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Finding home

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Cas was pacing back and forth in Dean's room in the bunker. Dean watched him over the top of his newspaper, tracing the angel's furious steps. He'd asked what was up when he'd first arrived, but the angel had muttered "I'm fine, Dean." He'd been wearing in the carpet ever since.

It wasn't just pacing. It was neck-rubbing, overcoat-belt smoothing and casual touching of Dean's desk on every counter-clockwise pass. Dean stood up and stepped into the angel's way, arms out. Castiel bounced off and glared, moving around him. Dean moved in front of him again, arms outstretched like a guard in basketball. Castiel stopped, face contorting and arms rising--to throw a punch or move Dean out of the way, he didn't know, but it was time for words:

"Cas." The angel's face snapped up at the sound of his voice. He crooked his head, staring through Dean to the desk he'd been tapping as he walked by it for the past 10 minutes. Dean rested his weight on his back foot, and kept his arms open and away from his body.

"What's up?"

Castiel shook his head like he was trying to avoid a fly. "Nothing, Dean." His eyes kept skipping up to Dean's and then away again. Dean stepped forward and dropped his hands on the angel's shoulders. He turned him and walked him backwards to the bed. He backed him up until he had to sit or fall like the plank he was currently impersonating and pressed him down to sit on the comforter, saying "Sit. I'll be back."

Dean turned away and caught a glimpse of a Castiel's wide eyes and relaxing shoulders. He walked to the kitchen, intent on getting a tumbler of liquor and a glass of warm milk for the angel, when Sam caught him. They ended up chatting about their next case--a troll in Texas was leaving goat carcasses around the local farms--and Dean veered back into the kitchen to grab and heat up a slice of pie to include in his relaxation-kit.

By the time he walked back into his room, balancing two glasses, a plate and two forks while opening the door, it had been a solid 30 minutes since he told Cas to wait. As he kicked the door shut with his ankle, Dean glanced up and froze.

Cas was still there, sitting in the same position, far smooth and his hands resting palms-up in his lap. Dean stared: he'd never seen Cas this happy as an angel, without aid of drugs, horsemen-induced hunger, or in the throws of a manic attempt to keep the devil at bay. He kept facing Cas as he set the milk, whiskey and pie down, and approached the angel.

"Cas? You ok, buddy?"

Cas raised his eyes to Dean's, clear and blue and open in a way they hadn't been since he rebelled. His entire body was relaxed and he looked--grounded.

"Yes, of course Dean. You put me here, so I was waiting." No touch of his usual bitchiness, just calm statement. Dean nodded,

"Ok Cas," he said, raising it into a question,

Cas arched his eyebrows and it panged in Dean that Cas was starting to pull out of this calm place. He changed tacks. He wanted to see where this could go; Cas wasn't pacing, he seemed almost peaceful.

"Keep sitting there." He waited for the angel to snark, or answer back, but nothing came but a small smile and the angel easing back onto his arms on the bed.

"You'll love this pie, Cas," Dean tried. Still no negative reaction. Castiel just sat there, arms open and waiting.

Dean walked over and sat down. He sliced off the corner of the apple pie but as he was starting to hand the handle of the fork to Castiel, he changed direction and raised the food to his friend's house.

"Open," Castiel opened his mouth, pulling the last crumbs of pie off the fork with his lips.

Dean waited until he chewed and swallowed, "More?"

Castiel nodded and Dean cut him another piece. A few more in, and Dean stood, missing Cas's warmth in the quick walk to his desk. He gripped the milk glass and brought it back over. He sat down, thigh touching's Cas's,

"Drink," he said, and Castiel opened his mouth again. Dean tipped a little at a time into the angel's mouth. It was a little like feeding Sam when he was younger, but this entire dynamic was much more like some of his adventures in power play he remembered from when he had time for more than a quick rut in a bar bathroom. He'd been with people who liked props and characters with their dominance and submission play, and others who just liked clear roles in the bedroom. He understood the need--orders from his father gave him a role in life, and if only for a time, they made everything simpler. Cas's background made him a natural for subspace.

He finished feeding Castiel the pie, stealing a few bites for himself, and left the alcohol to outgas on the desk. He tucked the plate under his bed and tried to decide what to do next. Cas had leaned into his personal space as he'd bent over, so that when he sat up he bumped shoulders with the angel. He moved his arm back to brace his weight against, and then leaned forward a bit and raised the arm behind Cas's back. Cas was still entirely loose and calm, eyes following his every move.

Let's see where this goes, he thought, and placed his hand on the angel's back. He rubbed and what tension there had been in those muscles left, leaving the angel fluid. After warming the angel's entire back, Dean pulled his hands back into his lap. Castiel followed them, pillowing his head on the hunter's thigh and trailing his hand up and down what leg he could reach. He couldn't go further without talking, but Cas was deep into subspace and he couldn't consent to anything right now. He put his hands on the angel's shoulders and turned him to face him.

"Cas," he started, not sure where to go, "Cas, I'm going to let you stay here tonight until you come out of this. Stay where you are as long as you can or want to, but know when you come out I'm here and we can talk about this," Castiel nodded, eyes still and features relaxed.

Dean eased his friend out of his overcoat and jacket, and took off his loafers, but left everything else on. He himself stripped down to his briefs and t-shirt, and maneuvered them both to lying on their backs in his bed. He would feel creepy about this--it wasn't the first time he'd wanted the angel but the first time he'd done anything about it--but he couldn't find it in himself to be tortured over this. Cas was happier than he'd seen him in months and he liked that he could control making this one small part of his friend's life easier.


Cas woke up, muscles clenching in confusion that he had been asleep and that he seemed to be lying next to someone. On someone. He could hear a heartbeat and the world was shifting up and down in rhythmic patterns indicating breath. He ran through his last few hour's memories, and though the ones before he fell asleep had a shimmering, drugged feeling, he could see in them no reason for fear. At the memories, he felt a shifting around his waist and realized he had an erect penis. Fascinating. He glanced over at Dean, who was awake with his eyes open.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel said, remembering some of the calm which had come of letting Dean lead the conversation.

"Hey Cas," Dean said, before stretching and glancing at the clock. 6am, a few hours before Sam would be up. Castiel noticed the sunlight brought out the gold in Dean's hair and eye-lashes, and that his shirt was crooked over his shoulders. Dean sat up, but Cas stayed laying on the soft bed.

"So, Cas," Dean started, but didn't know where to continue. He dropped his eyes, "About last night,"

Castiel stayed silent, still enjoying the feeling of waiting for Dean to move.

"How much do you know about what happened?" Castiel shook his head: he had not information other than that he and his anatomy had enjoyed being held within the realm of Dean's possibilities.

Dean scrubbed his face with his hand. "Alright. So, some people, like me, and I think we can agree, like you," he glanced at the supine angel and continued, "like orders." He paused. "For limited times and places, often in bed." He looked at the angel Castiel nodded lightly.

"That can be because they like orders in the rest of their lives, or don't; because they were told what to do as children, or not; because they like being bottoms, or not." He rushed on, seemingly unwilling to go into what a "bottom" was if Castiel didn't already know. "There's no real way to know. But some people like to have the person or people they're," Dean stumbled, "they're friends, or they're intimate with, or they love," Dean was in no way making eye contact of any kind, "they like to have that person make them useful. They find it," he paused and then went on, voice louder than the near-whisper it had sunk to, "They find it comforting. To know what to do."

He looked down at Castiel, expecting a rebuke or disgust or something. But he just got a nod. Castiel inferred this was the time he should contribute,

"That seems an accurate summary. I felt contained and encased and in that restriction given freedom to feel whatever I wanted to. In the restriction I found a peacefulness I've not felt in some time."

Dean's eyes were wider, but he kept on.

"If you were interested, I could help you, look into this more?" The entire second half of that statement raised in a question.

Castiel nodded, "I would enjoy that; I find you pleasing physically and our profound bond ensures an appropriate level of intimacy for sexual intercourse."

Dean choked a bit at that, but then smiled. He settled his hands on the angel's blanked-covered stomach and said,

"Not before breakfast though."

Castiel nodded again, and sat up, hooking folding his legs in, knee overlapping Dean's thigh. He cocked his head, "These relationships, where one party likes orders and the other gives orders, they do not continue thus at all times?"

Dean shook his head, "Some people try, but no, the good ones--at least that I've seen--have times when they do orders and rules, and times when they're equal. That would be what we could do," he trailed off.

Castiel nodded a final time and then swung his legs to the floor. "I have business to attend to elsewhere, but I will return tonight for," his eyes trailed on the rumpled bed, "further explorations."


Dean was jittery all day, preparing for the night with Castiel. He read through some guides online, went on a walk to try and remember his first time--with a pretty blond named Jennifer with a riding crop and a drill sergeant voice he still wanked to--and what he would have wanted. He decided he would make it simple, nothing in Cas's expression indicated he would want or need an elaborate role-play or a heavy level of pain or any of the trappings porn's kabuki sex always implied was necessary for these things. Dean planned to use what was on hand, or more accurately, on angel.

His tie. His overcoat's belt. His own body.

When Castiel arrived, it was after dinner. He came to the living room, where Sam was seated. Dean heard his wings and was sprinting before he could hear the words "copulate," "fornicate," or "restraint," populate the air he would need to be breathing for the next few months, but when he got within clear earshot, they were discussing the case, calmly and without any mention of the upcoming sexcapades.

Dean planned to tell Sam, and Sam must have guessed from Cas being present at breakfast, but he just didn't want to do it today. They all sat and chatted for a while before Cas threw him a knowing glance, and he stood. Sam wished them a good night with only a light leer, and they walked down the hall to Dean's bedroom.

Cas was walking behind him, and when he held up his hand and stopped, he did so without bumping into him.

Dean turned, and the angel's smell enveloped him. His skin began to tingle, but he pushed that away for the moment. In a low voice, he started:

"When we walk in, we'll be in the 'scene,' meaning you follow what I say, but, and this is important Cas, if I do anything you don't like or don't want, say stop. We're not doing anything where you would say 'no' without meaning 'stop,' so we won't need what others call a safe word. I," he paused, "I want this to be good. For you. Normally, we'd do a negotiation, covering what we each would and would not do, what we both wanted and did not want, but since is your first time, I'll keep things light and you tell me to stop if you need me to."

"And if you do something I want more of?" Castiel inquired.

Dean ducked his head, "You can say that, too."

"Ok, ready?" Dean stepped over the lintel, and immediately he changed. He stood straighter, shoulders squarer, and his hands drifted behind his back into something like parade rest. Castiel paused, standing on the doorway. He took a breath and walked through, keeping his eyes on Dean's the whole time.

"Shut the door, Cas." Dean said.

But it wasn't Dean's regular voice. It was lower, firmer, the words cut shorter and enunciated clearer.

The room was unchanged from the night before except for a four-legged chair set in the middle of the room, its back to the door, and a blanket folded into quarters in front of it.

Castiel shut the door. "Drop your coats and sit there." Castiel felt the rules of this space wrap around him as he did so, allowing them to fall in a heap where he stood, before walking to around the chair, passing close enough to feel the brush of Dean's coat on the back of his hand, before sitting in the chair, tucking his feet under the folded blanket.

Dean turned to him, a smile lighting up his face before it sealed over again with stern stillness. The last ounce of tension dissolved from Cas's shoulders. Dean stepped up to him, knee nudging his slightly parted legs farther apart, then standing in the space he made. His hands came up under Cas's chin, and it took him a moment to realize Dean was undoing the knot of his tie.

It's thinner tail tapped its way up his chest and slipped through his collar with a soft sound. Next thing Castiel knew, his vision was dark, with pieces of light coming through over and under his tie, but most of his field blank. Dean's voice was low and clear in his ear,

"You won't need your eyes, just your ears and your skin." Castiel nodded, and closed his eyes. He felt Dean move away and behind him, towards the door. He heard the click of his overcoat's buttons on the floor, and the slick of the belt leaving its loops. He felt Dean's presence getting closer and closer behind him, until he knew he was standing over him.

Castiel tipped his head back until his crown rested on Dean's stomach. Dean's hand came down to brush his hair back from his forehead, pulling stray strands out from under the blindfold. That hand slipped down to the intersection of his shoulder and neck as he felt another hand come to rest on his shoulder. In tandem, the two hands slid down the outsides of his arms to where his palms rested in his lap, gathering them up and slipping them behind his back. He heard the whisper of his coatbelt coming off Dean's shoulder before he felt it wrap around his wrists.

His first instinct was to struggle, to resist, but as he took in a breath to object he smelled Dean's coat and his own scent from his nearby chest, and the smell rippled through him, bringing him back to a center of calm.

Dean finished wrapping his wrists and Castiel felt him move around to stand before him again. He leaned over, and whispered in his ear:

"You are doing such a good job holding still, Cas, good job."

Waves of pleasure rolled down from Castiel's shoulders and he smiled at the recognition. Dean kept talking,

"I'm going to take you out of some of your clothes, Cas. I'm going to touch you all over, and then you're going to come, but only when I say you can. Do you understand me?" Castiel nodded. He didn't know what it would be like to engage in an orgasm, but if it felt like those shivers, he liked the idea.

Dean knelt on the folded up blanket, resting his hands on the angel's knees. He trailed the back of his hand up the angel's chest, before sliding it behind the angel's head and pulling him forward, lips nearly touching. He murmured,

"You may not kiss back until I say you can. You may not speak. You may make noises if you cannot help them."

He closed the distance and pressed their closed mouths together, feeling a spark down to his toes, feeling the soft-close-warm-sweetness of the other man's mouth on his. He moved his lips against Cas's and noticed he wasn't moving. Good, Dean thought, as he felt tension building in the angel's clenched thigh muscle and tightening neck, just a few minutes of this and we'll be ready to go.

Dean pressed in further, using his grip on the angel's neck to tilt his head before slipping his tongue over the other man's lips. Castiel started and let out a moan, before leaning his body in closer to Dean's. Dean guessed this didn't count as "kiss[ing] back" because he still wasn't moving his mouth, but he filed it away as a sign the angel was getting anxious. He pressed his tongue into the angel's mouth, but didn't like the angel's passive tongue. He pulled back enough to speak, lips still brushing Cas's,

"You cannot speak, but you may now kiss back," and Castiel was on him, tongue pushing against his, licking and tangling and reveling in the shape of the kiss. Dean moan when Cas pushed into his mouth, fingers sliding up and tangling in the angel's hair, pulling him tighter. Castiel winced, and leaned back a bit. Dean opened his eyes, and seeing he'd pulled the angel as far as his arms, still caught behind the chair, could go, leaned in farther, free hand going to the angel's hip to balance himself.

He whispered, "You're doing so good, Cas, so fucking good," and the angel dove back into kissing. As they were learning the push and tells of their mouths together, Dean's hand started wandering, beginning by pulling Cas's shirt out of his pants and then trying to work the buttons out. Frustrated, Dean pulled back panting, determined to use both hands to speed the process. He got the buttons undone while Castiel looked at him through blindfolded eyes, mouth open and looking fucked.

Dean undid his pants' button and zipper, before hovering his hand over the angel's half-erection. He moved in slowly, dipping for a light kiss before pulling back, in and then out and then in and then out until the angel was practically vibrating with irritation, and his hips lifting with each attempt to get closer. Dean kept his palm close but untouching as he ignored the angel's seeking mouth to explore his neck, beginning a hickey only to get distracted by his stark collarbone--Got to feed him up--and then by his straining nipple.

Dean worked his way down the angel's chest, before coming face to face with a full erection. Dean breathed over it, and Castiel's hips slammed backwards, making the chair rock and quiver. Dean moved his hand, encouraging Cas to lift up and slipping his pants down off his ass a little to give them room to work. He repeated the process, carefully lifting his briefs away from his red cock until it and his balls were exposed to the open air, caressed by Dean's breath.

The instant before he took him entirely into his mouth, he said, "You can talk now, Cas," and then deep throated the angel.

"Fuck!" The angel shouted, "Dean Winchester! Fuck!" He was panting, his hips lifting up, his sightless eyes staring up at the ceiling as he rocked his thrown-back head from side to side. "More, please, more, Dean, now!"

Dean grinned as well as he could and fastened a hand around his friend's base, before dropping into a quick pace, sliding him in and out of his mouth as fast as his neck and back could take him. He felt Castiel falling into a rhythm and pulled back, Castiel whining when he did so.

"You can't come until I say you can, Cas. Remember," to get the warning to stick, he slid his spit-slicked hand down to the angel's balls, squeezing gently. He was about to dive back in when he heard,

"I do not know if that is possible, Dean Winchester." Something about saying his full name seemed to work for Cas, a fact which Dean filed away for future reference.

"Well, we can stop," he said, rocking back on his heels and releasing his grip on the angel's testicles.

"No!" Cas said, then quickly, "No to stopping. I want to continue. I will endeavor to control my orgasm."

"Alright, then," Dean said before enveloping the angel's cock in warm and soft mouth. Castiel cried out at the change in sensations and within moment they were rocking together again, Castiel hunching as far as his restrained arms could let him, Dean holding his hip with one hand and the base of his cock with the other. When he began moving his hand in rhythm with his mouth, Castiel's breath got harsher, body tightening further,

"Dean, I can't, I'm going to, Dean, please," and Dean pulled back, releasing his hands as Castiel continued to jerk into the air before slowing, mouth gaping.

"Not yet, Cas," Dean said,

Castiel gritted his teeth, pulled his shoulders back and sat up straight. He breathed through those clenched teeth for a three breaths, then five, then ten. Finally, he seemed in better control, and Dean leaned back in.

Using just his mouth, Dean began licking up the length of the angel's cock, circling around the head before trailing to the base and tasting his balls. He had no rhythm, gave Cas nothing to thrust into, and kept his hands to himself. He kept this up, finally raising up so he was only just breathing on his wet cock.

"Cas?" he whispered. Castiel nodded, not knowing what to, but beyond distraction,

"You can come when I touch you next." Castiel tensed, his breath getting deeper and his knees raising and one breath more before Dean swallowed him down entirely, throwing his arms around the angel's waist and tucking his head into his stomach.

The angel shouted, words that sounded like cusses but which were certainly not in English, words opening new worlds. He kept talking as his body thrust into Dean's mouth, Dean keeping his lips tight although they ached from unaccustomed use, until the angel finally quieted. Before he could cool down too far, Dean reached behind him and undid his bindings, and slipped the blindfold off to find two pleasure blown blue eyes staring at him.

He was just turning around to spread the blanket under his knees more fully on the floor when Castiel lunged at him, landing in his lap and wrapping his arms and legs around him, head tucked into his shoulder. Dean eased himself off of his knees onto his hip, and then both of them to lying on their sides on the floor. He rubbed his hand up and down the angel's back, murmuring into his scalp--since his ear was tucked into his neck--

"You did so good, Cas. Such a good job. You did really well. Good job. You're good. Good."

Castiel was quivering, no, shaking and Dean looked down, afraid to see tears, but he didn't: just a strong look, intense in its clarity. It was the look of a man who'd found home.

Castiel emerged from Dean's room while the hunter was still sleeping in the bed they'd both managed to crawl to after a good hour of cuddling and aftercare on the floor, to see Sam sitting at the kitchen table, working on the troll case. As he headed towards the door, Sam spoke:

"Later, Cas," His eyebrows were raised, but Castiel ignored them.

Castiel nodded at Sam, smoothing his hand down his tie and hooking his thumbs in his coat belt.

"Yes, I will see you both later."