He does fumble a bit with his own pants and is glad Dean doesn’t see. He wants this, wants Dean, but he’s still nervous about harming the demon. The anger is keeping the sadness away but Castiel is pragmatic and he knows how much this act will hurt him later. It doesn’t keep him from freeing his erection and pressing the head to Dean’s tight hole, though.

“Fuck yes.” Dean suddenly gasps and Castiel realizes he has paused with one hand on his dick and one on Dean’s hip to keep him still. “Do it, want you.”

Would human Dean beg for him? Castiel hopes so.

“Quiet, demon.” He snarls and grabs Dean’s neck again, holding him still that way even as he presses inside.

It’s a tight fit — too tight without opening Dean up first — but the grace flows from him into Dean and makes the demon relax all the necessary muscles. It’s still too dry and Castiel pulls back out only to spit down at his dick, coating it in saliva before pressing in again. It’s marginally better and Dean seems to be in seventh heaven either way.

“Cas.” Dean moans continuously as Castiel presses all the way inside. “Feels so fucking perfect.”

Castiel starts thrusting almost immediately when he’s bottomed out and Dean bucks back to meet him. The truck is even wobbling on its suspenders with the force of their fucking and the demon cuffs clink against the metal roof.

“Dean.” Castiel murmurs and brushes his lips against the back of Dean’s hair in a move so soft it’s completely in contrast to how hard he’s forcing himself into the demon’s plaint body.

“Fuck, Cas.” Dean groans in answer, his hole clenching around Castiel’s hard-on. “Never had any better, never want anyone else. Fill me up, stretch me out.” He whines at a particularly hard thrust. “Claim me.”

Castiel wishes nothing more. “You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Dean.” He mumbles, eyes clenched shut against the tears there. The pleasure surging through him is overwhelming and he knows he’s at the brink much too fast.

He snakes one arm around Dean to grab the shirt over his chest and grabs Dean’s hard dick with his other hand. The demon practically mewls and starts fucking into his hand immediately, as best he can.

“You better…fuck, Imma come, you—fuck!” Dean is slamming back against Castiel’s thrusts and Castiel has stopped caring about where they are or why they are doing this. Has stopped caring about everything but the beautiful sounds Dean is making. “I never come this fast usually.” Dean grits out, almost as an apology.

Castiel buries his face in the crook of Dean’s neck, biting his sweaty skin lightly. “Come for me, Dean. Show me all of you.”

Dean comes with a wail, spasming so hard he bangs his knee against the truck. Castiel presses in close and enjoys the way Dean is shaking in his arms. Enjoys how the demon relies on him not to fall.

Castiel’s own orgasm washes over him like a tidal wave. He comes hard with his eyes scrunched shut and lips pressed against Dean’s skin. He wants to hide there forever, buried deep inside Dean where everything is warm and tight and the world is simple.

But the moment is broken when a car drives past them, the whooshing sound enough to break the serene silence and Castiel peels off Dean’s back with regret. He pulls out slowly and winces when he sees his own come dribbled out of Dean’s hole. He wants to kneel and lick it up, clean Dean and worship him like he’s imagined.

But he doesn’t. Instead he just helps pull up Dean’s jeans and tucks in his softening dick, careful not to hurt it with the zipper.

“I’m sorry I can’t clean you up.” He means with his grace, now.

Dean looks like he’s just about to suggest what Castiel had been thinking about moments earlier but one look on the angel’s face makes the demon look away. Castiel tilts his head to the side and regards Dean’s flushed face.

“‘S okay, would been hella awkward if what drained your grace was cleaning jizz off me.”

Castiel doesn’t know why but Dean looks and sounds like himself when he says that and instead of making Castiel feel sad for what is lost he feels happy for what he once had.

“We’ll probably need to stop for gas before we reach the bunker, maybe you could clean up in the station’s bathroom?”

Dean smiles, looks at Castiel with human eyes. “Maybe you could help me with that?”

“Maybe you could shut up for the rest of the drive there and we’ll see.”

Castiel should feel worse after this — he had anticipated that he would, after all — but somehow he doesn’t. He even turns on the radio and doesn’t admonish Dean for not being quiet when the demon starts singing along to the rock song that comes on.

 

 


 

 

 

Dean’s feeling pretty fucking stoked, to be honest. Stoked enough to just grin lewdly at Cas when they stop at a gas station in Bladen, Nebraska not even an hour away from the bunker and the angel suggests Dean uses the time to utilize the toilets.

“Nah, I’m good, we’re pretty close to the finish line.” Dean makes sure that Cas sees how he wriggles his butt against the seat. “Besides, wouldn’t people think it’s weird I’m walking around with handcuffs on? They’d probably think we’re into some pretty kinky shit.” Which is true and Dean wants to scream it from the rooftops.

But Cas of course only blushes prettily and mutters something about getting gas and Dean behaving. Dean’s tempted to ask the angel to buy him a snack but ends up just shrugging and watching the angel figure out how the gas pump works at this station.

He can still feel Cas’ spunk between his ass cheeks and sure, it’s objectively gross but Dean kind of likes it. Likes to own something of Cas. The suspenders on the truck are pretty bad too so he’s been feeling his ass this whole ride because damn if Cas didn’t give it to him hard. Dean should have known making the angel mad would give him the best sex.

Cas looks up and startles a little when he sees Dean staring openly at him. Dean wriggles his fingers in a small wave and chuckles when Cas only rolls his eyes at him and starts walking into the gas station to pay. He misses Cas’ old trench coat but this shorter one offers more of a view so Dean supposes it’s alright. Damn, Cas has some great legs.

When Crowley’s face suddenly appears in the window Dean jerks back with a frankly unmanly yelp.

“Sonuvabitch!” he practically slams the door in Crowley’s chest when he pushes to open it. “You scared the crap outta me.”

“I always forget how delightfully crude you are.” Crowley sniffs indignantly. “I said your name, it’s not my fault you were busy staring at your new fuckbuddy. And really, Dean?” he stares in distaste at what can be seen of Cas through the windows. He’s in line for the register. “The angel? Can you be more cliché?”

“How’s it cliché of me to want to fuck Cas?”

“How is it not cliché of a demon to want to fuck an angel?”

Dean stares grumpily at his (kinda) colleague because okay, point taken, but it’s not about that and judging by Crowley’s smug face he knows it too. Dean was always the last one to know things like this.

“What are you even doing here?”

“What do you think?” Crowley crowds him against the truck, obscuring Dean’s view of Cas, fingering the cuffs’ chain. “I’m breaking you out, again.”

“Thought you said you wouldn’t do that?”

Crowley shrugs. “I say lots of things. Are you saying you don’t want to be free?”

Dean actually thinks about it for a moment. Sure, he’s not exactly excited about hearing Sammy’s nagging and he doesn’t want Cas and Sam to try and cure him but on the other hand he doesn’t want to let go of Cas yet. Well, he still wants to fuck the angel, that’s all. And what’s to say it couldn’t work out? Dean’s been hunting as a Knight for a while now while messing with Cas and it’s been so fucking simple with his new powers and all.

Maybe the three of them could even be like the A-team? A hunter, an angel, and a demon walks into a bar, something like that? Dean thinks it could be awesome.

On the other hand: cures, Sammy’s puppy eyes, Cas dying, Cas…

“Of course I wanna be free you idiot.” He snaps and doesn’t like how smug Crowley looks now. It’s a different kind of smugness and Dean likes this one even less.

“Always so feisty.”

“Just shut up and get me out of here.”

Crowley chuckles and reaches up to grab Dean by the neck as he claims his lips in a harsh kiss. Dean scrunches up his face but allows it because he knows Crowley will be easier to deal with that way. Can’t wait until he gets out of these fucking cuffs, though. Crowley can think he’ll get a good fucking for his troubles all he wants but Dean knows very well that that’s not gonna happen. Not when he’s got Cas wrapped around his little finger.

 

 


 

 

 

Castiel isn’t sure how he managed to drive the last 45 minutes back to the bunker. He can only hope that he hasn’t actually caused an accident somewhere along the road. He’s nauseous and shaking and just thinking about returning to the bunker without Dean feels like dying.

Seeing Dean and Crowley kiss had felt like dying.

Castiel actually throws up a little when he’s parked the truck outside the bunker. Leaning back against the truck and his precious tie safely tossed over his shoulder he coughs up bile between his feet.

He wonders with detachment why he’s so hurt by this. He had known (should have known) that Dean was playing with him all along. Memories of every sweet word and every tender caress feels like acid in his mind. He’s tired, scared, and so heartbroken he doesn’t even care that the grace is burning hot, trying to elevate a pain so sharp that Castiel feels like physically ripping out his heart.

He stumbles when he comes through the door, catches himself against the railing to prevent himself from falling over. Of course Sam happens to be in the map room as he staggers down the stairs and the younger Winchester’s strong arms around him feels like cruel mockery of what he really wants.

“Cas!” Sam exclaims, clearly upset. “What happened, are you hurt?” Sam tries to make him sit down in one of the chairs but Castiel needs to leave, now. Needs to be alone.

“Dean.” He gasps and grasps his shirt over his chest as both emotional pain from the heartbreak and physical pain from the grace sears through him. “Crowley took him.” Castiel can’t look at Sam, can’t focus his eyes even if he had wanted to meet the man’s eyes.

Sam seems to understand immediately and puts one hand on Castiel’s shoulder to support him when the angel sways on his feet. “Hey, it’s okay.”

It’s not okay. Castiel failed in his mission and Dean, Dean is-is…

“Dean.” He says pitifully but good God, he can’t cry, not here. “Sam, I’m so sorry…”

“No, Cas.” Sam’s soft smile is genuine but somehow it makes Castiel feel even worse. “All that matters is that you’re okay. You shouldn’t have been going alone anyway.”

“We were in Bladen.” Castiel says and doesn’t even know why that’s important.

“Not much to it when Crowley can teleport.” Sam says kindly and tries to get Castiel to sit down again.

“I…If I had my wings…”

Then they wouldn’t have had to drive. Castiel could have just taken Dean back to the bunker in the blink of an eye. Finding Dean could still be difficult considering the etchings on his ribs but they can scribe for him like they had this time. Sam seems to have come to the same conclusion and Castiel has an apology for his inadequacy on the tip of his tongue.

“I have been thinking.” Sam says and sighs. “We should try and talk to Metatron about your grace. I have been searching like an idiot but I can’t find it and you need it.”

“I’m not important.” Castiel rasps. Dean has made that abundantly clear. “But I suppose my wings…”

Sam puts a hand on Castiel’s neck, just under his ear, and his hand is so big his thumb ends up resting on Castiel’s sweaty cheek.

“You are important.” Sam says steadily and Castiel feels his lips tremble with disbelief and grief. “Plus, after we’ve cured Dean he would kill me if he found out I had let you die on my watch.”

It’s clearly an attempt at jesting but it only makes Castiel lose his precious control.

Crowley holding Dean tightly. Dean pressed up against Castiel’s truck. The demon between his legs. Their lips together. Dean had his eyes closed.

He turns around, slinks out of Sam’s loose grip to show his back to the man. “Maybe…” his voice is trembling too. He can’t do anything about it. “Maybe we should talk to Metatron. I’ll see about it.”

“Cas…”

“I need a shower, I threw up before I came inside.”

Sam calls out for him as he leaves but he ignores the man. He shouldn’t have admitted to being sick. Now Sam will feel even worse about the grace when that’s not even the problem. Well, not the entire problem. Castiel wants to tell Sam and hear his calm and logical take on what has happened but his humiliation is too great.

He had actually, for a moment, believed in Dean but of course it had all been lies. Dean is a demon now and the man he loves is already lost. Castiel had known this but he still feels completely unable to handle the situation. All he’s capable of doing right now is hunch in the shower and cry against his knees, letting the water wash away his shame.

 

*****

 

Castiel feels all dried up after hours spent on the bathroom floor, even though most of that time was spent in the shower. When he finally picks himself up he feels numb and kind of awed at the astonishing amount of water the bunker apparently can supply.

He knows Sam has been knocking on the door, sounding concerned and Castiel looks sullenly at his own reflection, berating himself for making the younger Winchester worry like that. Lately it seems all he does is make Sam worry and Dean laugh.

His hands curl into fists and he snarls at his reflection, feeling the stolen grace flare as his anger grows. He can’t do anything right, not even handle his emotions. Yes, the stolen grace forcing him into mortality has a hand in that but mostly it’s his fault. He’s the one that’s failing and it’s always made him so sad, so incredibly sad.

But now he starts feeling angry.

And it feels good. Feels righteous. But he’s cautious as well, mostly because anger is a human emotion just like any other but also because the two times he’s expressed anger with Dean he has ended up fucking the demon hard.

Castiel shakes his head at himself, drops of water flying everywhere from his still soaked hair. No more explosive anger, he’s calm, he’s in control now and he knows what he must do.

Sam has insisted that they find his grace and he has opposed this because finding Dean has been paramount to him. But he can see how wrong he’s been. If he dies he can’t help Dean and he certainly can’t help Sam.

He has let the younger brother worry while he let the older toy with him. Well, no more. Castiel grits his teeth against the surge of grace inside him, welcomes the pain. He needs his own grace to battle Dean and to calm Sam. For some reason Sam thinks Castiel’s life is almost as important as his brother’s and while Castiel can’t agree he can understand. Sam is after all almost as important to him as Dean, even more so in some aspects, mostly considering Sam is the brother that is still human and still fighting.

Yes, Castiel thinks with fury, Sam hasn’t given up on any of them but so has Dean and, infinitely worse, so had Castiel. He had given up on himself, on his love for Dean, on Sam’s relentlessness. But no more.

He leans against the sink, hunches over it and comes face to face with himself — with his own worst enemy. The next step is clear to him, logical, and one Sam has advocated. He will go and meet with Metatron and he will get his grace back.

He’s shaking, both with anger and with cold, and it makes him even angrier but he knows that won’t end well. The anger is fueling him not to give up but it could just as easily kill him at this stage. He needs to rest and hates that he does but at the same time doesn’t argue it. He’s been pushing himself for Sam and Dean (and to be honest, for himself) and now the stolen grace is taking its toll.

With heavy feet he drags himself to bunker room number 15, an inconspicuous room just like all the others but his preferred room ever since his human days, and he’s glad he doesn’t meet Sam on the way. He doesn’t want to further upset Sam and knows that with some rest he will look his old self again, for the time being.

 

 


 

 

 

Sam is worried. Well, more worried, to be precise.

Lately it feels as if all Sam does is worry. But with Dean being what he is now (and refusing help) there hasn’t seemed to be much else for him to do. He’s been creating a network of hunters to keep his mind busy but he hasn’t let it distract him from what’s really important here.

And with Cas coming home yesterday, looking pale and sweaty and actually admitting to Sam that he’d been throwing up, there’s really no arguing what’s important. Dean is a demon, a Knight of Hell, and for the moment there’s not changing that but at least he’s not actively dying.

Cas, on the other hand…

He can downplay it all he wants but Sam can see it on him and hear it in his voice and it scares him. The angel has been coughing and huffing for a while but Sam has kind of hoped that the grace Crowley forced into the angel had helped but no, thinking back it seems it might have only made it worse.

So Sam has shifted his focus onto Cas, even though the angel has been grumpy about that, and Sam is glad for it. The state in which Cas came home yesterday was frankly frightening. And to be honest, it wasn’t just that Cas had been upset about losing Dean on the way.

Sam understands that, understands the feeling of hopelessness (especially for Cas, who used to be able to fly and keep up with demons like Crowley), and understands the almost painful frustration with Dean and the whole situation. And, Sam recalls, when they were fighting off the Apocalypse and Cas was cut off from the Heavenly Host he started falling into humanity and therefore started experiencing human things like emotion and sickness. This failing grace within him is, aside from killing him, of course making him somewhat human in the process. Emotions are to be expected.

But Sam is no fool. He had seen the red-rimmed eyes and he knows something is up. Cas is Dean’s best friend and Sam doesn’t doubt that Dean’s demonhood is taking a toll on the angel but now he feels uncertain of just how much of a toll.

No doubt Cas’ dwindling grace is influencing the angel, though, and that is why Sam has decided to do his best to convince Cas to go to Metatron. Sam has been searching high and low, he has put several hunters on the case, but no one has found anything, not even a clue. By now he’s convinced that Metatron must have put a powerful protection spell on it, most likely one that cannot be broken by anyone but the scribe.

As he sits and sips his morning coffee he decides to wait for a moment, though. Cas obviously needs to collect himself and, even more alarming, when Sam had gone to Cas’ room last night to talk to the angel and offer comfort when he knows Cas tends to take every failure all too personal, he had found the angel sound asleep.

His hair had been damp and his brow had been drawn in a frown. Sam still feels a little shell-shocked at seeing his friend looking so vulnerable. Sure, Cas has fallen from grace before, Cas has actually been human at one point, but last night, looking down at Cas’ sad and pained face, Sam felt faced with the stark reality that Cas might actually not make it through this time.

Cas might actually die and stay dead and Sam might not be enough to help him. And Dean wouldn’t even care because he’s a demon and Cas would rather exert himself to the point of collapse to help his friend instead of taking care of himself. And Dean won’t see it.

It’s a reality that Sam really should be well-acquainted with because he’s known both of these things for a while now. But seeing them on Cas’ sleeping face had felt like a bucket of ice cold water and Sam is still reeling from it.

 

 

Chapter Text

 

 

Dean entertains Crowley for a while but eventually he gets bored of the King of HellTM. Having tasted Cas, Dean can hardly understand how he even managed to touch Crowley to begin with and he refuses to do so now. Crowley gets all pissy because of course he does and he refuses to share further clues about the demon tablet. Dean’s not concerned; he’ll get them later for sure.

Anyway, now that he has Cas wrapped around his finger Dean doesn’t really feel a need for anyone else because why would he? Cas is strong (even when dying) and handsome. Sure, being with him leaves a taste of melancholy but that’s easily forgotten during their encounters and fucking hell, the angel really knows how to fuck.

Slow or fast, Dean has found he likes it either way with Cas. Well, the last time up against Cas’ fugly truck had probably been the best so far but Dean’s not been disappointed as of yet. Now, as he lies on a cheap motel bed, stroking his dick lazily, he wonders how he can use Crowley’s plans to get the demon tablet to reel Cas in.

Crowley has inferred that Cas would be interested in the tablet, or perhaps at least interested in the demons not having it. Either which way, Dean feels confident that Cas will come running if Dean has the tablet and Dean likes it when Cas chases him.

Just thinking about the fact that Cas had actually taken the time to trick Dean in order to capture him with the demon handcuffs makes him hot all over. He bites his lower lip and strokes harder, squeezes his dick and speeds up his strokes.

He’s naked, uncaring about being bashful. Both because he’s alone but also because being a Knight of Hell comes with the perk of teleportation. And a guilt-free conscience. Dean imagines it’s about the same as being soulless. Except, well he can feel emotions, he’s just afforded the luxury of being able to not care about them, at all. It’s awesome and makes teasing Cas so much easier because Dean knows that he should feel bad about it (and would feel bad if he had been human) but he totally doesn’t and that fact somehow makes it even better.

Cas, in contrast, shows a great range of emotions which Dean finds both hot and hilarious. When they first met Cas was like a robot and now he’s evolved so much Dean feels like a slug in comparison. It’s funny to think about how their roles, emotion-wise, has switched places.

Dean grins up at the ceiling, feeling the mark sing along with his arousal. He has his legs spread but isn’t touching his hole at all. He wants to feel tight next time he gets Cas to fuck him. The last time without prep had been divine but Dean knows Cas wants to be more gentle and maybe next time he’ll want to softly open Dean up or some shit like that.

Dean’s whole body jolts with pleasure at the thought and Dean grits his teeth in confusion. Because he likes it rough, right? He slows his strokes and thinks about it. Cas being forceful is really the best, showing off his inhuman strength and dominating Dean. Yeah, yeah that’s good. Maybe slap him around?

And then…

Dean bites his lip again when an unexpected moan bubbles up.

Then Cas would use his slender fingers to prod and press inside. To stretch Dean and to massage his prostate insistently. Dean’s hips start pumping slowly, as if on their own accord. His hole is twitching but he reaches up to pinch one of his nipples instead of plunging two fingers inside himself like he wants to.

If he draws this out, if he can keep from playing with himself too much, then he just fucking knows the sex with Cas will be even better. But shit, it’s difficult. He’s so hard and the feather-light touches he’s giving himself now makes him ache with need. He closes his eyes and imagines Cas hovering above him, just like he had done in that Shapeshifter’s house.

Dean is still amazed that Cas chose to have sex with Dean with the dead Shapeshifter just there. It made it so fucking hot for Dean because it felt both like Cas couldn’t wait another second for Dean’s body and that Cas thought both him and Dean to be above the filthy Shapeshifter. Why not have sex right next to her corpse, it wasn’t like she mattered anyway, right? Not like them. Cas matters a whole fucking lot.

Dean almost whines when he accidentally pinches himself too hard, his nipples have always been sensitive but here in the chilly motel room with the pleasure coursing so sharply through him, they feel like hard nubs and every touch sends electrical chills down his spine.

“Cas.” Dean moans, completely unabashed in his arousal. “Want you inside, little angel.”

Not so little, though, goddamn. Hadn’t Cas once said his real form was as big as the Empire State Building? He could squash Dean under his foot and not even fucking notice.

Weirdly enough, it’s the thought of Cas’ enormous visage crushing Dean in his hand that makes Dean hurtle over the edge with a strangled scream. Dean thinks he probably should feel bad (or embarrassed) about that but he doesn’t. Just feels content to float in the post-orgasmic bliss as he imagines Cas’ face when he tells the angel about this particular fantasy.

 

 


 

 

 

Castiel screams wordlessly as the holy light of his true grace surges through his vessel-body, searing away the false grace and making him glow white-hot. His great wings unfold with a mighty gust and the poor library he’s in is practically blown to bits with the force of his awakening.

It’s immediately clear to him that Metatron had used a substantial amount of Castiel’s grace for that accursed spell and he’s nowhere near his Seraph power level. He is, however, no longer dying, clearly hundredfold stronger than moments ago, and in possession of his wings once more.

He falls to his knees, moaning in relief when his grace purges the ailments of his tired body. His wings stretch, hit the walls, fold and stretch again. He needs to fly, needs the freedom and needs to feel his wings working once more.

Sam has feared that Castiel’s wings would be lost forever just like the other angels’ but Castiel never doubted. The other angels’ wings had burned when they had been cast from Heaven but Castiel had already been human then, trapped down on Earth with the aching agony of knowing that he had failed his brethren. His wings had been trapped as well, together with his grace in the little container Metatron had forced it into, flailing and failing to break free.

As a human all he had been able to do was grieve his loss but as an angel living on stolen grace he had felt his wings twitching and itching, reaching for him but still trapped as the stolen grace refused to answer the wings’ call. In hindsight Castiel doesn’t know what had been worse; feeling his wings but being unable to use them or not feeling them at all.

In any case they are free now, restored and roaring to take flight.

Castiel is hindered in the moment before he takes flight, though, by a premonition of danger. Not his own, but someone in his care. Honing in on the beacon of fright he flaps his wings and can’t help but smile when he feel them carry him without hesitance or weakness.

His smile drains away when he lands by the person from where the fright and danger emanated. Seconds too late, he feel like he’s always seconds too late, and now Metatron lies dead by Castiel’s feet.

Convincing Hannah to let Castiel talk to Metatron hadn’t been easy, convincing the rest of the angels to let him take Metatron with him had been even harder. He had had to promise time and again to keep the scribe safe and the other angels only relented when Metatron told them he could lead Castiel to the demon tablet.

The tablet had been far from Castiel’s mind but it was clear to him that Metatron wanted out of Heaven’s prison and would sacrifice anything to get his will. He would go with Castiel willingly and the other angels made Castiel promise to protect him so he could show them the demon tablet, which they were incredibly interested in.

Sam had wanted to come with them when he heard about the demon tablet, wanted the table as much as he wanted Castiel’s grace because he was sure the tablet could save Dean. But Metatron had protested Sam joining them (even going so far as to claim that the tablet won’t help Dean) and Castiel had conceded, once again overestimating his own capacity and still fearing for Sam’s well-being.

Castiel didn’t trust Metatron and he had been right to do so seeing as the scribe had run away with the demon tablet first chance he got. Looking down at the sorry corpse his once magnificent being now makes, Castiel can only feel sadness and inadequacy.

With a sigh he bends down to retrieve the corpse, careful not to step on the seared black wings on the ground. He prepares himself for whatever punishment the Heavenly Host will see fit and then takes flight up into the skies, completely unable to not enjoy the stretch of his wings, despite his heavy burden.

 

 


 

 

 

Dean turns the demon tablet over in his hands, looking intently at the (to him) useless scribblings while Crowley lounges on his throne, looking smugger than usual.

This is just perfect. With the demon tablet in his possession, Dean feels like a world of opportunities has opened for him. He can see just about the same feelings playing on the King’s face and Dean thinks he better nip that in the bud and quickly.

“This is great.” Dean hefts the tablet in his hand, smirking.

“I know.” Crowley leans back and steeples his fingers. “Too bad I had to kill the angel, though. He might have proven useful.”

Dean pretends to look over the tablet to get out of looking at Crowley. He knows the demon is baiting him and he flushes with anger over it. Yes, Metatron had been the one to kill Dean and in doing so inadvertently causing him to become a demon but if Crowley thinks Dean harbors some kind of resentment or hatred because of that he’s wrong. Metatron is dead, good. Dean didn’t have to be the one to kill him, so long he stays dead.

“It doesn’t matter.” Dean shrugs.

“He could have read the tablet for us.”

Dean doesn’t know why Crowley is the one pushing when he was the one to plunge the angel blade into Metatron’s soft vessel.

“Not sure he could, besides, that’s what he have prophets for, Fergus.” Dean smirks when Crowley as usual sours at the mention of his human birth name.

“Well we better get cracking.” He mutters. “There’s a lot on it and I want it.”

“What can possibly be on it that you want? Instructions on how to make demon bombs and ways to close the gates of Hell. Doesn’t really sound like something we’d wanna do right now.”

Crowley looks at Dean with an air of superiority and Dean grits his teeth as fresh anger washes over him. Fucking hell he hates this smarmy ass.

“Ah Dean, Dean, Dean. So young and stupid. If there are instructions on it on how to close the gates of Hell, don’t you think there are also instructions on how to open them? And make sure they remain open?”

Dean raises an eyebrow and looks down at the tablet. Actually, no he hadn’t really considered that at all.

“Aren’t they open now?”

Dean has been a demon for quite a while now but he hasn’t set foot down in Hell, not once. He tells himself it’s not because he’s scared but deep down he knows better. But why would he go down there? He’s got everything he needs here, thank you very much, and the demons that come up here seem extremely keen on not going back down.

Crowley shakes his head. “Not really, little cracks here and there and some of us are apt enough to travel them with ease. But most of everything down in Hell is perpetually stuck there. Do you remember a certain gate that you and your little brother failed to keep closed?” he smirks and continues even though Dean is already remembering. “A gate that Alastair very much wanted to open and through which old papa Winchester fled Hell.”

“I remember.” Dean says, irritated.

“Remember how much escaped during the short time that was open? Imagine if all gates of Hell would be open, forever.”

Dean does imagine it, vividly, and doesn’t know that he necessarily likes it. Sure, he’s a demon now and he wants mayhem and chaos and every other synonym but damn, if the forces of Hell were released they would chew through Earth in a matter of days and then what would be the fun? Nothing would be left, would it?

No more humans to torture, no more pie to eat.

The angels would go to war against them, sure, and maybe some humans would survive to ally themselves with the celestial beings. But every day would be war and fighting and while the mark sings its praise to that thought Dean thinks it would be a bummer to miss out on all the beer and sex he’s been having now.

All Hell let loose and there would be only work to do. But, again, he is a demon, so…

“Sounds like a plan, Fergus.” Dean says with a smirk. “In any case I’ll be taking this and use it to lure in Cas.”

Crowley goes from looking pleased that Dean sees the brilliance in his plan to looking confusedly angry at the prospect of Dean leaving with the tablet.

“Like bloody hell you will.”

Dean walks up to Crowley’s throne and leans on it to get in the King’s face. “Oh yes I will, or do you know how to read this?”

“Your plaything doesn’t know either.” Crowley spits but Dean only grins at him.

“Of course he doesn’t but the names of every prophet who’s ever lived and ever will live is seared into every angel’s mind. Cas will know who the next prophet is and he will come to me, especially if I hold the tablet.” He straightens, still grinning when he sees Crowley thinking this over.

“You don’t need to bring it.”

Dean holds the tablet out of reach. “But I will.”

“Are you so bloody far up that angel’s ass that you can’t think?” Crowley snarls and stands up. Dean backs away.

“I’m not up his ass.” Dean grins, Crowley just heaves a sigh. “My dick is clean.”

“I saw you looking at him, don’t play me for a fool.” He squints angrily when Dean just laughs at the King’s unbecoming jealously. “You even admitted it.”

“I’m not fucking Cas, you dumbass.” The thought is tantalizing but not quite as tantalizing as feeling Cas fill him up and murmur sweet nonsense against Dean’s ear. “He’s fucking me and damn, you really missed out on something there, Crowley.”

That was a mistake, shouldn’t have brought up that time Cas worked with Crowley behind Dean’s back. It makes him angry to think about and he shoves the thought aside.

Crowley stares incredulously at him. “You’re letting an angel take you up the ass?”

“Damn right I am.” Dean feels a strange sort of pride surge through him and, weirder still, he feels the mark cower before it. He looks down at his arm but of course the mark looks like it always does. “And using this tablet I’m gonna trick him into doing it again.”

“That’s…” Crowley’s red in the face, looking pinched from anger. “That’s blasphemous.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “I know, and it’s awesome. You should try it. Hang on,” he pretends to consider the demon and Crowley narrows his eyes to slits. “You already have, right? I seem to recall something about you and…Naomi.” He laughs out loud when Crowley looks like he’s swallowed a lemon.

“That’s different.” Crowley snarks. “I was the one taking her. She was my bitch.”

Dean shakes his head, grinning. “It ain’t about taking or giving, Crowley. Cas is still my bitch, it’s called topping from the bottom.”

“I know what that is.” Crowley sneers. “And it’s not what you’re doing.”

“How would you know?” Dean is almost positive it’s what he’s doing. What else would it be? “You though I was the one sticking my dick in Cas.”

“This conversation is pointless.” Crowley holds out his hand. “Give your King His tablet.”

Dean immediately gets up in Crowley’s face, startling him and flicking out the demon eyes with one blink. He grins and watches Crowley watching him warily.

“Sorry, Your Highness.” He says, his voice low and dangerous, pointing a finger at himself, indicating his whole face. “Demon.”

He teleports out with that, holding the demon tablet tightly, excited about his plans.

 

 


 

 

 

“Dear Castiel who art not in Heaven but who walks among us as our equal.”

Castiel’s whole being jolts when he hears the beginning of Dean’s prayer and he wishes he could tune out but he can’t. He’s just glad he’s alone in his room in the bunker, Sam sound asleep in his.

“Well, not my equal. Not anymore, eh Cas?” Dean continues. Castiel closes his eyes even though it won’t help him not see. “Anyway, now that we’ve got that out of the way, you got your ears on? You better for this.” There’s a pause, Castiel’s grace sings both at hearing Dean’s voice and at receiving a prayer after so long. Castiel tries not to feel, at all, and fails. “I got the demon tablet, Cas. Gonna give it to you too, no payment needed.” Dean snorts out a laugh. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh. I’m actually serious.”

Castiel knows he’s not. Of course he would want something in return for betraying his own. Most likely he doesn’t even have the tablet. Castiel is just vain enough to believe this is Dean’s way of luring him in when he has been giving the demon the cold shoulder ever since last time Dean broke his heart.

Getting his own grace back has done wonders for Castiel’s battered emotions and he feels better, more logical, about everything. Yes he still loves Dean and yes he still aches to hold the man but he no longer cries over the loss or at the thought of Dean laughing behind his back together with Crowley. He had known and had acted like a fool anyway; he’s got no one to blame for his aches but himself.

So he’s been ignoring Dean, too busy with getting his grace, with Metatron, with the fallout of the scribe’s death, to even bother to care about the demon. Obviously this hasn’t been sitting well with Dean.

Oh, Dean likes to fool himself into thinking that being a demon means he’s got no emotions or at least that he can choose not to feel but Castiel knows better. All demons were once human, of course they experience human emotions. Perhaps not every emotion and not all of the time but in Castiel’s experience it seems that when a demon does experience an emotion he feels it even stronger than a human would. It’s the angels that are emotionless multidimensional wavelengths of celestial intent. Or they used to be.

He comes back into Dean’s prayer right at the end.

“…Buford, Georgia. I’ll be waiting for you, I know it’ll take you a long time to drive here but we got time, don’t we?”

The prayer cuts off abruptly after that and Castiel sags down on his bed, unprepared to how it felt hearing Dean in his head again. He gives himself a moment to calm down and then draws a shuddering breath (a clearly human trait), finding his strength once again.

If Dean doesn’t know that Castiel has gotten his wings back, then why choose such a faraway location? To give the demon time to prepare a trap for the angel, surely. Castiel doesn’t want to believe that but he has to. He will wait until morning and talk to Sam, even though he probably should go right now and surprise Dean.

 

*****

 

“It’s obviously a trap.” Sam exclaims, his hair standing on end from tossing in his sleep. He hasn’t gotten his morning coffee yet, Castiel hadn’t wanted to wait but instead practically ambushed the man on his way back from the restroom. “You can’t be thinking about going.”

“I’m already on my way.” Castiel says calmly, half-way up the stairs in the bunker’s map room.

“Cas.” Sam grabs his arm, slips when Castiel is unprepared for it and keeps walking a few steps, ends up holding Castiel’s sleeve. “Please don’t go. The last time you tried to capture Dean it nearly destroyed you. I don’t know what happened and I won’t ask but what if it happens again? I can’t lose you too.”

Castiel looks at Sam’s (as Dean would say) puppy eyes and feels a fond tug within his grace. Yes, he loves Sam very much and he would never want to hurt the man. But he loves Dean even more and he has to keep trying.

“I was dying back then. I have my own grace to protect me now. And my wings.” He reaches down and pries Sam’s hand off him. Sam looks like he didn’t realize what he had been doing and flushes from embarrassment. Castiel doesn’t mention it. “And what if he does have the tablet?”

“It can’t help him.” Sam says lowly. “I believe Metatron when he told us that.”

Castiel nods because so does he. “But think about what the demons can accomplish with the tablet, think of the havoc they can wreck if they ever get all of it translated. And,” Castiel looks away, uncomfortable. “If the angels finds out Dean has it they will hunt him for it. I would rather not find a way to cure Dean only to find my own brethren has executed him.”

Sam’s expression darkens. “How can you call them brethren after what they did to you? After all they’ve done and not done?”

Castiel smiles indulgently because the punishment he received for Metatron’s death wasn’t half as severe as he had anticipated. No the angels want to be on Castiel’s side for a while now, for whatever good that will do them, or him. Mainly he thinks they will want to exploit his connection to both Dean and Crowley, as well as his ability to fly. He’s still hated in Heaven but it comes with a grudging respect, as has been for a long time.

“It will be okay, Sam.” Castiel says kindly, feeling his grace run through him, searching for aches or cracks in his defense, finding none and being content with that. He has really missed his own grace’s soothing burn. “You need to focus on the spell for the new body.”

They have discussed giving Dean a new body once again now that Castiel has gotten his grace back. They’re both still wary of the idea and Castiel would like for nothing else than to find an alternate cure. It doesn’t hurt to have the spell prepared, though.

“I will.” Sam sighs, obviously realizing this is a lost battle. “And Charlie has mentioned something about a Book of the Damned, seems like it contains very powerful magic.” He looks up at Castiel and looks younger than Castiel can remember seeing him. “Might be a counterspell to the mark in that.”

Castiel frowns at the name of the book, recognizing it and thinking he should remember something about it. “Just be careful.”

“Same.”

 

 


 

 

 

Cas arrives way too early. Even if Cas had hopped in his pimpmobile (Dean hopes that’s gotten fixed because as much fun as they had with the truck it’s not nearly as sexy) immediately at the end of Dean’s prayer he still wouldn’t have arrived in Buford earlier than perhaps six in the evening.

Instead, Dean has barely gotten his angel-notifying spells up before they ping with Cas’ arrival in town, at goddamn eight in the morning. Then again, he thinks, it might have been that Cas wasn’t in the bunker when Dean prayed for him. He could have been somewhere in Georgia, just plain coincidental.

Dean has chosen Buford because, as far as he knows, there’s a minimum (none right now, except for him) of demons or other supernatural beings in town. And Dean doesn’t want to be disturbed. He knows Crowley is looking for him and the tablet and Dean has no intention of giving it back before he’s had his fun, if even then.

Well, instead of dwelling on what might be wrong Dean decides to roll with it and teleports to the empty warehouse he’s scouted out for this. There he sends a new prayer to Cas, telling him the location, careful not to reveal how he knows Cas is in town or how surprised he is by the swiftness of it.

He’s just leaned back against a stack of empty pallets, getting comfortable, when an achingly familiar fwump announces Cas’ arrival. There’s not hiding Dean’s surprise now.

“You got your wings back.” Shit, that sounded way too awed and not at all as accusing as he would have liked. Cas looks unimpressed.

“I got my grace back. You must know this, since you’ve murdered Metatron and stolen the tablet hidden together with my grace.” Cas squints in that way of his and Dean feels arousal start to trickle in immediately. “Or maybe you don’t have it?”

“I have it.” Dean sniffs. “Just didn’t know you got your grace at the same time, or your wings.” He grins suddenly, filled with excitement. “But this is awesome, now you can chase me for real.”

“For real…” Cas repeats in a low voice and then shakes his head. “Hand me the tablet, Dean.”

“Aw, aren’t you even gonna try? C’mon, I might have it on me.” He spreads his arms, grinning. “Maybe you should strip-search me.”

Cas looks, if possible, even more unimpressed. Dean lets his arms drop.

“I’m not here to play your games, Dean. I have played them for weeks and gotten nothing for it.”

“Nothing?” Dean snorts. “I guess, if you don’t count the best fucking orgasms you’ve ever—”

Nothing,” Cas repeats, his voice hard and reminiscent of how it used to sound when they first met. “But heartache and betrayal.”

Dean frowns, not liking this game. He doesn’t know the rules for this game. “The fuck you talking about?”

But Cas shakes his head, almost as if Dean is only a petulant child who will never understand. It makes Dean angry enough to snarl and he’s on the angel in a heartbeat, punching him hard. Cas’ head whips to the side but it’s clear that his grace has protected him. Well good, that’ll make this much more interesting.

The fight it not even, Cas might be much stronger than before (and, of course, not dying anymore) but Dean is still a Knight of Hell and Cas would have needed all, if not more, of his original power to match him. However, Dean is so filled with confusion (and hurt, but he doesn’t really understand that) that he’s not fighting smart.

Cas doesn’t win but he manages to push Dean back enough that they end up in basically their starting positions, only battered and bruised. Dean wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and expects it to come off bloody but it doesn’t.

Cas shakes his head sadly and suddenly all his wounds have healed. Fucking angel mojo. Dean can’t even make a lasting impression now, can he?

“This is wearying.” Cas says with a sigh. Dean is mortified at how not hard he is, even from fighting and getting skin-on-skin contact with Cas. “Will you give me the tablet or not?”

“You honestly expected me to just hand it to you?”

Cas draws himself up. He looks stunning in the low light of the warehouse. “Actually no, even though you promised to do so. Then again, you’re a demon and your words mean less than the ash of a burnt down house.”

“What the fuck, Cas?” Dean is severely confused now. “Did getting your grace back make you a douchebag or what? What crawled up your ass?”

“You did!” Cas screams, face red and beautiful, all control suddenly lost. “You, Dean Winchester, crawled up my ass and ripped out my heart.” He’s rushes up to Dean and grabs him by his shirt, Dean too stunned to do much of anything. Instead of screaming in his face, like Dean expects, Cas leans his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “I saw you kissing Crowley.” He mumbles and Dean takes a moment to filter through his memories to try and understand when and why it would cause the usually stoic angel to lose his cool.

“In Bladen.” He eventually says, voice carefully levelled because he feels anything but levelled. “When we stopped for gas.”

“You left with him.”

Dean snorts and looks away. “He was breaking me out, I had to give him something.”

Cas jerks away, looking angry but also contrite. “I promised myself I wouldn’t let that affect me anymore. I have cried enough over you and I came out stronger for it.” He meets Dean’s eyes with eyes too filled with defeat for Dean’s liking. “Or so I thought.”

Dean snarls silently and reaches back to pluck the tablet from between the pallets behind him. He thrusts it at Cas unceremoniously. Cas just stares at it.

“Take it.” Dean mutters. “This stopped being fun a long time ago.”

Cas’ lip curls up in a snarl of his own and he moves so fast Dean is barely able to keep up. Snatching the tablet from Dean’s outstretched hand he turns to hurl it straight at the wall and it shatters with a deafening blow, white light pouring out and engulfing them for a moment. Dean screams in surprise and covers his ears as he presses against the pallets. Cas just stands there, takes the blast straight in the face and seems to not even feel it.

“You fucking idiot!” Dean screams when it’s over, probably too loud but his ears are ringing. “The fuck was that good for?!”

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of pain, and goes for Dean’s throat. Dean tries to dodge but is not fast enough in his surprise and Cas gets him in a choke hold. Dean feels his Adam’s apple bob under Cas’ palm and he can’t help how his dick fills out when Cas presses his whole body against Dean’s.

“This little game of yours.” Cas hisses against Dean’s open mouth. “It will end now, demon.”

Images of Cas smiting him flashes before Dean’s eyes and he surprises the both of them by moaning in pleasure instead of fear. Cas looks so pissed off and yet Dean is growing harder by the second. Is this the demon side of him reveling in the challenge or is this simply Dean basking in Cas’ attention? It’s hard to tell but either way Cas notices Dean’s hard-on and Dean actually feels a tiny smudge of shame when Cas turns his judging eyes on him.

“Filth.” Cas growls and Dean wants to be offended and hurt but is only aroused.

Cas releases Dean’s throat but doesn’t step back. Instead he swiftly captures Dean’s wrists and has new demon handcuffs out of his pocket before Dean has gathered his breath. Dean jerks to get away but Cas simply plants his thigh between Dean’s legs, rubbing for a moment long enough to make Dean lose his mind, and then he has the demon’s hands cuffed.

Dean wants to quip about bondage like he had before but there is something different about this moment. Chase and play is gone, this is gritty and real and Cas might just try and kill Dean the Demon to save Dean the Human. The mark won’t let that happen but just thinking about Cas entertaining that thought is enough to make Dean go pliant against the angel.

Cas is right, this game should end.

“I didn’t betray you.” He rasps. Cas’ eyes flash to his in an instant. “I only slept with Crowley before you.”

“Save your lies, demon.”

“Don’t…” Dean looks to the side. “Don’t call me that. I’m telling the truth, Cas.”

Cas leans in, gets up in Dean’s face and Dean wants to kiss him. Wants Cas to kiss him.

“It doesn’t matter, Dean. Don’t you see? None of it matters anymore. I’m an angel, I shouldn’t have given in to the temptation. And you’re a demon, you shouldn’t even matter.”

“But I do, don’t I?” Cas is about to rebuff Dean’s words when Dean leans in and captures the angel’s soft lips. The kiss is slow, sensual, and of course Cas allows it. “I do matter.”

The fight immediately drains out of Cas. “Dean.” Maybe it was never there. Maybe it was simply hopelessness and helplessness. “Dean, I…”

Dean shushes him and lifts his cuffed hands over Cas’ head so he can wrap his arms around the angel’s neck. Once again robbed of his demonic powers, Dean relies completely on Cas’ angelic strength as he shifts up to wrap his legs around Cas’ hips.

Cas makes a sound somewhere between surprised and pleased and puts his hands on Dean’s ass, pressing him against the pallets.

“I ain’t good with the feels, Cas.” Dean murmurs against Cas’ lips. “Maybe even less now than when I was human. But I know this,” he rolls his hips as best he can, lets the angel really feel his dick now.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Cas mumbles, though Dean can feel his answering hard-on.

Dean thinks he understands what Cas means, though. He doesn’t want to understand, doesn’t want to want what Cas means. But he does. Wants Cas, angel or demon, human or monster. Dean wants Cas and maybe he’s always known.

“Didn’t mean anything with Crowley.” Dean continues in the same murmur. “It’s different.”

He doesn’t specify what’s different or why but he doesn’t have to. Cas knows.

The next kiss is far from slow. They kiss deeply, tongues battling and exploring. Cas gets almost too eager and their teeth clash but Dean likes it. He bites at Cas’ lower lip and both hears and feels the angel groan deeply.

They’re bucking against each other, clothes chafing in all the right ways, and Dean is much harder than he has ever been. The cuffs clink behind Cas’ head but neither of them care. They don’t restrain Dean from grabbing Cas’ soft hair and he’s satisfied with that.

Cas’ hands dig into the meat of Dean’s ass and the feeling makes Dean’s dick twitch. He can feel precome bubbling up and he wants to be naked to see it smear on Cas’ fine stomach. Their chests are pressed tightly together, Dean’s nipples rubbed by the fabric of his shirt and it makes him moan.

“Cas.” He pulls out of the kisses with regret. “Please, I need you inside.”

Cas presses his lips together and looks like he wants to argue but instead Dean feels the familiar feeling of Cas’ real grace washing over him and fucking hell, being a demon he would have thought it would be painful but it feels almost orgasmic.

He bends his head back, moaning deeply. “Again.” He gasps when it’s over.

“Dean?”

“Your grace, Cas. I need it.”

It’s when Cas leans in to lick against Dean’s racing pulse that Dean notices that they’re naked. Goddamn, feeling Cas’ grace had felt so good he hadn’t even noticed that all his clothes got removed. And with just a little shift, fucking yes, that’s Cas’ hard cock pressed right up Dean’s crack.

“Cas.” He whines and rubs himself as best he can against the angel but the position is restricting and it only makes Dean more aroused. “Cas, fucking shit, you…I need…”

Cas bites down where Dean’s shoulder meets his neck and Dean screams in pleasure when a new wave of Cas’ grace washes over him. This one doesn’t do anything, except turn Dean into mush and push him closer towards his release.

Suddenly Cas’ slim fingers are prodding Dean’s hole and Dean wants to hump down against them but finds that he can’t even do that. Fucking fuck, he’s loving this. Restrained and completely at the angel’s mercy. At his angel’s mercy.

“I’m going to enter you.” Cas murmurs against the ruddy skin on Dean’s shoulder.

“Got—gotta work on your pillow talk.”

Cas gives Dean a wry look. “I’m going to use my grace to prepare you.” He says in a suddenly way too husky voice for Dean to handle right now. “When you’re open and soft, pleading for me, I will enter you. Hard.” He nips at Dean’s earlobe. “I’m going to fuck you right here, Dean, because I want to. And you’re going to let me.” His breath is warm and Dean is still trembling. “Because you want me to.”

Dean actually whines and he scrunches up his eyes. They fly open a second later, though, when Cas’ grace forces it’s way inside Dean, softening his muscles just like Cas had promised. The stolen grace did this too but it felt nothing like this. This grace is part of Cas, this is him, this is part of the giant equivalent to the Empire State Building.

Dean wails helplessly when Cas’ grace finds his prostate and he curls around Cas, breathing in his scent and feeling him all around him.

“Cas.” He croaks. “Gonna come.”

It’s too much, it’s too little. It’s so different from all the other times. Maybe because Cas has his grace back or maybe because of things said, Dean doesn’t know and doesn’t have the brain capacity right now to make an educated guess. All he knows is that his orgasm is rushing through him and he’s both powerless and unwilling to stop it.

With a grunt and a shift in stance so quick it’s clearly inhuman, Cas has thrusted his hard cock right up Dean’s tight hole and Dean screams out his orgasm for the world to hear. His poor dick and taut balls are caught between them, rubbed mercilessly and deliciously. The come splashes up between them, coating them, and he’s coming so hard and so much and yet it’s still not enough.

He needs more, needs to be closer, needs all of Cas. He clings to the angel and gasps pathetically as Cas starts ramming up into him, just as hard as he promised. He holds Dean tightly and presses him against the pallets. The wood digs in and should leave stinging cuts but it doesn’t, doesn’t even hurt or leave splinters, because Cas’ grace continues to flood over Dean, protecting him.

The sensation is almost too much for Dean and he ends up babbling some nonsense about always needing Cas and trying to make Cas promise not to leave him. Cas has his face buried against Dean’s neck and is only making small breathless sounds of pleasure but Dean can feel the angel’s cock swelling when Dean goes on about never fucking anyone else ever again.

“Dean.” He groans and Dean takes the opportunity to pull on Cas’ hair again, making the angel pull out of his hiding spot. He looks at Dean with so much fucking adoration that Dean is surprised he doesn’t spontaneously combust.

“Want you to come.” Dean moans, eagerly kissing and licking Cas’ mouth. “Wanna feel it inside, wanna feel it run down my thighs.”

“Dean, I’m…”

Yes.”

Cas comes with a hoarse cry and it pulls a second, smaller orgasm out of Dean. His dick twitches valiantly but Dean hardly feels it, too focused on the wonderful feeling of his ass milking Cas’ spurting cock. And fucking hell does the angel come a lot.

Cas stumbles on his feet and Dean cradles his head. “You need to lie down, man.” He smirks, feeling boneless himself and so goddamn proud of his angel.

Cas looks at him with big eyes. “Forgive me.”

“What—?”

The next thing he feels completely throws him out of post-orgasmic bliss and he groans deeply at the feeling of falling. As always, flying with Cas makes Dean’s stomach drop but for the first time he can’t bring himself to dislike the feeling.

They land in a rather undignified pile on a bed in a room obviously belonging to the bunker. Cas ends up on his back with Dean straddling him, Cas’ still half-hard cock buried in Dean’s ass, both of them still naked and smeared with come.

Dean looks around and then smirks down at Cas. “You brought me to your room, you romantic you.”

Cas looks a little less contrite. “Are you not mad about this?”

Dean considers this for a moment. In the distance he hears wild thumping and Cas is glancing at the door. As a demon, does he even have a right to be mad about being tricked? Probably not. As a human turned demon and not a tortured soul turned demon, though?

“Did you have sex with me to distract me?”

Cas scowls at Dean, digs in his fingers on Dean’s thighs. “I planned to drag you here by force, the sex was…” he looks away, blushing suddenly as if he doesn’t have a naked and cuffed Dean straddling him. “A happenstance.”

“A happy-stance.” Dean corrects and wriggles his butt. Cas’ cock slides out along with some come and Dean sighs contently.

“I think you should prepare yourself.” Cas mumbles then and Dean raises an eyebrow in question.

“What are you—?”

The door flies open to reveal a ruffled Sam. “Cas! What’s going on?! All the alarms went off and—oh my God, Dean, you’re naked!”

He gapes at them, eyes wide in astonishment. Cas groans and covers his face with his hands. Dean flashes his black demon eyes at his little brother, though not even a quarter as threateningly as he had last time they met.

“Hiya Sammy. Wanna hear a joke? So, a hunter, an angel, and a demon walks into a bar…”