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Not That Clueless

Chapter Text

Castiel wasn't nearly as clueless and naive about sex and Dean and Sam seemed to think. It wasn't that he had no idea about these things; quite the opposite in fact. No, the problem was that human sexuality had changed so much since his previous trip to Earth. Not only was there porn - in video and in all manner of kinks - but sex was so much more accessible. Or at least it seemed that way over all. But Cas had been having a hard time finding it.


The last time he had been on earth he had taken a female vessel and things had been so different. So easy. The social cues aimed towards the angel hadn't been subtle and a person's intention was always known. Always clear. Humans, especially men, would come up and whisper in the delicate vessel’s ear about all the things they could do together if only they were alone. And, intrigued, Castiel would fly them to somewhere solitary. Skirts would be hitched or discarded completely and the pleasure was both unexpected and intense.


But in his male vessel it was all too subtle. Women would evade the issue entirely when approaching him and most of the time when they were trying to show interest they were being so subtle that Castiel didn't even know they were flirting. It was confusing. And then there were the men. Most of whom would stare at him and never say anything at all. Cas knew that his vessel was considered attractive, he thought so too; but apparently it just made men uncomfortable and stare at him without approaching. It was frustrating.


But he was not naive. He knew what it meant to want and be lustful. He had just pushed those urges of his vessel down and refused to deal with them while he didn't understand the social cues of the age. (With the exception of course of exploring himself in moments of weakness where he felt too overwhelmed by need.)


He didn't second guess himself as he answered a question about sex. It didn't come to mind that Dean and Sam would find it odd. When the three of them had been sitting in the library looking for a case and Dean had mentioned that someone had died and asked ‘what the hell is -’ as Cas read over his shoulder. It didn't occur to him that he shouldn't explain; That it would seem strange that he knew. So he just smiled slightly to himself and the words tumbled out without a second thought.


“Its a sex act wherein one party, generally the female or receiving party, is bound and suspended. They are then swung to allow for… stronger motion against their partner.”


He looked up from the screen and saw two stricken faces staring at him.


“How do you know that?” Dean finally asked while Sam continued to stare.


“Well… I've taken part in such an act so…”


“You what?”



“Oh god Dean, do you really want to know how ?”

“Jesus, no. Who with?”


The Winchesters questions kept coming and coming and while Cas didn't feel uncomfortable, he wasn't sure that they wouldn't. He cleared his throat awkwardly.


“It was...a long time ago. With a man named Gerald.”


“A man!?”

“You're gay?”


“I'm not gay. I'm not straight. I'm not anything - I have no gender as an angel. But he was straight, I was in a female vessel at the time. As I said it was a long time ago. I'm honestly surprised the name hasn't changed by now…”


“Wait…” It was Sam that was speaking, trying to cover the grin on his face with his hand, “You were receiving when you did this?”


“Yes. I was the one suspended.”


Sam kept smiling, clearly interested in this juicy new piece of gossip; but Dean had gone quiet and was staring overtly. As the information trickled into the hunter’s brain Cas saw a few small changes. His pupils grew slightly larger; he swallowed hard; he brought his knees together. Castiel pretended not to notice, keeping his attention on Sam as he spoke again.


“ was it?”  


Cas became thoughtful; letting his mind wander back through the centuries to dwell on the sensations he had felt in that particular encounter. He smiled. And while he couldn't see his own expression, the faces of his friends seemed surprised by it.


“It was enjoyable. Very enjoyable. And as far as the myriad of encounters I've had go, it was quite intense. It wasn't the most pleasurable experience I've had; but it was far from one of the least.”


The brothers stared. Castiel shrugged. To him it hadn't been a big deal. Just one more human experience to, well, experience. Human experiences were half the point of taking vessels in the first place.  


“...myriad of experiences.” Dean swallowed hard again, “how much sex have you had, Cas?”


“In this vessel? Very little. The social conventions around having a male body are...difficult to navigate for me. But when I had a female vessel? A considerable amount. And then if you want to ask about when I have no vessel...well…” Cas furrowed his brow and looked mildly confused “it really depends on whether you consider communion between angels to be sex at all, and which kinds of communion would be regarded as sex...but realistically, outside if this particular vessel; I've had a lot of sex.”




It had been days since the, frankly weird, conversation about Cas’ previous sex life and Dean was struggling to cope.


He had always assumed that Cas just wasn't interested in sex. Or at least that he wasn't interested as an angel. The only encounter Dean knew about Cas having since they'd known each other was while Cas was human. He hadn't seemed at all interested at any other time; but now he was hearing, from Cas directly, that this just wasn't true. That in another vessel he hadn't just had sex once or twice; no, he'd had ‘a considerable amount’ of it. And at least some of it was pretty kinky.


Dean just didn't know how to process the information he'd been given, let alone what to do with it. So when he woke in the middle of the night, tangled in blankets and covered in a sheen of sweat; it took all his will not to take himself in hand and let the dream he was having playback through his mind. It had been as Cas had described the experience of his past; only it wasn't a female body wrapped in ropes and swinging gently from the ceiling when he approached. It had been Cas as he currently was, as Dean knew him, in his male vessel with glowing blue eyes. His eyes had glowed in Dean's subconscious as the angel grew more and more aroused, writhing and straining against the ropes that bound him.


“Fucking hell…” Dean groaned at the memory and buried his face in his pillow. It had been difficult enough to keep his imagination under control when it came to Cas; but after finding out that the reason of his lust wasn't, in fact, asexual - it was becoming impossible to keep himself in line.  He was growing curious about all manner of things he would never allow himself to think about before.


Did Cas sigh with content after deep kisses?

What did it sound like when he moaned?

Did he whimper and shudder if he was teased without release?

Did he like it rough?


He must like it rough, Dean figured, if he'd gotten off on being fucked while bound and suspended.


And then Dean's mind was off again and he clung hard to the blankets while trying to calm himself. It wasn't working. The hunter whined helplessly as he tried to ignore the straining organ in his boxers. It was 3 in the morning; he should have been sleeping. He shouldn't have been thinking about his best friend keening against him and begging for more. He'd spent years pushing the feelings down. Pushing down the want and the need. Told himself that Cas wasn't interested, emotionally or physically. Told himself it wasn't fair on the angel, especially since he'd likely hear with his superpowered hearing.


But Castiel was interested in sins of the flesh. At least on some level. And in part of Dean's mind that made it almost okay. His inner voice spoke to him saying that Cas was a creature of sex and baseless urges after all. He probably did the same thing, though probably not about Dean.


And that was the point where it stopped being okay in the hunter’s mind. He couldn't jerk off to the glorious images his brain had conjured up, not when his angel wasn't interested in him at all.


And yet, if Castiel had been interested, there would have been no need for his hand or his imagination at all.


So his brain went back and forth over the ethical dilemma while his body took control by itself. His hand made its way into his boxer shorts and Dean almost moaned from the relief of his own touch. He barely caught the sound, biting his lip hard to prevent its escape. And that was that, it was suddenly too late to stop himself and he let his imagination go to work on filling his mind with Cas’ imaginary moans and pleading.


It didn't take him long to reach his climax; knuckles shoved in his mouth as he bit them hard to hold back his own noises as he spilt, hot and sticky, over his own hand and his shorts.


Calming down took considerably longer and as the sweat on his body cooled the realisation of what he'd just done made its way into his afterglow-addled consciousness.  He'd just had a wet dream about his best friend; then jerked off over it. He hadn't just come; he'd come HARD. Harder than during a lot of the sex he'd had.


“Shit,” Dean whispered to the emptiness of his room, “I am so fucked…”

Chapter Text

“What the hell happened to your hand?!” Sam reached for his brother's hand but the elder Winchester pulled it away and quickly hit it under the table. His fingers were covered in bruises and, embarrassingly, a number of suspiciously tooth-shaped cuts. He'd bitten down on his fingers much harder in the middle of the night than he'd realised and when he'd looked at the mangled mess of small injuries he had once again told himself that he was screwed and nearly gone for his bedside bottle of jack.


“It's nothing. It's fine.” Dean muttered awkwardly, not meeting his brother's gaze and avoiding looking at Castiel entirely.  


“It doesn't look fine!” Sam protested, one of his concerned puppy expressions firmly in place.


“I'm sure it's fine, Sam,” Cas spoke up and Dean made himself look to him. Their eyes met and Dean couldn't help but think that Castiel knew exactly what had happened, but if he was mad he didn't show it, “I'll take a look at it later and heal it if necessary.”


Rolling his eyes, Sam stood from the table and left the room, muttering something about making more coffee.  


“It's alright, Dean,” Cas spoke gently as the hunter looked away, shame welling within him, “I don't know what happened but you know you can always talk to me. I know there are things you don't want Sam to know, and it does look badly bruised.”


Dean rubbed his uninjured fingers against the bruises and bite marks under the table. So Cas didn't know. Or he was pretending not to for Dean's sake.


“...I don't want Sam to see.” Dean finally said in a small voice, once again refusing to look at his friend.


“Shall we go somewhere more private then?” it felt like a bad idea, but Dean agreed anyway and let Cas lead him from the library. They turned this way and that through the halls until they found themselves in a small, glassless conservatory. Plants were everywhere and many flowers were in bloom under the cool lights. Dean hadn't even known about the room's existence.


“I often come here to read or be alone when I crave solitude,” Cas said simply, “neither of you knew about it til now.” dean moved towards a large pot containing a single tall sunflower, surprisingly interested in how Cas managed to make the plants grow so well underground.


He was pulled away from his thoughts by Castiel appearing at his side and holding out his hand expectantly.


“Your hand, Dean, please.” swallowing hard and refusing to look at the angel Dean held out his hand for Cas to take and scruitinise.


“Are these bites?”




“these bites broke skin! You bled!”




“Dean, who did this?” Cas sounded affronted. Like he would go forth and smite whatever shithead had dared to be so rough. Heat rose in Dean’s cheeks and he flushed and looked away shamefully.


“Dean…” Cas’ voice came softly now, his thumbs caressing Dean's battered hand gently, “Dean... was what happened to cause this...consensual?”


“What? Shit, Cas!” Dean tried to pull his hand away but Castiel held firm, the angel watching him calmly as Dean's eyes began to sting. “it was me, okay? I did it to myself.”


“You did this to yourself? Dean, your hand is practically black from bruising!”


“I...I didn't notice…”


“Didn't notice? How do you not notice when you bite into your fingers so hard your mouth fills with blood? These aren't small cuts!” Dean tried to pull away again, his eyes beginning to feel wet. He was afraid, clearly. This wasn't going how he'd wanted. He'd wanted Cas to heal his hand, no questions asked like usual, and go back to pretending he hadn't nearly bitten off his own hand to muffle the moans he'd made while imagining his best friend impaled on his cock.


“Dean, tell me what happened. I'm not letting you go until you do.”


“I'm sorry Cas...I didn't...I couldn't help it.”


“Couldn't help what, Dean?” the angel continued to rub his bruises and Dean struggled to find the words.


“I...I was.” Dean sighed and looked away, “I was masturbating and had to hide the sound. I couldn't have you hear…”


Castiel blinked and looked back at the hand he held, raising an eyebrow, “You bit it to hide the sounds of your pleasure enough to do this? Sam never hears you; I've heard you both. It can't be helped. You didn't need to do...this.”


“Did you hear last night? When I did it?” Dean had to know.


“No...I didn't hear. I might have if I were closer but I was at the other end of the bunker. I knew you had masturbated when I came back to my room to retrieve a book. But I knew for other reasons; I didn't hear.”


“...then it achieved what I wanted it to. And it's fine.”  Dean tried to pull his hand away once more but Cas kept staring at it, a look of confusion on his face.


“I don't understand,” the angel said simply “you've  never felt the need to injure yourself to stop me hearing before.”


“...this time was different.”


“Why?” Castiel still held firm when Dean halfheartedly tried to pull away one last time. Defeated and knowing that Cas wouldn't let him go unless he got an answer, and that the angel would know if he were lying, Dean decided to be honest. His voice came out quietly. Small and barely above a whisper.


“...I was thinking about you…”


Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise and his grip on Dean's hand faltered for a moment before the angel sighed and looked back down to the injured hand he held.


“...I’m sorry, Cas…” Dean's voice stayed small and he too stared at where Cas’ deft fingers ran along the bite marks and bruises, “I'm sorry…”


“You needn't be…” Cas brought Dean's hand up and gently pressed his chapped lips against the bruised knuckles. Dean felt the warmth of grace fill him as his minor hurts were healed in an instant; but his attention was all on Cas, and the way the angel had tenderly kissed his fingers. He suddenly found himself unable to breathe.


“Cas?” it came out somewhere between a gasp and a whisper but Castiel didn't pay much attention to it; letting go of Dean's hand and walking past him, gently patting the human’s shoulder on his way out of the room.


But Dean just stood there, unsure of what to do. Cas’ lips had been soft and warm on his hand and now that was being added to the jumble of confusion in Dean's head. Why had the angel even done it? Didn't he know that it would just further Dean's torment? Was it to try and ease his mind? Was it some kind of invitation?


If course it wasn't an invitation. Dean shook that idea out of his head before it could even get started. Instead he walked further into the conservatory until he found an armchair and decided to sink into it. Why had Cas even brought him there? A room that he didn't know existed, that seemed to be an oasis for the angel? Why had he chosen to share it?


Dean curled up in the armchair and allowed himself to get comfortable. There was a small table within arm's reach and he noticed a few books sitting on it. A novel of some kind, a couple of books on lore that looked pretty boring, and a journal.


All manner of lines had been crossed by Dean Winchester in the space of 24 hours, so for good measure he decided to cross one more and reached for the journal. He opened it and flicked the pages in fairly quick succession. The writing was all in Enochian, which meant that Dean couldn't really read it. He could make out a few words here and there, but nowhere near enough to decipher what Cas had written.


But there were drawings and scribbles too. Many pages with the strange enochian symbols that made up Cas’ writing curving around hastily scrawled scribbles or detailed sketches. There were dozens of plant drawings, and dozens more of insects and bees. Some of sigils or monsters. More than one of Cas’ angel blade and hundreds of black feathers. And every now and then there was a sketch of Dean, either with Sam or alone. He smiled, turning page after page until he came across a sketch that gave him pause.


The image was of Dean, laying as if asleep; his jaw slack, his face peaceful. He was shirtless and lain on grass. The sketch was done with grey pencil and was a beautiful shaded work in monochrome. Except for the angry red handprint depicted on his bicep.


Dean lifted a hand to where the handprint had once been so harsh on his arm. It had long since faded, the skin tone of his bicep no longer seeming any different to the rest of him. But he could still feel it. Through his clothes his fingers traced the outline of the palm and digits, easily finding the raised, scarred skin. It was a strange thing. Sometimes It would itch at strange times, it sometimes became almost unbearable when he and Cas had been apart for weeks on end. And sometimes it still felt like it burned  


“I was doomed the moment you dragged me from the pit…” dean sighed as he turned the page, knowing that deep down he wouldn't change his tragic tale for a second.




Dean thought Castiel was being distant. But it wasn't the case at all; not really. He'd been quiet, he'd been watching. He just hadn't been talkative or as physically close to Dean since their talk in the conservatory.


He watched. He waited. He bided his time.


Dean had been staring at him more often when he thought he couldn't see. And when he stared the look on his face was almost pained, as though he wasn't sure if the world was ending again. Cas always made sure to keep his own expression calm and firmly neutral. He didn't want Dean to worry that something was wrong, but he also didn't yet know how to approach the situation. Things had always been more...complicated when it came to the righteous man.


Days passed and Castiel grew frustrated. Dean was becoming withdrawn and as time went on the angel noticed him eating less and his fingers would twitch every time the hunter sat at a table without a drink as if wanting to seek some kind of mind-numbing, amber liquid.


The angel didn't understand why Dean was acting the way he was and why he felt so ashamed. It was becoming painful for them both. Not to mention Sam. Poor Sam who had started to obviously avoid the tension that was palpable between his brother and his friend. Poor Sam who had seen Castiel watching Dean and wondering what would happen, afraid to make a move without Dean's lead. Poor Sam who had been watching his brother suffer and wither into a quiet creature teetering on the lip of a whiskey bottle. Cas had heard of the human term ‘gay panic’ more than once and couldn't help but question whether Dean was having one - a crisis of self image - because of the situation he had created. The human had always tried so hard to protect his womanizing image…


“Dean…” Cas spoke quietly into the room where they both sat. Sam was off in town on a supply run and Dean had been staring at the same page in the book in front of him for twelve minutes and eighteen seconds without reading but trying not to look across the table at the angel who sat there. Trying and failing. “...would it help you feel more comfortable if I showed you how I looked back then?”


They both knew what he meant and he saw Dean's whole body stiffen.


“...what?” Dean's voice had none of his usual confidence behind it but when he looked up Castiel held his gaze gently.


“You're uncomfortable with...recent developments. I'm wondering if it would make you more comfortable to know what my female vessel looked like. I can show you some of my memories…”


The colour drained from Dean's face and he coughed awkwardly, forcing his gaze away from Castiel as a flush rose in his cheeks.


“Not...not those memories, of course.” Cas hastened to add before almost murmuring, “...unless you wanted to see them…”


Dean looked to his friend, the expression in his green eyes something Cas had never seen before. A strange mix of fear and desire, of panic and curiosity.


“I don't know if it would help, exactly…” Dean licked his lips, another of his telltale signs that he wasn't in complete control of his body at that point. It seemed to happen a lot when the angel was present. “and...and I don't know if I would survive seeing those memories…”


“Of course you would,” Confusion flooded Castiel’s mind and he knew it would be coming through in his eyes and the lines on his face, “how would accessing my memories cause you to perish? Besides, it's hardly the first time memories have been shared between us, you know what to expect.”


“That...isn't what I meant Cas…” Dean spoke quietly and Castiel sighed before standing and walking around the table. The hunter watched him cautiously, a stiffness still noticeable in the set of his shoulders, until Cas stood beside him and reached out to gently touch his face.  


A sigh escaped Dean's lips without consent as his eyes closed at the gentle touch. It was so little and yet too much. He'd been keeping himself in line (barely) since that fateful night and had been on a knife edge since. Cas had filled his consciousness in every waking moment and had been present in every dream he'd had; as if nearly a decade of suppressing his lust for the other being had decided to break through and bombard him all at once. He was so out of control and out of his depth that even that small, tiny, barely present touch felt like cool fire against his skin.


“Cas...i’m not sure this is a good idea…” dean sounded breathless and Castiel’s brow furrowed. His hunter was wrung so tightly, it wasn't a good idea to leave him that way. There were other ways, but he couldn't think of any that Dean would agree to in his current state.


“Trust me Dean, and it will all be fine.” he ran his fingers up Dean's cheek to rest on his forehead before leaning close enough to whisper, “Do you trust me, Dean?”


The gravelly whisper made Dean shudder and he responded with a simple “I trust you, Cas” before the angel flooded his mind with a montage of memories.


He floated above Castiel’s memories in a way he didn't understand. Had Cas gone back in time at some stage and watched from a distance? A voyeur of his own exploits? He didn't know and would never ask. But he could see a woman, walking through a field of wildflowers, bees buzzing around haphazardly as she smiled at them and walked; her long, delicate fingers running through the various flower species to feel their soft petals.


She was beautiful. Dark hair whipped up in a messy bun that must have earlier in the day been covered by the green hat she carried. And her eyes. Her eyes were strikingly blue. And then they glowed as she smiled at nothing.


Dean was sure he must have gasped. She was Castiel and yet she wasn't. She was so beautiful but his Cas was striking in a way beyond the handsomeness of his vessel; and the Castiel that stood before him now had a hardness in her eyes that his Cas just didn't.


The scene changed and he saw her, heard her, talking to another angel. She spoke as Cas spoke, expressed as Cas expressed but there was something...lacking. Emotion, he realised. The Castiel before him was the sleek angelic soldier that his Cas had been when he first arrived. He'd questioned since then. He'd fallen since then.


The scene changed again, and again, and again. In quick succession from that point. Showing the men (and one or two women) that flirted with Castiel with, in Dean's view, a complete lack of tact. But he understood then what Cas had meant about the changes in how people approached him then vs how they approached him in his current vessel. ‘and how I avoid approaching him at all’ the thought came bitterly to Dean's mind as the memory Castiel in front of him had a man’s hand run up her skirt and, after a few moments, found somewhere nice that he couldn't see. Her head fell back, eyes closed - though he could see a faint glow of grace where her eyelids met - and she moaned. It filled the quiet of the remembered room and just as she grabbed her partner's arm, pulling to urge his unseen hand, the scene changed again and a second moan reverberated around Dean's skull as he watched dozens of memories fly by in quick moments. Snapshots of experiences and sounds. A gasp here, a whimper there.


Gradually the dress disappeared and Dean knew that Cas was gradually building up to what he knew was at the heart of his issue. He saw men taking her, repeatedly, sometimes gently but usually not. Saw the female Cas riding more than a handful of her partners, head thrown back in bliss as she groaned and ground their hips together. And then he was shown the more risque encounters with women. Angry scratches marked the female Cas’ back from her female partners clinging and desperately trying to urge her for more than the teasing she had infinite patience to give. The nameless women went down on her and Dean could vaguely feel himself squirm in his chair, and she went down on them.


And then the scene changed again. Her mouth still going to work on something quite different. ‘that's enough of that, my dear’ the man said as he reached down to pull her head away gently, ‘I'd rather like to show you something. If you're brave. Are you brave?’ ‘Oh, you have no idea how brave I can be’ Castiel’s voice had no air of doubt to it and the man guided her up from the floor and to the bed. From a nearby box he pulled out some ribbon and rope before proceeding to bind and gag her. She smirked, an eyebrow raised.


And once more the montage sped up and he saw the more questionable and fetish-based experiences of Castiel’s past. Light bondage, hard bondage, pain play, blood play. And then, finally, a large room came into focus; rigging visible on the ceiling and what seemed like an unnecessary amount of rope on the floor. The same man was there, he kissed Castiel’s neck, then bit it playfully before picking up the rope and slowly binding her naked body. Rope tied her arms in multiple places, it crossed her chest and waist. He bound her legs so that they were bent and spread as she laid on the floor; and then he used the rigging to hoist her up off the ground to his waist height.


She swung gently, like a macabre timepiece, as her untied hair ticked the floor below. Dean wanted to look away, it all having become too much some time ago, but he was stuck there - staring as the man (gerald he realised) let her swing there for several long minutes. He was still dressed and standing to one side when Castiel started whimpering and groaning in pleasure at the cut of the ropes into her skin. It was difficult for Dean to comprehend how she was untouched by anything but rope and still unable to keep pleasured moans at bay.


And then he, Gerald, approached her and gently blew a whisper of air between her legs. She cried out, straining against the ropes and started whimpering as her skin trembled visibly. That was when Gerald finally unbuttoned his pants, not undressing more than that, and pulled the organ out from within. He lined up Castiel, the pendulum, took hold of the ropes binding her legs and slammed her against him, driving deep. She cried out a desperate moan, open eyes glowing fiercely. And then everything went black for several long moments, the moan dying slowly in Dean's mind before the bunker library came back into focus.


Cas - his Cas - pulled back quickly, his expression showing an uncertainty that Dean had never seen before. The angel turned away, an attempt to give Dean a moment of privacy to process what he'd just been through.  The hunter looked down at himself and realised he was hot, sweaty, and had a suspiciously wet feel inside his pants. He let out a shuddering breath which almost came out as a keening groan, and made to stand.


“I...I uh…”


“Go get changed Dean,” Cas said without remorse or concern, “we can discuss what you've seen later. If you want. Or, if you'd rather we didn't that's also fine.”


Not knowing what to say, Dean simply nodded his head and made his way to the door. He stopped before leaving, needing to get something out before his brain had time to talk itself out of saying it.




“Mmm?” Castiel turned to him and Dean licked his lips again before speaking, “You...your vessel. Back then. Uh…” he shook his head trying to get the cobwebs out before starting again, “you were beautiful, Cas; in that vessel. She was beautiful.”


“Thank you, Dean.” the smile on the angel’s face seemed slightly sad, but Dean ignored it and continued.


“She was beautiful. But...but she wasn't the same. She wasn't my Cas. Not really.”


“I don't understand what you mean. It was still me, Dean.”


“You have love to give, Cas. You're vibrant and full of emotion. She...well; you've changed since then. You are more now than you were then.”


Castiel was still struggling to understand as Dean left to take a shower and get changed. But he decided to shake it off, he was already struggling to keep his vessel’s biological response to show he'd given (not to mention the sounds Dean had made without knowing and the effect they'd had) under control; fretting over what Dean said and what he meant would just make that goal even more difficult.

Chapter Text

It hadn't helped. It hadn't made Dean more comfortable. Not really. He'd gotten off without even really being aware of his body (and made enough of a mess in his pants that he actually wondered if he'd peaked twice), and that had definitely taken the edge off and allowed him to think more clearly. But as he was getting dressed after scrubbing himself clean in the shower he was hit with a realisation that shocked him enough to drop the shoe he had just picked up off the floor.


What he had seen in Cas’ memories was sex. A lot of sex. A lot of good sex. But that's all it had been. Sex. Purely physical and instinctual. Castiel’s partners had clearly been into it but for the most part hadn't seemed that attached. Gerald, who Dean felt a mild stab of jealousy about, had been different. He seemed to honestly care about the angel he repeatedly had his way with - but Cas had been detached. Cas had looked at them all with a cool lack of interest; like they were a means to an end.


Cas didn't look at him like that. There was no detachment. Cas looked at him like he was the brightest star in creation.


Dean didn't want a detached Cas with whom to have carnal, baseless sex. He wanted his quirky, endearing Cas who looked at him like he was a lost puppy. He wanted intimacy. He wanted love.


The realisation stung and he didn't know what to do with it. He felt a sharp pain in his chest knowing that he would have to tell Cas the reality of the situation. The memories the angel had shown him could feed his fantasies for months, maybe even years, but he couldn't bear to think of them being filled with the Castiel from a previous life. He wanted to see his Cas lost in the moment with his eyes filled with love as he swallowed down -


Dean put the breaks on that thought quickly; he'd only just regained his upstairs brain and needed to talk to Cas before it could run him into the ground again.


He finished getting dressed and left his room in search of his best friend; but had exactly no success in finding him. He found Sam in the kitchen unpacking the spoils of his supply run though, and made his way over to help.


“hey, i thought maybe you and Cas had taken off somewhere; I couldn't find you guys.”


“Oh…” so Sam couldn't find Cas either, “Nah I was just taking a shower. My brain was going in circles after a while and I needed to clean it out.”


“Yeah, I know how that is.” they continued unpacking in silence until Dean unpacked a bar of honey-filled chocolate which was Cas’ favourite.


“I'm going to try and find him,” Dean said as he pocketed the chocolate and Sam just nodded and waved him off. There was one place Dean hadn't tried yet, and he was sure he could find the way back there. Maybe. He'd only been the once, with Cas, but surely he couldn't get that lost.




It turned out he could get that lost. It took him nearly half an hour to find his way to the conservatory door, and when he found it he didn't feel it appropriate to just walk in. So he knocked and waited until a few moments later the door inched open.


Castiel stood in the gap and smiled upon seeing him. “Dean, I thought you might want some time. I didn't expect you to come looking for me.”


“I think we need to talk,” Dean said quickly, pulling out the chocolate and passing it through the door by means of an offering, “and I need to do it before my head gets all weird again.”


Castiel raised an eyebrow and took the proffered sweet. It struck Dean how similar he looked to his former vessel then, making that expression. So alike yet nothing the same. Cas opened the door wide to allow Dean entry before closing it behind him. They walked further into the long room together, the silence full but not uncomfortable.


Dean continued to stand as Cas returned to the armchair. The hunter could see the open notebook and some sketches being made on the pages, but before he could make out what the imagery was the book was flicked closed.


“Would you like to express your thoughts first?” Cas watched as Dean started to pace slowly, trying to form what he wanted to say. It was difficult. He'd never been good with his words, and was even less good with them when they involved feelings and were important.  In the end he just let them spill out and hoped it wouldn't ruin things.


“You've had a lot of sex.” Dean said finally, and Cas nodded before Dean continued, “I didn't know how to handle that. I always thought you were asexual and had no interest whatsoever. But you have interest, you've asked for things that make you feel good, you've begged for was very clear in your memories that you...that you…”


“That I'm a sexual being? At least to a point?”


“Yes.” Dean sighed and then added “And that sometimes you've been horny as hell.”

Cas let his head tilt in agreeance but didn't speak, wanting to let Dean finish what he was saying.


“But...but you looked really disinterested in the people you were having sex with. I wouldn't ever want that.” Cas looked mildly confused as he continued, “it was just sex. I could see that you didn't care for your partners emotionally, it was purely physical.  I won't lie, i would have been happy and willing to bang her for a one night stand; but that's not what i want from you.”


“and what do you want from me, dean?” Castiel asked, a nervousness having invaded his body and causing tension on his muscles. “do you want anything from me?”


“i want intimacy.” Dean spoke quickly before he could stop himself, “i want you to have your way with me in a way that makes me know i matter to you.”


“you want an emotional attachment?” Cas asked, “You want me to show my feelings for you physically?” when the hunter heard it said like that he thought it sounded stupid until  


“Oh thank goodness,” Castiel was out of his chair in an instant and bridging the gap between them. He grabbed Dean's shirt roughly and pulled him down far enough to kiss him desperately. It took the hunter by surprise but within moments he was kissing back, his hands having moved to run his fingers in Castiel’s hair as they kissed.


It was palpable. The kiss extended for what seemed like eons, but it didn't slow down. Dean hardly came up for panting breaths and each time he did Cas tried to instantly pull him back for more. The air grew hot and thick between them when Dean finally moved his lips away from Cas’, trailing kisses along his jaw and up to his ear; he let one of his hands fall and slip inside Castiel’s trenchcoat just above his waist to start trying to untuck his shirts and find the cool skin underneath.


He gently nibbled and sucked on Cas’ earlobe as his fingers found their prize and ran along the angel’s hip bone. Finally, finally, Dean was rewarded with the sound of Castiel - his Castiel - moaning in the thick, deep, gravelly voice that had always stirred things deep in Dean's soul and body. He found himself involuntarily grinding against the angel as the sound filled him.


“Cas…” Dean whimpered the other man’s name as Castiel pulled back slowly, making some space between them and causing Dean's hand to fall. The angel looked hungry - ravenous - in a way Dean hadn't seen before. He looked Dean over, his eyes glowing slightly, as if he wanted to devour him.

Letting out a shuddering breath that he didn't need, Cas ditched his trenchcoat and eyed Dean the only way he knew how: like a strategist planning an attack.


“is here adequate, or would you rather I relocate us before we continue?” Dean swallowed hard. Cas didn't ask if he wanted to continue, he already knew the answer; but the hunter was unable to find anymore words, his brain too far gone from the look in Castiel’s eyes and the way he kissed and sounded. He shakes his head in response and Cas simply raises an eyebrow as he removes his tie and shirts. “here is fine?” a nod from Dean is all the affirmation needed for a smirk to make its way onto Castiel’s face.


It made Dean shiver and lick his lips as Castiel moved towards him, bright eyes scanning him up and down. He was nervous, unsure of himself and what was going to happen. But Cas wasn't. Deft fingers went straight to Dean's belt as the topless angel leaned in, changing direction at the last moment to lick up Dean's neck and nip at his jawline.


A sigh escaped Dean's lips as Cas made quick work of his belt and then pushed down his worn jeans, following them to the floor to kneel before the hunter.


He still couldn't form words and even breathing steadily was becoming difficult as Cas pulled down his boxers while maintaining eye contact. It might have been mildly unsettling if the blue eyes on him hadn't been so sure. But Cas was so certain in his movements as his eyes moved to Dean's hardened manhood in front of him; the angel sighed with contentment and he nuzzled against the hardened organ and Dean felt himself falling out of control.


The skin of Castiel’s cheek was smooth and cook against him, but then the angel finally let his eyes close and licked down his length and a strangled moan forced its way from Dean's throat. The human’s hips thrust against his will and Castiel grabbed him tightly to hold him steady as a gruff chuckle escaped him.


“Easy, Dean,” Cas cooed before licking down his length again, causing a desperate moan to come from his partner, “We haven't even gotten started. “


“I know but…”


“Shhh… just enjoy it and let it last.” dean would have protested again, feeling too desperate to hold out; but the few words he could muster turned into a deep groan as Cas took his whole length into the warm cavern of his mouth. Dean's knees went weak and he nearly fell; stopped only by Cas wrapping his arms around his legs and holding him up with the strength only an angel could muster.


Whimpering, Dean let himself fall into the angel’s hold, letting his head fall back as his moaned came unfetted. He moved his hands to Castiel's hair and pulled tightly, trying to warn him that he was close. He wasn't sure if he wanted to hold back, or if he wanted Cas to stop - it was so good; how Dean had ever thought blow jobs were good before this was beyond him, or if he wanted Cas to go harder.


The decision ended up not being his. Cas moaned around him in response to the sharp pull, the vibration pulling a whimper from Dean as his toes curled. And then the angel started to pull him in, lifting him just off the ground and sucking the hunter down as if it was all he needed in life; he moved Dean back and forward against himself, controlling the tempo with which his mouth was fucked.


It was too much and Dean curled around him, gripping at his hair tightly as a scream escaped while he came hard down Castiel’s throat and filling his mouth.


Castiel drank greedily, not pulling Dean out of his own mouth and letting him settle on the floor until every drop of sticky liquid had been drained from him. The hunter’s legs buckled beneath him and he grabbed Cas’ shoulders to steady himself but the angel only smiled up at him before lowering him gently to sit on the floor.  


“Holy shit, Cas…” Dean's voice was rough from crying out but he felt incredible. He pulled Castiel towards him, closing the gap between them, before kissing him deeply and gently. He didn't even mind the taste of himself coating Cas’ mouth.


“I like this…” Castiel said, his breath tickling Dean's lips as he spoke without pulling too far away, “With you everything is much better.”  Dean leaned forward again only to feel dismayed when Cas pulled back and caught his gaze, “I would have my way with you, Dean. If you'll allow it.”


“Isn't that what you've been doing?” Dean's head was swimming, still struggling to catch any threads of rationality that tried to bring him back to earth.


“I have...more plans.”


“As long as those plans don't involve us going back to how things used to be, I am all for them.” Dean leaned forward once more and this time Castiel allowed the kiss, letting his body melt against Dean's and pulling him close. He slid his hands up under the tshirt Dean still wore and guided the fabric upwards until it was discarded.


Dean couldn't help but sigh contentedly as Cas’ hands gently roamed his torso, but then he felt something else.  A warmth seeped into him slowly that he recognised as the touch of grace. But whereas Cas usually ley his grace touch and be gone within a moment, this time it lingered. He could feel it seeping into his muscles and through his veins, like a strange and warm caress inside. It became hot and gradually Dean found himself panting and squirming where he sat; his spent body finding itself burning withneed once more.


Barely able to control his body Dean reached for Cas with a gasping whine. “it's alright Dean,” he heard Cas’ voice beside his ear, not seeing him through unopened eyes. Dean's voice hitched as Cas guided him back to lay on the floor, each touch was too much for his body which already felt like it would explode at a moments notice.


But then Castiel’s hand left him and after a moment he was able to open his eyes. The sight of Cas standing over him and finally working at undoing his own belt, gaze boring into Dean with the same hunger from earlier, was overwhelming and Dean found himself unable to breathe as Cas let his lacks fall and his thick, hard cock bounced once or twice from finally being freed.


Dean licked his lips, not even caring (for once) that it might make Cas think he wanted to eat him whole. In fact, devouring Cas seemed like an amazing idea. But it didn't seem to fit in with Cas’ plans.


The angel stepped forward, a foot on either side of Dean's hips, and looked down at him.  This time it was Cas who licked his lips and Dean groaned from the sight alone. He prayed desperately to no one and everyone that the image he was seeing be burned into his mind and the back of his eyelids forever. If the sight of Castiel bare and dripping above him was the last thing he would never see then Dean would die happy and thankful.  


Slowly Castiel knelt, straddling Deans hips, the hunter’s hardened organ slipping slightly between smooth, pristine buttocks.  Realisation hit Dean like a sledgehammer and his hands made their way of their own accord to Castiel’s thighs as he spoke.


“C-Cas? Are you sure you want-” He was cut off my Cas lifting himself, shifting slightly, and impaling hinself on Dean's cock in one swift movement. They both cried out at the sensation. Cas was so tight. So goddamn tight. Dean nearly toppled over the edge from that first entry it was so intense. His fingers dug into Cas’ legs, desperate to ground himself as he grunted and groaned and tried to stop himself from fucking instinctually into the angel astride him. The way Castiel looked didn't help.


Castiel’s hands rested gently on dean’s abdomen; his unblemished skin coated in a thin layer of sweet-smelling sweat and his head thrown back in ecstacy. His mouth was open, his jaw gone slack after the long moan that had escaped him. His eyes were closed, and when he let his head loll forward Dean could see the thin glow of grace that was burning them.


The hunter was about to speak - to ask if Cas was alright. Shoving himself down onto Dean like that must have hurt. Raw and with to he could look so lost in ecstacy Dean had no idea. But then Cas started moving and the sounds as he lifted himself and ground them together filled Dean up til he thought he would drown from them.


The pace was slow but hard. Wordless grunts and moan filled the air and once Cas was happy with the punishing rhythm he'd set he met Dean's gaze and refused to break it. Dean was lost.  Lost in the sounds and sensations. Lost in those glowing eyes and the feel of strong fingers running down his chest.


“Cas, I'm not gonna last with you looking at me like that…” dean tried to pull his gaze away, to try and tether himself; but Castiel was having none of it and leaned forward to lick the human’s lips.


“You say that like you lasting is the goal.” he licked out again and when Dean gasped caught his mouth in a hot kiss as he changed tactic. The slow, hard, deliberate movements were suddenly replaced with speed and desperation. Dean tried to cry out but it came out as nothing more than a muffled moan into Cas’s mouth as the angel rode him like his life depended on it.


Castiel’s hands moved to  Dean's hair, grasping him tightly and using their kiss to hold him steady and Dean, unable to hold back any more, thrust up into him desperately.


They shared air. They shared a voice as their moans passed between them. Until finally, Cas pulled back, desperate for breath he shouldn't need. But Dean could tell his body had taken over. Covered in slick sweat and shaking from pleasure Cas tried to hang on for even a minute more.  He couldn't. Biting his lip hard enough to make it bleed, his eyes closed tightly and yet unable to hold back a small leak of grace, the angel reached his pinacle and came. It shook him to his core as he spilled across Dean's stomach and chest; and Dean kept fucking him through it, unable to stop despite Castiel’s body tightening around him like a vice. Cas’ orgasm ended with a blissful sigh as Dean's began with a hard moan.


And then silence fell. The two creatures totally spent but unwilling to separate their bodies. Unwilling to clean away the mingled sweat and seed dripping from their skin and Cas’ opening.  


After what seemed like both an eternity and a moment Castiel managed to steady his breathing and open his eyes before looking to the man beneath him. Dean stared back, unable to draw his eyes away from the glazed over eyes filled with smokey grace swirling within. He reached up, knowing that words would fail him, and Cas took his hand and brought it to his lips; kissing his palm with a gentle passion Dean didn't know possible.


“I know, Dean;” of course he did. Cas never really needed Dean to articulate what was going through his head, “I know. Me too.”