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Touched by an Angel

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It wasn’t something he mentioned - not to his brother and definitely not to his father. Dean shivered, pulling the panties up his thighs. They were smooth, silk, and the front had a small bow. The small cup in the front barely contained him, and the back - the back was just a string.

This is the first time he wore a thong. He normally went for the bikini bottoms or ‘granny panties’, opting for something a little more comfortable.

But he was feeling adventurous today.

He gave a small huff as the panties slid into place, and tried hard to fight the blush on his face. He looked into the motel mirror and shuttered, schooling his face the best he could, and moved to pull on the jeans.

He carefully slid the jeans up, hyper aware of all scratch of the jeans and the lines of the thong.

The knock on the door startled him, and Sam’s voice sounded through it telling him to hurry up and that they needed to head out. He made sure the jeans were secured around his hips and left the bathroom.

His mind swirled around what he was doing. He nearly regretted it - it wasn’t something he did often.

But they were on a case, and even when he did decide to wear panties, they never had to go anywhere and Sam would be off doing who-knows-what. This... this was the first time he had anything over them.

And it made him nervous.

A few moments later, Sam came out of the bathroom, pausing to look at Dean. “You okay, man?”

Dean quickly assured Sam that he was totally fine and grabbed the keys to the Impala. They’d go into town today, go to a dinner for breakfast, and everything would be the same as always. They would get their information and solve this case.

And he was going to do it in a thong.

Oh god.

He would hyperventilate if Sam was not here. He would change, if Sam wouldn’t get suspicious. He regretted this already, but he would have to see it through.
He could do this.

He gulped and followed Sam out of the room, hopping into the impala and starting her up. The soft purr of the engine calmed his nerves and AC/DC started playing from the tape deck. And he drove.

The short drive allowed him to get used to the soft scratch of the underwear and jeans and the music and engine alive beneath him settled him enough to not think about it. He was normal, or as normal as he could be wearing a thong, sitting with his brother, in a halfway decent dinner in a small town in Oklahoma.

But that wasn’t the strangest thing he’d ever done, so he would be able to get a handle on this.

They settled into the small dinner, a waitress coming over and rambling about something or other, but he was barely paying attention. Sam looked at the menu, telling her they would order in a moment, and they both looked though.

Sam ordered a breakfast salad (what the hell was that even supposed to be? Who ate salad for breakfast?), and Dean decided on an egg and bacon sandwich with pancakes and hashbrowns.

As they are, Sam went over the details of the case, something about people going missing at night every Sunday, but again Dean wasn’t paying complete attention, so Sam gave up, eating his salad instead.

Sam put it off as Dean acting strange today - if he didn’t want to talk, Sam was not going to push him. If he did, Dean would get violent and go drink again, and there was no need for that. But Dean just ate his pancakes, shifting in his seat uncomfortably.

Well, it wasn’t so much that it was uncomfortable, but he wasn’t used to the soft feel of the silk panties caressing his parts or the strap in his ass, nor was he used to the feeling of the rough material that high on his thighs.

He gave a slight shiver, trying to shake off the feeling that everyone had their eyes on him.

His pants was up, no one would be able to see. Right? His teeth clenched viciously around his fork at the thought and he struggled to regain control of himself. No one will know, he told himself.

Dean allowed himself to relax again, ignoring Sam’s bafflement over his inner turmoil. Why had he thought this was a good idea again?

When the waitress came to refill their coffee, he flirted with her briefly, gave her a wink, and took a sip of the warm, bitter bliss in a cup. Another point to calm his nerves that he was grateful for. But Sam didn’t have the same thoughts, clearly. He gave a bitchy face and sent him back to the room, like some rotten child. He was the older one here! But Sam...

“You’re clearly not paying attention. Go take a nap, or watch some of your cartoon porn or something,” he had said, dragging him to the Impala.

However, before they made it all the way out of the dinner, someone cat-called, whistling loudly. Dean froze, hoping that they weren’t whistling at him.

Oh but they were. His jeans had slid low on his hips, revealing the strings of the thong and the top of the front triangle, revealing the bow. His face reddened, all the way up to his ears. If he hadn’t been wearing a shirt, they would have been able to see that the blush danced over his shoulders.

He felt his stomach drop and his face alight with shame as the men laughed at him. “C’mon, baby, I can show you a good time!” one of the men had called, and Dean could only shrink away further in abject horror.

“Back off, asshole,” Sam growled lowly, standing at his full height. Sam towered over everyone with his impressive height and his incredible muscle mass. The guy pulled himself to full height, challenging Sam over his claim, but Sam’s eyes darkened.

It was the look of a killer, someone who had no qualms of ending someone’s life.

And he didn’t. He would kill everyone for the sake of his brother, and this was no exception. The guy flinched back, and Sam snarled again like a wild animal and guy held up his hands. “Easy now, we were just having a little fun!” the guy said, but Sam’s look was all the more murderous.

Sam held the look as he turned, wrapping his arm around Dean’s shoulder, but not before hiking the jeans up his hips to hide the thong beneath the cloth once again.

They were both silent, and Dean was shaking from embarrassment and small amounts of fear, wondering what he would have done had he been alone. It made him sick to his stomach just thinking about it. He could have handled the guys just fine, but he’d frozen up.

Sam held him close for a moment, guiding him into the passenger seat of the Impala. He plucked the keys from Dean’s hands and hopped into the driver’s side. He drove them back to the motel, allowing the AC/DC to continue trilling through the speakers because it seemed to stop the tremors that were racing under Dean’s skin.

He had to guide Dean out of the Impala and back into the room, pausing to slide the jeans back above the line of the thong. Sam sat Dean down on the bed furthest from the door - the bed that was normally his, and murmured that he’d go investigate.

“You stay here, collect yourself, and I’ll go investigate and see what’s up. Call me if you need anything.”

And then Sam was gone.

Dean say trembling for a while. His bones sagged with relief and he sunk into the bed.

it was awkward being so far from the door, but he stayed. He slid off his coat and shirt first, shrugging them into the duffel. He started sliding down the jean, a small whimper pulling from the back of his throat as it forced the silk from the thong to rub against his cock.

He knew he should have done this alone in the first place. The combo of the panties and the fabric and being all shifty in his chair dragged arousal out of him, but the fear and humiliation helped flag it... at least until he was alone.

Dean kicked the jeans from the bed, laying back. He flushed again - Sam had seen him like this. Sam, thankfully hadn't teased him about it either.

Dean curled onto his side in nothing but the panties and socks. He so badly wanted the earth to open up and swallow him. There were things you didn't share with your family and sexual kinks were at the very top of that list.

He was still mortified.

but of course the day would not give him a break. He heard the clip of wings cutting the air far too late to cover himself, so he just curled in on himself further.

"Dean...?" an almost hesitant voice asked, but he could not move to respond.

He was sure he blushed down his spine, and this time it was clearly visible without the shirt he was wearing. He curled away further, hyper-aware of the thong stretching between his ass and his state of arousal (which was pretty damn aroused, embarrassingly).

It took a moment for Cas to move, because Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to. There was a bush of fingers along the red, flushed portion of his spine, trailing all the way down to his tailbone. There was a soft press of fingers at the base before those light touches trailed along the strings of the panties.

A whimper pulled from Dean’s throat and he tried to curl himself in further, trying to hide his arousal from the angel.

“Dean,” he voice was a bit commanding, stopping his efforts to try to disappear from view. He shook a bit, unsure. Dean finally looked up at Cas, eyes red from tears he’d been holding back, just so no one could say he cried in embarrassment. Sam would never let him live that down, especially after he basically told an entire cafe that Sam cried his way through sex.

But Cas wasn’t Sam, and Cas was brushing his fingers across Dean’s thigh. “You’re not going to laugh...?” Dean asked after a moment, but Cas simply tilted his head. “Is there a reason I should?” He countered without missing a beat.

Dean paused for a moment, shrugging his shoulders and burying his face into the bed. Cas shifted, sitting on the bed near Dean’s lower back. He touched Dean’s shoulder briefly before wiping away a tear that fell without Dean’s notice.

Dean flinched at the contact, but Cas was calm, reassuring. Cas kept touching him. Not sexually, but just small brushes of his fingers against Dean’s exposed skin. He touched along his spine and his shoulders.

It was a few moments before Cas pressed a hesitant kiss against Dean’s shoulder. A shiver raced down Dean’s spine at the touch, but he relaxed quickly with the soothing touches. He was sure Cas was cheating and using his Angel Mojo to calm him and make him more pliant.

But all Cas was doing is pressing soft reassuring touches into his skin, writing out words in enochian upon his skin. “It’s okay,” they said. “You’re safe, and you’re in good hands.” And despite not knowing the words, he relaxed into the small brushes of Cas against his skin.

Without him knowing he managed to uncurl and turn to face the angel, who was now tracing soothing words into his abdomen. He doesn’t remember when Cas had removed his overcoat, or laid down next to him, but there was a kiss against his jaw.

“Are you okay with this?” Cas suddenly asked, rough voice breathing into his ear. Dean shifted, looking down. He wasn’t sure, but he had craved his. He craved it before he knew what the craving meant and he was frightened by it.

He turned pressing his face into the angel’s chest - his angel, who smelt like earth, Spring, and home. “I think so,” he answered. He fiddled with the buttons on the shirt Cas was wearing, nervous again.

Cas didn’t want to rush anything. The hunter was nervous and scared, even if he agreed that he was okay. He gave a soft smile, barely there, and pulled Dean back up to face him. He pressed one of his hands against the hunter’s face and pressed a kiss to Dean’s lips, feeling the hesitant press back into his own. He pulled back, pressing another to Dean’s forehead.

“We have time,” Cas murmured. “When you’re ready.”

Dean smiled.