‘Damn it!’ The footfalls behind them were getting closer, and there was no way they were not going to get caught... unless that right there... it was! Dean veered right and in the same movement, grabbed the tan sleeve he saw in his peripheral vision. He pulled and they stumbled into a narrow alleyway. They were panting, Dean was sweating and the momentum of the sudden change of direction had plastered Cas against Dean’s front. They were just staring at each-other in the dim light.
‘Fuck! Fuckitty fuck fuck fuuuuck!’ Dean couldn’t believe their lousy luck. They had been so close! Cas had said he could sense his Grace. It was right there and then the frikken FBI had to show up and ruin it. Metratron, in true Douchy fashion, had made a game of finding Cas’ Grace. He’d split it up and put the nine pieces in different artefacts. And then he had told them, giggling fit to burst, it was a fucking Scavenger Hunt. “Each bit is hidden in an artefact, with a hint to get to the next piece. And since I updated your pop-culture knowledge, Castiel, it will all be pop-culture related.”
Cas had groaned, but Dean had been a little excited. That was just his kind of thing. Metatron had cackled. “First clue boys: ‘it’s here, because it is named after it.’ Good luck, oh, and there is a time crunch... 72 hours after receiving a clue, the piece of Grace will implode.”
The running footsteps caught up, faltered and stopped.
Dean held his breath, lungs protesting. First clue had been easy. They were looking for Grace, and what pop-culture place was named after Grace? So off to Memphis they went. They had to break a, frankly hideous, ewer, but Cas got that piece of Grace restored fine. “It is very little though,” Cas had admitted with a disappointed sigh. The next clue appeared in the remains of the ewer, and off they went. They had been on the road ever since.
Then, on this stupid artefact-hunt, an FBI agent pops up. A wanna-bee Henrikson, who hounds Dean and Cas like it is the only thing he can do. At the Star-Wars convention (where an almost drooling Dean was able to get an autograph from Harrison Ford) he nearly caught them as they carefully dismantled Obi-Wan’s lightsabre. The blue was a perfect disguise for Cas’ Grace. “I gotta say, you look very healthy for a dead criminal,” the guy had said as he grabbed Dean by the shoulder. Dean, with his fine-tuned reflexes, managed to dodge him, making him chase Dean through the convention, while Cas purloined the sabre. Dean lost the man, who identified himself as Special Agent Baer, in the throng surrounding the panel with some of the original cast. When he’d entered the motel, Cas was looking fitter and more like himself, so the Grace was safely recovered. Cas even managed to return the sabre to its home.
Then the next artefact, Baer popped up again, just as Cas swallowed the Grace. “What kind of fan-dangled drug is that?” Baer had exclaimed, before Dean had hugged his head to have him keep his eyes. “UGH! God, Winchester! That’s assault of a federal agent!” Baer had called, before Dean knocked him out. Then the next one, Baer was there again, and the next one, and now this one. Dean clutched the rhinestone necklace Marilyn Monroe had worn in ‘Gentlemen prefer blondes’ and took a deep breath through his nose. He wished he hadn’t. The slight petrichor smell that was pure Cas, tickled his senses, and he was awfully aware of how close they stood.
Castiel could hear Dean’s heart pound, and it was not slowing, even after minutes of not running.
He was grateful for the quick decision Dean had made, because with as little grace as he had, he could do nothing to throw the persistent FBI agent off their trail. But now he was pressed close to Dean, those green eyes a few centimetres above his own, looking down, so those cornhusk coloured lashes almost lay on the freckled cheeks. Cas swallowed hard, trying not to make a sound, as the shuffling sound of stealthy walking told him Baer was very close. He bit his lip to stay silent. Dean’s heart skipped a beat, then started up faster.
A deep breath just outside their hiding place, and then Baer yelled: “Winchester! Come on out! Then you can tell me all about those two dead guys that looked just like you. Down to the freckle!”
A movement in Dean’s shoulders had Cas snap his attention back to Dean, who was looking like he was about to start laughing. Cas glared at him, raising one brow imperiously. Dean gulped at that and lowered his eyes.
Baer called out again, this time calling out a totally unexpected name. “Novak! I don’t know what that guy promised you, but it ain’t worth it! You had a job, a steady pay-check and a family! Did he turn you gay?” That was preposterous! Cas bit his lip not to chuckle at the idiocy, but a small sound escaped him. The swoosh with which Baer turned was even audible for Dean, and he quickly pressed a finger to Cas’ lips, effectively silencing him, because such an intimate gesture made Cas’ own heart kick in overtime. Dean’s eyes seemed glued to his finger, or Cas’ mouth, it was hard to differentiate. Cas wanted to open his mouth and take the digit between his lips, to feel how it would be. Maybe even try and put a name to the molecule alignment, a name that would fall under ‘tastes of Dean Winchester’. To cover the warring and frankly confusing feelings inside his chest, Cas started commenting softly on how inappropriate the remark was, because he was an angel, not a man.
Cas starting to mutter under his breath, did things to Dean. Things he’d rather not investigate because Cas was his best friend, his pal, his brother from... well, a Deity, not another mother, but semantics. He shouldn’t want to put his finger between those lips and feel the wetness of that pink tongue. He shouldn’t feel the vibrations and warm puffs of breath against his finger travel all the way to his groin. “Doesn’t that imbecile know anything. I am am angel, you ass. I am a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent. I am utterly indifferent to sexual orientation.” Dean’s heart skipped a beat, then it, and his thoughts, went into double overtime. ‘He... he doesn’t care about homosexuality, bisexuality, pan, ace, aro, trans... oh my... he wouldn’t mind if I... but... would he like me to...? Holy shit!’
In the meantime Cas kept muttering, after shooting a dark-blue glance at Dean, just as his heart skipped. “I have no gender, I don’t have genitalia. I am sexless...” If Dean was honest, he found the very un-human mutterings adorable, but he had to swallow as the ‘s’-es in the last word had Little Dean perk up a bit. He shifted to try and hide the movement from Cas, who had his pelvis very close to Dean’s own. In that shift, something caught his attention. ‘No genitalia, huh Cas? Then what’s that little bulge I feel against my leg?’ Cussing himself out for feeling up an actual angel, and his best buddy, Dean leaned his head back, but all to soon, the smooth feel of Cas’ moving lips drew his eyes back to said lips.
They were pink, they were supple, if slightly chapped and Dean couldn’t help but wonder how they would taste. And if Cas would be a good kisser, a natural so to speak, or adorably inexperienced. He licked his own lips, and Cas stiffened, eyes widening slightly, following that tip of tongue that darted out and back. Dean could almost feel his eyes blow out with desire and want, and he locked eyes with Cas’ blue stare.
When Dean licked his lips, Cas locked up, overwhelmed by carnal feelings he shouldn’t have. Not as an angel, and certainly not as a best friend. But Dean was so... tempting. His freckles, his plush lips. Cas knew his own lips parted behind Dean’s finger, just out of desire to kiss. But how could he want that? Why would he want that? How could Dean want that? He was Dean’s buddy, his pal, his non-blood-related brother. Yet the urge grew with every second they stood there, pressed together in that alley. He knew he’d said something about not having genitalia, but his body did. And it was reacting to Dean very strongly. Especially when those green eyes, darkened by dilating pupils, caught his. Cas’ knees trembled and he whimpered softly.
Dean loomed over him, changing his stance ever so slightly, so now his thigh (oh father his thigh!) was between Cas’ legs and it pressed up just a little, delightfully putting pressure on the genitalia Cas had said he did not have. Oh what a falsehood! His cock was swelling and his balls were tingling. He couldn’t let this continue, he shouldn’t let it! They were not like that, no matter how much Cas had thought about it. They were friends, best friends.
Dean felt Cas tremble against him as he moved his leg to improve circulation. It effortlessly slipped between Cas’ thighs and, oh shit, that felt good! Cas trembled ever so slightly and his deep-blue eyes darkened with want. Dean had seen enough of that in his life to recognise it. But was it want for him, Dean, or did Cas just want release? Eons without sex... Dean couldn’t fathom how Cas had managed. He swallowed, his eyes still caught in that midnight-stare. He shouldn’t think of Cas that way, he reminded himself, but his mind was persistent. It wondered how Cas would look after Dean had jerked him off, or even better, after Dean had worshipped him on his knees, with his mouth. Dean bit his lip. ‘Damnit mind!’
Instead of listening to that tempting voice inside his head, Dean looked at those lips behind his finger, secretly admiring the contrast in colours, pink and tan. He sighed, then, regretfully, Dean took his finger down. “I think the coast is clear now. We could leave,” he whispered to Cas. Cas, lips parted, blinked. “We could,” he answered, equally soft. Yet they didn’t move. Cas’ eyes darted down towards Dean’s lips, and Dean couldn’t look away from this slightly parted, pink lips in front of him. They stood there, breathing each-other in, not moving, trapped in a moment.
“Winchester! Novak!” Dean glanced to the side, Cas following his stare. Baer was tracking his steps back to where they stood. He’d missed the alley mouth the first time, but would he miss it again? Both man and angel tensed up. “Fuck!” Baer grunted, grabbing his earwig. “I lost them, again.” Silence. “No. They didn’t get close enough to touch me. I’m fine. Roger. Heading back.” Baer dropped his hand with a disgruntled sigh and turned about. “Fucking Winchester...” he muttered darkly. Cas sighed, then whispered, almost apropos of nothing, “I’m trying to...” Dean snapped his head around so fast, it cricked his neck.
“You... what?” Dean whispered. “I... I...” Cas stammered, but Dean didn’t let him get to excusing himself. He grabbed both lapels of that trenchcoat and pulled Cas’ lips against his with the desperation of over a decade of want. Cas stiffened, then moulded himself against Dean with a satisfied groan. They kissed, deeply, passionately and lovingly. “Cas...” Dean panted. “Dean...” Cas replied in that gravelly voice. It was his undoing. Hands tugged at clothes, teeth nipped at skin, and fingers fumbled with belts and zippers. Dean nearly swooned when he felt how hefty Cas was. Cas groaned, throwing his head back. “Dean...” he moaned . “Dean... I want... I... I need...” Dean knew exactly what he meant. “Me too, angel. But actual sex will have to wait until the motel. Cas whined. “Deeeaaannn...” It lanced though Dean. He couldn’t blue-ball his angel, his best friend, his.... love.
He pushed Cas back until he hit the other wall. “Don’t worry, Honeybee. I’m gonna take care of you. Just let me, ok?” Cas nodded mutely, his blue eyes so dark, they looked black in the dim alley. Dean had done this only once or twice, one time for the Chief. And the Chief had said he was a natural. That his mouth was sinful and made for fucking into. So, Dean dropped to his knees, mouth watering at the sight of Cas’ uncut, fully plumped cock. He gently gave a soft lick over the slit with the very tip of his tongue. Cas moaned deeply and trembled severely. “Dean! Uuuhhhnnn!” The noise was vibrating down Dean’s spine and to his own cock, which reacted eagerly. Dean moaned and licked again, this time a broad swipe up the shaft, ending over the tip. Cas’ hands moved to cradle Dean’s head softly. Dean melted into a puddle of needy sub. He took down Cas as far as he could, without gagging.
Cas groaned and bucked, instincts taking over. Dean loved it! He hummed around his mouthful, to tell Cas he didn’t mind. Cas panted, bucked again. “Uhn! Oh... Dean... hnnnn.” He kept bucking, fucking Dean’s mouth, just like the Chief had, only the Dom had fucked him roughly afterwards, and to be honest, Dean wanted Cas to do that too. Cas kept fucking, mindless, babbling as he chased his pleasure.” So good. Is.. is this how it feels? This is nothing like I knew... Dean! Oh my! Oh.. oooohhh!” Dean felt each twitch, tasted every drop of precome and he loved it. He looked up at Cas, to see him this deeply trapped in his own pleasure. He looked ravishing! “Dean, Dean, oh, oh Dean, Deaaannn! It... it builds... it’s going to snap! Dean? Dean?” It sounded mildly panicked, and Dean put his hand on Cas’, squeezing lightly, confirming it was ok.
Cas trembled, hands clenching, tugging at Dean’s hair slightly. “Ohhhh ooohhh! Deeeaaaaannnnn!” he cried out, throwing his head back as he spurted jet after jet in Dean’s mouth. Dean swallowed best as he could but a bit escaped from the corner of his mouth. Cas slumped, cock twitching softly in Dean’s mouth, spent and softening. Dean let go and stood up. “You ok, angel?” he asked, his voice rough and fucked out. Cas trembled, but opened his eyes. “Dean,” he breathed. “That was amazing... but, you?” A mischievous thought sparked, and Dean smirked. “You want a show, angel? See what I’m packing?” Cas’ breathing sped up again. “What do you mean?” Dean slowly pulled down his jeans. “Just watch, angel... watch and enjoy.”
He started slowly, stroking over his boxers, loving the wet feel of the precome soaked cotton. “Uhnnn. Cas... you do this to me,” he grunted, eyes falling half shut, but trained eagerly on his angel’s face. Cas looked mesmerised. Dean rubbed harder. “Hnnnnn. I want you to take notes Cas. Next time this will be your hand.” He squeezed. “Ah! Yesss! Cas! I want this to be you. I’ve wanted it for so long,” Dean confessed, colour high on his cheeks. “Cas, uuuhhhnnn. Cas...”
Cas was panting by now. “Dean...” he breathed. “Do you mean that?” Dean pulled his boxers down, freeing his dick to the air. “Uhhhuhhhhhh. So, so long I’ve been dreaming about this. Cas...” he panted, stripping his cock furiously, precome slicking the way more and more.
Slick, wet sounds echoed in the small alley. “Huhhhh. Cas. Cas... tell me... tell me what you want me to do...” Dean plead, desperate. Cas swallowed hard. “I... I want you to come, Dean. Come, hard and fast, so we can go and fuck it out in the motel-room. I want to be inside you... Dean... oh my father. Dean... I... I’m hard again...” That did it. Dean let loose a loud moan and came harder than he ever had. Come splattered over his fist onto the wall, onto Cas’ coat, onto the tiles under them. His dick kept pulsing, come squirting in bursts over his fist. “Holy shit,” he trembled, and if Cas hadn’t caught him, he would have landed hard on his knees. “Dean,” Cas sounded soft and caring. “That was spectacular. Come, we should leave.” Dean nodded. “Cas,” he wavered, looking up into those blue eyes. “I love you.” Cas smiled. “I love you too. Let us go. I want to do carnal, sinful things to you.” Dean got to his feet. “Cas,” he said with a mischievous smile. “I’m glad you do have genitalia.” Cas laughed out loud. “Me too, my love. Me too.”