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It wasn’t as if he didn’t understand the constant flow of innuendo thrown his way, no. Nor did he miss the way this human would return his insistent staring with a mix of what he had previously always believed to be apprehension stemming from fear; he was a soldier of God after all. But the more time passed, the more questions he had about that assumption, the more he wondered what lay beneath the storm of stowed emotions and angry attitude his friend seemed to favor to display at all cost.

Castiel was confused.

He couldn’t recollect the exact moment he became aware of the warmth in his chest whenever he was near Dean, and for a long time, he didn’t understand what it meant; he merely thought this was what a profound friendship did to a person (or angel). Yet he never experienced the same feelings with his other friends. None of them would make it feel as if his chest expanded to contain the warmth within it like Dean did. He had a vague idea of what it might mean, but he dare not speak of it, least of all to Dean.

Castiel was in trouble.

Because soon after he realized Dean was the only one that made him feel that warmth, he started realizing and noticing other things too. Like the way Dean would sometimes lick his lips when he was nervous, or the way his shirt stretched over the broad expanse of his chest. Or how - and this happened often, before Dean told him about personal space - when Castiel had come to talk to him and stood so close he could count the freckles on the human’s face, Dean’s eyes would drop to his mouth for just a short moment. Sometimes Dean would grab his shoulder and Castiel would feel the warmth of his large hand sear through the layers of his clothes, making his thoughts scatter and his face heat.

Even later, they became particularly indecent things.

He’d once shown up when Dean was in the shower, and he got a glimpse of him wearing nothing more than a hotel towel, drops of water still clinging to his skin and tracing little paths from his wet hair along his neck and chest to the hard planes of his stomach. The towel had hung so low on his hips, and when Castiel had stared at the light trail of hair that disappeared beneath it, the warmth in his chest migrated, becoming a liquid kind of heat in his lower abdomen. There was little time to dwell on the sensation though, as Dean flipped out about his ‘stalker tendencies’ and accused him of not understanding ‘personal space’.

Dean was wrong. Castiel did understand personal space. He just wanted to be in Dean’s.

The more time Castiel spent with his friend, the more often the twin sensations of warmth and then liquid heat returned and worsened; sometimes in situations that were highly impractical like during breakfast with Sam present, when he’d watch Dean lick and suck maple syrup off his fingers after he finished a stack of pancakes. It had aroused him so his vessel -his body- had reacted, and in his panic he had made up an excuse about being called back to Heaven just so he could leave, afraid Dean (or worse, Sam) would find out he was sitting at the breakfast table, hard in his pants. He was convinced that Dean wouldn’t appreciate the effect he was having on him.

He was in so much trouble.

It wasn’t until Sam had convinced the two of them to do research in his stead so he could catch up on some much needed sleep that Castiel realized in exactly how much.


Dean took a long drag from his beer. “So, you know anything else about these sigils?”

Castiel was yet again preoccupied as he watched Dean’s throat work when he swallowed the beer, and didn’t really hear him ask the question.

“Cas?” He rose an eyebrow.

“Oh. I’m sorry Dean. What did you say?” Castiel blinked.
Dean looked at him with a single raised eyebrow, making Castiel promptly feel like he was the subject of suspicion. Of course, he was hiding something. He only managed to refrain from squirming in his seat because he bit his tongue as his friend spoke.
“What’s goin’ on with you, man? You’ve been so damn preoccupied lately. Anything you care to share?” Dean waved his bottle at him.

“I- no, Dean. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. I was simply distracted for a moment.” He was the worst liar.

“By what? Anything on Angel Radio got your attention? Or are you just as bored as I am with all this nerd crap?” Dean sighed as he pushed one thick book aside with a carelessness that made another book drop to the floor. Neither bothered to pick it up.

“N-no. Yes. I am bored with all this nerd crap, Dean.” The absolute worst liar.

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean narrowed his eyes and looked at his friend. “You sound like something’s still bothering you,” he said, worry bleeding into his voice, “you know you can tell me shit, right?” He clamped a warm hand over his friend’s shoulder, giving it what Castiel supposed was a reassuring squeeze, and it would be; if it weren't for the fact that Dean was sitting so close, close enough that if Castiel leaned forward just a little, he' could easily kiss-
Castiel froze, blinked once, then panicked and flinched away from the scorch of that warm hand.
Dean's eyes went wide. “What the-” Before he knew it, Castiel was off his chair and backing away, making the piece of furniture tipping over with a loud bang.
“Woah, Cas? What the hell’s going on?” Dean got up as well, following the angel with raised hands until the other man’s back hit a bookshelf.
“Did I do something wrong?” Dean took a step back, probably hoping that Castiel would calm down.
“N-nothing’s wrong, Dean, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Castiel’s mind gave him a single option. Flee. Now.

“I have to go.” And with that, Castiel took off, leaving Dean standing in the library with a baffled look on his face.


Castiel returned to Dean only a day later, unable to stay away, feeling somewhat guilty about his sudden and panicked departure. It didn’t surprise him that when he went to find his friend, he was working on his beloved car in the warmth of the Juli evening sun; not in the bunker's garage, but outside. Judging by the empty buckets and leftover suds in the grass (and not to mention the almost blinding sheen of black) he had taken the Impala out for a wash. It took him several long moments to find his voice and courage to interrupt his work.

Castiel blinked. It took him several more moments to process the fact that Dean, was in fact, not wearing a shirt. The angel stared; at the rippling broad expanse of Dean’s back, (and, making him bite his lip, lower) where the human stood bent over the hood of his car, humming to a familiar tune that blasted from his car radio, wrench making crick-and-pop sounds.

I should say something. Castiel thought, but found himself unable to do anything but stare, heat pooling low in his stomach as he watched his friend work.
A particularly loud clang snapped Castiel out of his trance.

“Son of a b-!” Dean jerked away from the car, wrench falling to the ground as he shook his injured hand and instinctively latched his mouth over the cut with another curse. He jolted as he suddenly noticed Castiel standing there.

“Hello, Dean,” he quickly said now that the other man was facing him, “I uh- wanted to apologize for my sudden disappearance yesterday.” Castiel felt heat creeping up from his neck to his face, making the tips of his ears burn in an accusing sort of way.

“Jesus, Cas!” Dean fumbled for a clean piece of cloth among the dirty rags, the cut on his hand bleeding freely now. He looked at Castiel with amused narrowed eyes.
“How long have you been standing there?” The corners of his lips twitched into a small smile as he undoubtedly saw Castiel’s flushed state; it felt as if the burn on his cheeks was a beacon so bright, so obvious, he might as well tell Dean everything, immediately.

But all he could manage was looking anywhere but at his friend’s face, and so his gaze landed on the bleeding cut in his hand.

“You’re hurt.” As it always did, concern for his friend’s wellbeing overrode all other instincts, even the one that told him that Dean saw through him and he needed to flee. And so it happened, that Castiel, heart hammering in his chest, approached his distractingly shirtless friend, trying to keep his eyes focused on the cut.

“It’s just a scratch, Cas.” Dean’s voice was softer than usual, yet Castiel didn’t notice. He also didn’t see the small smile on the other man’s face as he let the angel take hold of his hand to examine the wound.

“Do you want me to-” he paused, “I could heal that for you.” Castiel still did not dare to look up into Dean’s eyes. He was sure he’d lose all composure if he did. Coincidentally, this made him miss how Dean’s stare had grown heated, or how his lips had parted slightly.

“Sure, Cas, go ahead.” Castiel ignored how (he thought) Dean’s voice sounded lower, and rubbed a thumb over the cut, letting his grace knit the skin back together, the bright blue light of it fading once the job was done. He found it hard to let go of Dean’s hand though. Even harder to stop rubbing his thumb over the spot the cut had been; like his brain malfunctioned and was stuck in repeat. Dean would soon pull away, Castiel knew; this was far past the ‘acceptable’ amount of touching Dean would accept from him or any other man.

Except… he didn’t.
Castiel didn’t know how long they’d stood there, how long he’d been transfixed on what he was doing, until Dean broke the silence.

"Cas."

It was the way he said it that made Castiel's eyes snap up. Low, like a hushed whisper, and when Castiel finally did look into those green eyes, he saw something unexpected.

Heat. Need.

There was little time to question what he saw, for those green eyes dropped to his mouth once more, only this time, this time it was followed by the rough press of lips against his own. Castiel's eyes widened before squeezing shut as he felt every nerve in his body come to life.

When Dean pulled away (too soon) Castiel stared at him, slack jawed and wide eyed, trying to process the onslaught of information his brain was supplying him with; did that really just happen? Why did Dean kiss him? Dean kissed him! What did this mean? Dean. Kissed him. And now he was looking at him with uncertainty in his eyes, face flushed (but probably not as bad Castiel's); Dean seemed to search for something in his face.

Castiel didn't give him time to find it.

The angel surged forward, mouth crashing clumsily with Dean's, who made a sound in the back of his throat before grabbing fistfuls of trench coat and -with what seemed to be barely contained restraint- carefully letting his tongue trace Castiel's parted lips.

This time it was Castiel's turn to make a sound, one he couldn't remember ever producing before, one very akin to a strangled groan.

That sound seemed to be the end of Dean's doubts; a sharp intake of breath was all the warning the angel got before the other man used his grip on the trench coat to pull him flush against his body and sliding his tongue into his mouth to initiate a heated, desperate kiss that had them gasping for breath.

Castiel realized a couple of things at the same time.

- He didn't realize his heart could beat this fast, or his breath could be this labored without actual physical exertion or life-threatening danger.

- He had no recollection of how his hands had ended up gripping Dean's hips, thumbs flirting with the skin of his waist.

- Dean was making THE BEST sounds.

- He was getting so hard so fast it almost hurt.

- Kissing was, to quote the man he was, currently, kissing; awesome.

 

As his mind tried to process the information, Dean had started walking him backwards, never breaking the kiss, until his back suddenly hit something solid. Castiel vaguely registered the gleaming black of the Impala from the corner of his eyes but paid it no further mind, for Dean was boxing him in, and he was so close and warm, and-

"D-Dean!" Castiel gasped, eyes flying open, breaking the ongoing frantic kiss as he felt the human slot his body against him and the throbbing erection in his pants was suddenly met with an equally hard press. Castiel looked at him in an almost scandalized, shocked sort of way.

"Jesus, Cas," Dean said, voice completely wrecked, "that feels like it needs fixing." His warm hand slid down between them to cup Castiel's erection, drawing a pained whimper from the angel as well as the involuntary act of his hips bucking up and into the touch.

"Fuck." Dean hissed, before digging his hands under his coat, then started pulling at the dress shirt until there was space for those warm, callused hands to slip underneath the fabric.

He was unprepared for the scalding heat of those hands against his skin, nor the sensation of them sliding along his sides, towards his back, his fingers toying just under the waistband and Castiel could do little more than bury his face in the crook of Dean's n neck, huffing his breaths against the other man's collarbone with his eyes squeezed shut as shivers of pleasure ran along his spine.

"Cas, hey." To his dismay, Dean had stopped moving altogether.
"Cas, come on, look at me," Dean said, "you know you can you touch me too, right?"

Castiel blinked, only realizing now that his hands were still at Dean's hips, unmoving.
"I- was… yes."
And with that, he let go of his iron grip. He hesitated before letting his hands trail along Dean's abdomen, up to his ribs and over his chest, the skin hot and soft to the touch. He found Dean beautiful. Endlessly fascinating. Arousing.

 

Castiel watched him, how his green eyes were darker, pupils blown wide, watched how he closed those eyes and sighed as the angel slid the flats of his hands across his pectorals, then snap open when brushing a nipple. Dean grabbed one of his wrists and guided it lower, past his stomach, and pressed his hand against the straining swell of his erection.

"Feel what you do to me?" Dean groaned almost obscenely when Castiel flexed his fingers against him.
"Hell, I haven't been this hard in a long time. 's your fault." Castiel felt his own erection throb at Dean's words.

"Dean… please." Castiel felt like he would burst at the seams soon.

"Please what, Cas? What do you want?"

And with in single clarifying moment it all fell into place.

"You." He said, before wrapping his arms around Dean's neck and hungrily devouring those soft lips.
Dean did not stay idle for long, humming into his mouth in approval, and within seconds one hand was back under his shirt, while the other pulled his tie off by the knot. Before long, Dean was halfway through unbuttoning and Castiel had his hand in the short, spiky hair of his human, almost writhing against him in sheer desperation.

Dean kissed the corner of his mouth, then his jawline, his ear too. Castiel almost shouted when he felt Dean's teeth and tongue tease the sensitive skin right below his ear. He didn't stop there; the last few buttons were sent flying as he ripped the shirt open, inpatient to get to the newly exposed skin.
Dean's mouth descended down the cord of muscle in his neck while both his hands slid slowly up and down his torso, hot, open mouthed kisses and the scrape of teeth making Castiel shiver from the twin sensations. Lower and lower he kissed, nipped and licked, and when he reached his navel, Castiel couldn't help but writhe under his touch; he felt like a bowstring pulled taut, trembling for its release.

Dean didn't stop there.

Dropping to his knees, Dean hungrily mouthed Castiel's erection through his pants, and Castiel almost fell right over the edge of pleasure.

"Ah! Ahh-!" He gasped for air as deft hands undid his belt, unzipped his pants and pulled his boxers down to free his aching cock from its confinement.

"Shh Cas, I got you." With those words a warm hand wrapped tightly around him, and Castiel watched his cock disappear between those plush lips in complete and utter disbelief. He had no words to describe the hot, wet heat that was Dean's mouth, nor could he process the intense pleasure it gave him. All he could do was brace himself against the Impala and moan Dean's name.

Castiel then realized that Dean was neglecting his own arousal in favor of pleasuring him.

This was unacceptable.

"Ah! Dean! Get back UP here, NOW!" He growled through clenched teeth, before remembering he was much stronger than the human and yanking him back to his feet.
"I want to touch you too," Castiel managed to say before impatiently pulling at Dean's waistband.

"O-okay Cas, hold on." He unbuttoned his jeans as quick as he could, gasping and bucking up hard when Castiel's impatience made him immediately dig a hand into Dean's boxer, the second the button and zipper gave way.

"Oh Jesus, fuck, Cas!" Dean groaned when the angel didn't waste a single second to wrap his hand around him and squeeze his aching dick. His breaths came in short pants and quick succession, and Castiel couldn't help himself; he had to kiss Dean again, so he did, lips meeting hot and greedy.

Dean had started to rut up into his stroking hand, groaning into his mouth in reckless abandon. Then Castiel felt Dean shift and suddenly, it was both of them clasped tightly together in his fist, and Castiel was lost. Lost in sensation, the sound of Dean groaning against his mouth, the smell of his skin, the heat of his body, the slick slide of their tongues. The feeling of their cocks pressed tightly together.

It was too much, yet not enough. He wanted more, yet was overwhelmed, tension building higher and higher.

With great gasping breaths, Castiel felt his arousal pull taut, the pressure enough to make him-

"Cas… Fuck, you're so… I'm gonna-" Dean groaned thickly against his neck between moans.

And Castiel came.

Between the stars that exploded behind his eyelids, the now wet friction of Dean's hand on them and the fact that Dean was kissing him again, moaning into his mouth as he too forcefully came all over his own hand and Castiel, a strange moment of clarity, suspended in time, overwhelmed the angel.

Why on earth and heaven above, was this considered a sin? How was love and pleasure so profound a sin? It would be a sin to not experience either. He watched Dean come down from his towering high as his breathing evened out, a sight that made his chest expand with that now familiar warmth. It made him reach for the human, gently cradling his face, thumb stroking along his cheekbone.

Dean looked at him as he was going to say something, but only smiled, leaning into the touch with his eyes closed, pressing his forehead against Castiel's, catching his breath.

It seemed like hours before he finally did speak.
"You were spying on me, earlier, weren't you? Saw something you like?" Dean smiled at him fondly.

"I was… watching you, yes." Castiel admitted, heat rising to his face once more.

"And I saw you."