Never in his life did Dean pray much.
Despite the fact that he hunted demons and ghosts, despite the fact that he knew that monsters existed, he had never believed in a higher power. Oh, well, actually he had. However, not in any good kind of higher power.
To put it bluntly, Dean Winchester just had never believed in God. (Alternatively, just not in a God who actually gave a rat’s ass about what happened to humanity.)
Therefore, Cas had every right and reason to claim that Dean had no faith. He did not, true to that, when it came to a God. However, Dean did, in fact, have faith. In Castiel, the Angel of Thursday.
So whenever Dean did find himself on his knees (metaphorically speaking, because Winchesters would never get on their knees unless a fucking demon broke both of their legs – and even then they’d have the sass to sit on their backside rather than kneel), it was more of a shout out to Castiel than to Heaven, or God. Or the Angels in general, since ninety-nine per cent of these were total douches.
It had actually become quite the habit. ‘Yo, Cas, get your feathery ass down here, we got a big case coming up’ was kind of usual by now, just like ‘Cas, dude, we found one of these Angel weapon thingies, so how about you get here in…Mh, how about, now?’ or ‘You hungry, Cas? We got some awesome burgers’ were an integral part of his daily schedule.
Dean did not really think of them as prayers, to be completely honest. He thought of them more like sending a text message via mind. Mainly he thought so because, really, he just said what he would usually type, and Cas responded either instantly, or not at all. (Though Dean was rather smug that Cas would answer Dean’s messages most of the time, while blatantly ignoring Sam just one minute before that).
In rare cases, when Dean was seriously desperate, he actually did kneel, clasping his hands together firmly. That would be Dean’s definition of a prayer. He would start these differently, with Castiel, Angel of Thursday. He would not say them aloud, but Cas got them anyway, he knew that.
Obviously, when Cas asked him to stop praying so often, Dean said he would. He figured that Cas probably got, like, the biggest headache of all times whenever Dean prayed to him – Cas’ expression was just that pained and desperate when he asked his friend to stop, please. Dean promised, easily, that he would remember Cas’ words; that he would stop praying so often.
Cas could not know, of course, that Dean thought praying only entailed kneeling down, bowing your head and clasping your hands. Dean was in no way aware that praying was the simple act of addressing God/Heaven/the Angels and then wishing for something.
Dean could absolutely not have known what it would trigger in an Angel when a prayer was directly aimed at them, when the human would first think/say the Angels name before sending his wish.
Usually, a prayer would be flung towards Heaven in a very general way. Or it would be directed specifically at God or all of the Angels. It was seldom that a human would pray to one single Angel. Moreover, if a human did so, it would usually be one of the Archangels.
When, however, a minor Angel soldier like Castiel received a prayer directed at him, it was very impressive, over-whelming. Most certainly not for the human, no. Nevertheless, for the Angel, it would be too much to comprehend, the kind of happiness they usually were not supposed to feel.
He liked to tell himself that he was good at ignoring these prayers pointedly. When Sam nearly begged him to descend to Earth and talk to him, Castiel did not feel much more than what a normal human would feel after receiving something that they worked hard for. In other words, it was very pleasing, and his mind was clouded with pride for a few seconds, but he felt no urge to actually follow the order a prayer usually implied.
After a few times Sam prayed to him, he had learnt to ignore the pride and happiness, because damn, Castiel was an Angel of the Lord. He did not bow to simple pleasures like that; he would not have to follow the simple wish of a human.
Cas was actually quite proud to have that amount of self-restriction.
Then, however, came Dean’s first prayer.
It caught the Angel off-guard, because as he sensed the incoming prayer, he had figured it would be one of Sam’s. But this prayer, it was so much more intensive; and Castiel could not deny it, his vessel in the Winchester’s motel room before he could even think about it.
Since that day, Cas had insisted that it was because a) Dean was the Righteous Man and b) their bond was profound, period. After all, Cas had been the one to raise Dean from perdition. He had seen Dean’s soul, and if that did not create a bond, then what did?
He would be fine, Cas figured. Now that he knew what kind of intensity Dean’s prayers held, he was prepared, he could choose between giving in or holding out until it was over. It worked that way and enabled him to decide whether he wanted to face Dean or not.
However, that was before Castiel developed something for Dean that he had struggled to name. This attachment was something new for him, and it made it so much more difficult to deal with the feelings the prayers caused within him.
Where Sam’s prayer made him feel happy, Dean’s pleading had left him with a strong feeling of euphoria. Sam’s requests made him feel proud – Dean’s wishes made him feel fucking invincible because Dean trusted him enough to pray. Moreover, what with Sam’s chants had felt quite pleasurable, with Dean’s it was downright arousing.
Cas knew how this was supposed to be, he knew that what Dean’s prayers made him feel was not average, but he could not help it. He made it a thing to either appear before Dean even uttered a second sentence (because Father help him, if he waited for too long, Dean would see him in a state that was not safe for work – or as Dean liked to call it, nsfw) or not to appear at all. Both ways made absolutely sure that Dean would never know that Cas might or might not be getting off by something that Dean probably considered normal, not arousing.
It most certainly was not stirring or provoking for Dean, true, but Castiel found it to be slightly unnerving to stand in a room with someone who could easily arouse him with something as simple as a prayer. (At some point, yes, Cas had to acknowledge just what kind of huge attraction he felt towards Dean; but that did not mean that he wanted Dean to know).
Originally, Cas had been able to somewhat deal with these prayers too, but good God – they grew worse every day. If Dean did not pray, then Castiel just felt empty, kind of. However, if he did, it left Cas in a more frustrated state day by day.
Therefore, he did what he had to do and talked with Dean about it – he could only take this much before it was unbearable. It felt wrong not to tell Dean why he needed to stop, but honestly, Castiel understood enough about humanity to know that Dean would not really appreciate what Cas could have said about this matter.
However, Cas had just forgotten what a dense idiot Dean could be. He had forgotten how these prayers might have been a big deal for him, but for Dean they were nothing but a way to communicate. He should have been able to predict it, probably; should have seen it coming.
But he did not.
It caught him completely off guard.
Hiya, Cas. Sorry, again, ‘bout the thing with the prayers. You should’ve told me before that it’s painful for you. Next time I’m praying it’ll be Michael, I promise! That bag of dicks deserves it!
Castiel, Angel of Thursday, flinched because of all these emotions clawing at him.
There was that undeniable pleasure and euphoria, arousing him even more so as usual. The kind of devotion that Dean sent with these words – it was such a strong faith, he was not sure he had ever felt it in another human before; and it was directed towards him. Instantly, he felt possessive, proud, and faintly amused because oh, you are praying right now, Dean, how can you not realise that?
Then, another feeling hit him and he could not shake that one off:
Scorching hot jealousy (overprotectiveness, he corrected) and the kind of greed that he was not supposed to feel, period.
The thought alone that Dean might be praying just then and that he might be directing it at Michael, not at himself.
Castiel tensed. No.
Covetousness or simple desire – he still was not sure which of both made him decide that he would intervene. Nevertheless, it was tremendously strong and suddenly, Cas found himself a mere metre away from Dean who just stared at him, befuddled.
“Uhm, hey, Cas…?” He finally greeted his friend, confused.
“Hello, Dean,” Cas greeted right back, looking around in slight confusion, before he added; “You are not praying right now, are you?”
“No. Should I?” Dean answered, confused, then he understood. “Oh, you wanna kick Michael’s ass through praying, huh? Yeah, guessed that my idea was pretty awesome!”
Castiel very fiercely shook his head, growling. “No, Dean. You will not do that.”
The Winchester stared at his companion, confused and maybe a little shocked because Cas was looking like he was going to have Michael’s head on a fucking silver plate if Dean prayed to him.
This was… Well. Perhaps a tiny little bit hot (not that Dean was about to admit that), but definitely too weird. Even for Cas.
“Okay, dude. What the fuck. I get that he’s your brother and shit – but he wanted to be inside of me, okay. And if I think that he fucking deserves the headache, then I will cause it.” Which came out about ten times bitchier than Dean had originally intended – but he just wanted Cas to leave the fucking room, so he could think about the fact that he found this remotely hotter with every second passing by.
Big boobs = hot?
Great ass = hot?
Agreed, and Dean would even admit that, if in the mood, that applied for men, too. (Example: Doctor Sexy MD.)
Angry best angel friend = hot?
No, like, never. Uh-uh. Not even because of the way his voice was all growly and rough, or the way his hair looked even more dishevelled than usually, or the way his tie was just loose enough to show off his fucking delicious-looking neck or the fact that his incredibly blue eyes looked just so damn intense when he was like this.
So not arousing.
Anyway, how was he supposed to tell Cas that he would have to leave ASAP, so that Dean could get over this without some kind of, uhm, problem?
This situation was clearly getting out of hand for Dean, as always.
“This has nothing to do with family matters, Dean,” Cas replied, staring intently at Dean who stared right back, “In all honesty, prayers do not cause us angels any harm, so your attempt to hurt him would be futile.”
“Oh…” Dean mumbled in reply, confused. Then why the Hell did you want me to stop, you dickhead?
“Because it causes some discomfort, after all.” Dean cursed himself for speaking while thinking. One of the many reasons as to why Sam was the one who came across as much smarter.
“What kind of discomfort, exactly?” He inquired, a little nonplussed; no headaches, no physical harm… What was Cas’ reason to forbid Dean the prayers?
Castiel just shook his head; seemingly amused that Dean did not figure it out by now.
“Sometimes, Dean, you truly are fatuous, I am sorry to say.”
He nodded, absentmindedly, wondering just what Cas’ reason could be.
“Hey! Did you just call me stupid?!”
Cas chuckled, fond voice answering, “Indeed – however, that is only an occasional trait of yours.”
Dean blinked, not sure whether he should be angered or not. Then, his eyes widened, “Wait— that means it’s so easy that I should realise what you mean, yes? So I could easily guess it?”
“Yes. Even you should be able to deduce it, Dean.” He shook his head at Cas’ cynic comment (the dude sure had a problem with humour, but sarcasm and cynicism seemed to work just perfectly for Cas) and pointedly ignored it. He did not wish to spat back something polemic – that would only start fights; and he just really wanted to know why Cas insisted that he never prayed again if it did not hurt him, per se.
“Well, okay. So you say it’s causing discomfort. But not, like, physical shit?”
Castiel sighed, knowing that he was about to make a decision that could change everything.
However, he did not have much of a choice – he had known since that sharp moment of stinging jealousy that he at least had to try to make a claim on Dean. It was the least he could do, even though he doubted that Dean would want him to.
In addition, Dean did deserve the truth, concerning the prayers.
“I would love to agree to that, albeit it is not true. Part of the ordeal is very physical. Mostly, it is emotional, though.”
“Emotional? Do you guys feel what the praying person feels, then?”
“It is not like that, no,” Cas disagreed, before sighing and deciding to just tell Dean. “Most people pray to Father, or general Heaven. Some people pray to all of the Angels, or one of the Archangels. When a person prays to a minor angel, like me, addressing them directly… It causes us to be very… euphoric.”
Dean slowly nodded, taking the information in. “So you felt good when I prayed to you a few weeks ago? Happy mood, as if drunk?”
“No, Dean. You do not get it. A prayer is a wish made with the intentions to reach one of us. So, basically, you prayed at least 34 times during the last seven weeks.” (Not ‘at least’ – that was the very exact number, Cas would know.)
“Wait, that counts as prayer?” Before Cas could even think of an answer, Dean continued, “And why would you want me to stop if it’s such a nice feeling? I mean, I would treasure every piece of unreasonable happiness around here.”
“Physical, Dean. We react very euphoric when it comes to the physical aspect of being ‘happy’, also.”
“And when you say ‘happy’, you mean ‘aroused’?” As Cas nodded, Dean flinched. “Gah, okay, I so won’t pray to Michael then, yuck.”
Then, his eyes went as round as plates.
“Stop. Rewind. You nod all casual, but does that mean when I flung my prayers towards you…” Dean trailed off, awkwardly staring at his best friend. Cas nodded once again, and Dean paled considerably.
Embarrassed, Dean mumbled, “You should’ve told me, Cas, then I would’ve stopped.”
“Would you have appreciated it if I had talked with you about this before?” Cas inquired, sceptical – because he knew that Dean hated awkward situations, even if Castiel did not mind them half the time (they usually gave him a good excuse to just get lost in Dean’s eyes, trying to sneak a second look at the beautiful soul that he had been allowed to fix).
“I mean, it’s less awkward than knowing that I kinda gave you a boner every time I ‘prayed’,” Was the reply, complete with eye-roll and all. “’S kinda weird to get to know something like that after, what, thirty times of doing it?”
“Thirty-four,” Cas corrected immediately, making Dean avert his eyes for a few seconds, before locking them with Cas’ again. “And a half, counting today.”
“Ugh, yeah, sorry ‘bout today. And those other 34 times,” He replied, sheepishly. “Wasn’t my intention to get you all sexually frustrated. You okay?”
“I am alive and breathing, Dean. This is nothing I could not deal with.” Said Cas, absolutely levelled and nonchalant.
“Right. So you can forgive me?” Castiel nodded in reply, cocking his head at Dean’s failed attempt at not sounding nervous. “Great. So. Not gonna pray again, now that I know. I’ll also tell Sam to refrain from praying to you.”
Cas looked deep in thought, and Dean thought that shit, maybe his crappy excuse did not cut the deal.
“I swear by Heaven and Hell, we had no clue! If Sam and I had known,” Dean immediately felt a strange angry possessiveness in his gut as he remembered that Sam indeed had prayed a lot during these months without Dean. However, he decided to ignore the clawing feeling and told himself that it must be the stress or something. “We would never have done it, had we known – “
“You do realise that you begin to repeat yourself, Dean? There is no need to tell Sam, either way,” Dean sent Cas a confused glare, wondering the next second why this made him so angry anyway – so what if Cas enjoyed getting a boner because of Sam but did not like it when it was Dean? Maybe he had the hots for Sam, and shouldn’t Dean be supportive and shit? Again, this weird feeling inside of him. He pushed it away. “He has moved on to pray to another angel, as far as I have gathered.”
Dean looked immediately relieved, but if Cas caught that look, he did not comment on it.
“He is now regularly praying to Gabriel, I think.”
Suddenly, Dean could not help but laugh loudly.
It made Castiel smile (Dean just looked so beautiful when he was laughing), even though he did not get the joke, period.
“Sam’s got a weird taste in men if he prays to the dwarf,” Dean said, still grinning, still so, so relieved that Sam’s taste was just so fucked up that he’d ignore a Castiel in order to have a Gabriel. “Instead of you.”
“Thank you, Dean, that is a nice thing to say, considering how Gabriel is far more powerful than I am. I am, after all, nothing but a soldier.”
“Don’t say that, Cas. I mean, you’re a fucking awesome soldier, and totally kickass. Plus, you’re smarter, hotter and just better than Gabriel might ever be,” Then, Dean added as if on afterthought, “And you’re my best friend. Part of the family. I would prefer you over trickster archangels any day.”
“You trust me.” Cas pointed out, and Dean could not help snorting. Sure, he held a fucking speech about Cas’ awesomeness, and he decided to talk about the embarrassing one that Dean would have preferred not to talk about.
“Duh. Don’t make me say it, man. Would be hard not to trust you after all we’ve been through together.”
“I see,” He answered, slowly, considering. “In that case, Dean, I am very sorry. I do not deserve any of the trust you give me so freely. I am a horrible best friend, please forgive me.”
That sounded so honest that it threw Dean off completely. Just what the hell could have happened that would make Cas think that?
“Hey, Cas, seriously, what’s up? What happened?”
“For more than half of this talk I have had impure thoughts, which made me forget that before everything else – before my own selfish desires – I should be a friend. I am sorry that I so obviously neglected that, even though you trust me so much, Dean.”
“Impure thought…?” Dean pondered, confused.
Why would Cas have…?
Yeah, right. Sexually frustrated angel man was still a man. With needs and all that jazz.
Sure, Dean could help with that. He knew the best strip bars in a radius of fifty kilometres – he had been in this area countless times before, since it was kinda like a monster (specifically vampire) hotspots. Nevertheless, the food was good, the girls pretty and the alcohol decent, so Dean did not mind being around here so often.
“Cas! Why didn’t you say anything sooner, seriously? I could have helped you out with the sexual frustration an hour ago, had you said something,” At Cas’ shocked expression, Dean said, “Yeah, you call that shit communication. Very human stuff, but not that difficult to do.”
(Unless you are a Winchester. Well, Cas kinda was part of the family…)
“You would have?” Dean nodded eagerly, and Castiel looked even further stunned. “But why?”
“Because frankly, Cas, I really happen to like you, this is my entire fault to begin with and… Yeah, remember what I said? You’re not gonna die a virgin, on my watch. I promised. I keep promises.”
“I did not think that you meant that particular promise. You made it, after all, when you thought I was surely dying that night,” Did Cas just seriously try to talk Dean out of this? As if! “Plus, I do not want to make you feel compelled to do this for me just because it is your ‘fault’. I am not completely without a fault concerning this, either.”
“Cas, hush. Don’t try to talk me outta this. You want this, I want this, so what’s speaking against it? Some fun never killed anyone.”
(Apart from these college girls that were devoured by Wendigoes a few months ago. Well, they shouldshould have known better than going camping in a presumably hunted forest.)
Except that Dean did not like the thought of giving Cas money so some half-clad girls with daddy issues could seduce him. Then again, how could he seriously tell him to just stay here if Dean was causing every problem, anyway?
Moreover, maybe some flashes of thigh would stop him going all my-best-friend-looks-hot-when-angry. This was just weird. (Not because there was no attraction towards men – Dean was pretty open. But this was his best friend, damn it. An Angel of the Lord. )
Cas seemed to consider Dean’s words, and stared at him – Dean met his gaze evenly, not backing down or saying that the idea was not that great after all.
“I do believe that you are right, Dean. But there is a problem in your plan, as I perceive it.”
Dean blinked, confused. There was?
“Okay, then what is the problem with my pretty fucking awesome plan?”
Then, a fond smile appeared on Cas face, and he swiftly came closer and closer; Dean actually tried to take a step back, instinctively, but his back hit the wall. He felt caged and panicked for a mere second before he remembered, yeah, Cas, problems with personal space and shit, and he simply relaxed, which prompted another smile on Cas’ handsome face. What, handsome? No, no. Dean, stop gaying around when you’re talking about going to a strip club, damn it.
“The problem is,” Cas said, voice all rough and sexy and Dean realised that Cas was so fucking close; he could feel the other’s hot breath on his slightly flushed skin. How come he had never appreciated the perfect height difference? If he lent down just like that, he would comfortably reach Cas’ pale but full lips – just what kind of colour would they be if Dan were to kiss them bruised, he wondered. Then, he shook himself; no. Best friends, damn it. How could his brain not get the message? “That I do not wish to have some ‘fun’ and be done with it, Dean. I want something lasting.”
Dean felt his throat go dry. Cas wanted to find a stripper and live with her happily ever after. What the fuck.
Stop it, mind. He’s my friend. He doesn’t even like me that way!
“Ah, I, uhm, I see,” Dean croaked, before coughing and going on in a more normal but still somewhat scratchy voice. “Shouldn’t be a problem, I think. I mean, everyone who knows you would be happy to be with you. Guess the angel thingy might kinda suck for most relationships, though... I mean, unless the other person was a hunter, duh.”
Cas chuckled, amused.
Well, the joke was lost on Dean.
Did Cas seriously think he would find a stripper hunter hanging around in a bar waiting for an angel to run into the sunset with?
“I am certainly glad that we agree on that, then,” Castiel said, smirking. Smirking. Wow, shit. That was somewhat arousing. Minimally. Almost not at all. Why did this feel so much like denial, though? “In that case, I have no objections concerning your plan.”
Dean was about to say that they should get moving, then.
However, before he could possibly get the words out, Cas had completely pressed him against the wall, inhuman strength and all, making Dean realise that they had not been on the same page.
Okay. Okay. Do not freak out, Dean.
Dean forced himself to inhale calmly through his nose.
You’ve had guy-on-guy action before. Calm the fuck down, dude.
He, also forcibly, exhaled through his mouth, trying to calm his nerves.
This should not be this arousing, should it?
Strangely enough, this inhale-exhale thing did not work, at all.
If anything, it made Cas’ stare it him even more intensive – and that would not calm Dean, period.
Oh fuck it, who needs reasoning.
Dean met Cas’ gaze evenly, trying to understand the other’s intentions.
Just let him have his way.
He gave up on it, though – because he could find no malice, just curiosity and something else. Something he wanted to learn more about as soon as he could.
You really are into this, anyway.
Because Cas is just so damn tempting, luring him in without even trying, just like he always did.
Plus, haven’t you been thinking about this for a while now? Roll with it.
His thoughts were swirling around in that fashion and he tried to think of a reason to stop this. He could think of so, so many, but they did not seem to matter anyway.
Cas was going to kiss him and he would enjoy it. Fucking take his pleasures where he would get them.
Then, there was only one thought in his head, screaming and kicking, making Dean’s body move by its own accord.
Why are you not kissing him yet, idiot?
Dean could not have agreed more with his own thoughts, honestly.
He decided to get closer to Cas’ pale lips (and, God, he had been right when he had thought that their height difference was ideal), stopping when there were mere millimetres of distance between them.
Searchingly, he stared into the endless blue that was Castiel; he was not so sure what it was that he was looking for, but when he found it, he smiled and closed the gap. (Or was it Cas who did? It was honestly just a blur whenever Dean tried to remember later on.)
At first, Dean could not help but think that this was so weird, knowing that he was basically fucking his and Cas’ friendship up for good. Somehow, though, Cas’ reciprocation of the kiss they were sharing told him that they would figure it out, eventually.
Dean was not going to run away from the consequences, and neither was Cas.
They would be okay.
And that was all that Dean needed to know before he decided that if he was going to kiss Cas then he would do it properly, not just this coy, close-mouthed shit. (Even if that was overwhelmingly pleasuring already.) Because seriously; if Cas realised just how unworthy of his attention Dean was, he might never get the chance to kiss him again, right?
Even though Cas had him practically pressed against a wall, their kiss was chaste, sweet, and loving – and so many other things Dean thought he really did not deserve. Dean seriously found Cas’ chivalrous behaviour impressive because fuck, Dean had not been the one with 34 times of cock-block and he wanted their pace to quicken one freaking minute ago.
That’s it, Dean thought before placing his hands on either side of Cas’ face, pulling them even closer together, not one single molecule between them. It still was not close enough, he realised, and he needed to feel Cas everywhere.
Slowly, but urgently, Dean trailed his tongue along Cas’ lips, trying to pry them open. He feared for a second that Cas might not get what that was supposed to mean, but the angel eventually opened his mouth with a contended sigh that Dean was happy to swallow with his own mouth.
Dean let his hands trail from Cas’ face down his neck, settling on the other’s chest, sliding off the tan trench coat with almost shaking hand. He probably should not be that excited, or this nervous, so early.
Nevertheless, this, this was a big thing, and damn it if he could not be excused for being shaky due to that.
He found it vaguely comically that it was Cas who held him pinned to the wall, and yet it was Dean who initiated the mouth fucking, the undressing, the roaming and exploring.
That was, until Cas slowly started to not just dance along with Dean’s tongue, but to vigorously fight it so that he could explore Dean’s hot and wet cavern.
It was not all that often that Dean was being dominated, but he found that it was rather arousing when Cas did it. Even if his angel was (presumably) a virgin and he should not know how to do any of this.
Then again, Dean figured, Cas had waited a while before responding actively, aggressively. Was he that fast of a learner? Well, Dean was not going to complain about that, so much was certain.
His fingers swiftly opened Cas’ dress shirt – leaving the tie in place (so yeah, maybe he liked that thing more than he should) –, tugging it out of his slacks, then trying to remove it even though Cas actually did not seem to plan on letting go of Dean another time like he had when Dean removed the trench coat before.
The mean thing about it was that he figured that Cas would be perfectly able to just mojo these annoying clothes off. Why didn’t he?
Dean’s eyes widened, considerably. Oh, okay. All right.
Cas liked this – the act of undressing?
Yeah, he could most certainly work with this kink.
Dean pulled away (to catch his breath as much as to complain about Cas’ apparent unwillingness to strip out of his clothing), and he just grunted, “Damn it, Cas, could you just let me remove your fucking – “
The sentence died before it was even fully formulated; because whatever Cas was seeing right now, it caused his gaze to darken a few shades with what Dean identified quite clearly as lust. ,, ,,
Eyes never leaving Dean’s, Cas removed the white button-down, before his arms caged Dean again, trapping him against the wall effectively.
Instinct told him that he should get the fuck out of there – being trapped was not good, it was outright dangerous. Nevertheless, the fact that he found this arousing kinda clouded his proper comprehension. (Not to mention that he really did trust Cas not to take more advantage of this situation than Dean absolutely wanted him to.)
“Dean,” Castiel finally said, sounding rougher and even more sonorous than usually. He leant in, lips levelling with Dean’s earlobe. “I do know about the mechanics of intercourse, but I am not quite certain that I will know how to correctly perform it – so if you would be as kind as to tell me should I do something unfitting.”
Dean nodded, crooking a smile, “I can do that. But you too, yeah? I mean, I wanna make you feel good, too.”
“Certainly, Dean.” Cas replied, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, before he leant back again to take in Dean’s appearance; complete with the subtle blush dusting cheeks and nose (highlighting the countless faint freckles) and his swollen and bruised lips. To say he liked this view was the understatement of the year, it would seem.
For a moment, Cas had some kind of internal struggle that he then quickly overcame; and with a somewhat predatory smirk, he swiftly freed Dean of his jacket, then his button-down and then his shirt (Dean never in his life had regretted all of these layers before).
Inhaling was only managed very shakily, and Dean cursed himself for that. Then again, the feeling of Cas’ icy fingers on his scalding chest probably would have caused that under normal circumstances too. (Though Dean did know that, yes, his body was reacting very positively to everything that was Cas, so he could not blame it entirely on the difference in temperature. Of course, that did not mean that he could not try to justify it in that manner.)
Slowly, Cas let his fingertips brush against Dean’s skin, mirroring what Dean had done to his chest before, only that Cas seemed so much more in awe. As if he was the mere human allowed to touch an Angel of the Lord, and not the other way round.
For a second, all that Dean could think was that Cas just made him feel so precious, reassured and loved. That thought alone elicited a rumbling moan on Dean’s behalf, one that he chastised himself for a mere moment later; he did not intend to moan or groan before they were even getting started on the action!
He looked up to meet Cas’ eyes, to say sorry for being so, um, excited already, but immediately stilled. A glint gave these immensely blue orbs a hue that Dean had never before spotted in them, not even when Cas had looked at him with so much lust before. It was more than lust, or maybe just a shade of lust, reflecting in Cas’ unguarded eyes – even though he usually made sure to avoid having Dean see every reflection of feelings. He was exposed to Dean in the same fashion in which Dean had exposed his very feelings to Cas with his unabashed moan.
“Dean,” Cas was actually panting, which in itself made Dean shiver in excitement. “May I claim you with erythema in the form of so-called hickeys?”
It took a second for Dean to understand the term ‘erythema’ (you cannot really blame him, can you? His brain was still fuzzy from all the sexy time going on) and he cursed Cas’ extensive knowledge of confusing words for a second, before he registered, oh, yeah, hickeys. Then, his mind began twiddling because had Cas just said claiming?
Now that was some hot kinky stuff.
Dean was all up for that, to say the least.
“Sure, you go ahead with the love bites, as long as I get to do some claiming, too,” He finally answered, delighting in the fact that Cas already got started on the first love bite (and to say that Cas’ hot and wet tongue on his collar bone did not give him slight arrhythmia would have been a complete lie). “I mean, gotta make sure this perky little angel doesn’t fly off any time soon, yeah?”
And even Dean himself could hear the faint pleading when he proposed that question and he wondered where the fuck that had come from, because he sure as Hell had not meant to say that aloud. Cas just had always had a way to get his true feelings out of him without even trying.
Now, that left Dean with the crappy feeling of what-will-he-say. While he was definitely afraid of being used and then left behind, he might just have been even more afraid of rejection. Because rejection just sucked.
“I will not leave you, Dean,” Castiel answered, knowing instinctively that what sounded like teasing was a rather pressing matter for Dean. He halted all of his actions so that he could gently embrace Dean, who automatically returned it, burying his nose in the crook of Cas’ neck (and yeah, he will never admit that he did that). “For wherever I may go, it will be no good without you.”
That left Dean speechless for a few seconds, before he bit his lip anxiously (and he so did not blush, alright), “Yeah. Same.”
Even though he hated chick flick moments, he deemed this one worth it because of the grateful smile that appeared on Cas’ face once the words left Dean’s mouth. He also cracked a smile, before he then urged, “So I can leave hickeys?”
“Yes, Dean, I think I would very much enjoy being claimed by you.”
There it was again. Claimed. Dean shuddered, but it was definitely the most positive shudder in all history of humanity.
Cas definitely did not need to ask twice for that kind of favour; Dean decided to just begin where his nose was already buried anyways – Cas’ throat. Immediately, Dean began to kiss and suck on that particular part of Cas, just above the ultramarine coloured tie that probably would not come off any time soon (okay so this was going to be a kink from now on).
The response was a sound caught between sigh and moan, and Dean felt that he could listen to this sound for the rest of his life, again and again and again. Because he particularly liked that sound, he tried to trigger it again, sucking harder, even biting down a little. When Dean felt it begin to pulse, he let go, taking a moment to admire the little piece of art that he just left.
It was red, raw, delicate, and utterly perfect. Slowly, he let his tongue sweep over it, relishing in Cas’ groan.
Dean then let go of Castiel, trying to step away. That made Cas tense immediately, and the Angel had him pressed again the wall again, “Dean?”
The question was asked in a tone that was as confused as it was scared, and it probably would have broken Dean’s heart into tiny little pieces if he had not known how unneeded the confusion and fear were.
“Cas, jeez, hold your horses,” Dean said, reassuringly. “I was just about to drag you the few metres to the bed, unless you’d rather take me against the wall – which might be hot but leave me with some horrible back aches tomorrow and nope, don’t want that right now.”
To accentuate his point, he grabbed Cas’ wrist (because let’s face it, holding hands now would have destroyed the last manliness that Dean felt he had left), trying to steer them towards the bed.
Dragging Cas there did not work until the Angel understood that Dean was not regretting any of this, that he just wanted them to go further. Then, he just relaxed and let Dean drag him towards the (thankfully) twin-sized bed.
(For a second, Dean was a little stunned because just why had Sam insisted on the twin-sized thing and the separate rooms? Did he somehow know…?
Nah, really, that was a ridiculous thought. He should simply be thankful that Sammy had a generous day, insisting on separated rooms and large beds, because otherwise this all might have been more awkward and complicated.)
Dean sat down on the bed, stance relaxed and maybe a bit too casual to match the situation. Cas remained standing for a few seconds, and Dean couldn’t help but wonder when the day had started taking strange turns. (After all, he was in a room with his best friend, both of them shirtless and desperate.)
With clever fingers, Dean undid Cas’ belt (might as well take advantage of this particular height difference) and slid down the angel’s slacks. He was about to slide down Cas’ boxer briefs, too, but had to still because Cas’ hands carefully pushed Dean’s away.
Cas then stepped out of his slacks and also removed shoes and socks as if there was no horny Winchester a few centimetres away from him. Dean would probably have been slightly angry, if it had not been such an awkwardly domestic move from Cas to also slowly remove Dean’s own boots and socks.
Then, Cas finally joined him on the bed, sitting down next to Dean, locking eyes with him and tilting his head, as if asking, what now?
There were exactly two ways this could go, Dean knew that much from past experience. And it would be hella awkward to explain.
“Y’see, Cas, generally this works like this: one of us will –” Dean began to explain, but Cas interrupted him before he could come very far. (And thank God, because what is more awkward then explaining someone how you’d like to fuck them, and in what position while both of you already sported a hard-on?)
“Dean. I do know about the mechanics of this. We Angels have been watching over this planet since Utopian times, and two men having a sexual relationship is not an invention of the new millennia. I was about to ask, however, which way you would like to go about this.”
He exhaled, somewhat grateful that while Cas might have been virgin, he at least was not completely clueless. There was nothing more embarrassing then deflowering someone who had no clue what the Hell they were doing.
“Cas, we’re both pretty horny by now, and I just really don’t give a shit about which one of us fucks the other’s brains out, as long as it happens fast.”
Dean could see Cas’ confusion at the bold statement, and for a moment, he wondered whether he had been a little too bold. He immediately knew that that was not really an option, because Cas suddenly had this very predatory smirk on his face; one that might have shocked Dean any other time – but right now, it only fuelled anticipation as well as frustration.
He was actually about to make a retort, about to ask whether Cas could just make up his mind already so that they could get a move on, when he suddenly found Cas on top of him, pinning him down effectively.
“I guess that’s the answer, then?” Dean inquired, a little humoured that Cas was so confidently taking the lead if this was actually his first time; then again, Cas had implied that he had seen a lot of this, so Dean really did not have it in him to protest.
“Yes. I hope you are alright with this.” It was rather a statement than a question, because Castiel could literally feel Dean excitement. Pressing against Dean’s jeans in an almost painful, throbbing manner. Cas decided to take some pity on Dean’s predicament, and removed his jeans, so that both of them only had their underwear in place.
Almost fondly, Cas began to trail kisses along Dean’s collarbone, his chest, his abdomen. It was chaste and sweet, and Dean could not help but wonder when he deserved to have someone as caring as Cas in his life.
Dean let out a keening sound as Cas’ lips caressed the mark on his shoulder, and that’s when Dean decided to man up and get down to business lest he loose himself in these caresses like some teenage girl.
“Cas,” Dean finally interrupted the Angel. “Could you just go fucking faster? I’m seriously getting impatient.”
With a small faintly disapproving sound, Castiel sat up, looking at Dean pointedly.
“Yeah, I get it, cock-blocked so often, you should be allowed to do whatever. Later, okay? I just really would like you to fuck me into oblivion, because there’s more UST hanging around the two of us than I can stand right now.”
Dean’s proposition of ‘later’ seemed to appeal to Cas, too, because in the blink of an eye, their underwear was removed (bless Angel mojo) and Cas ground his hips experimentally into Dean’s.
They both groaned, as their bare flesh met for the first time. Cas’ expression was most infuriating, Dean noted, as he seemed torn apart by pleasure but there was also a calculating glimmer in his eyes; Cas was mentally filing his movements, memorizing what made who react how.
Somehow, Dean found it very appealing that Cas was filing things for future reference, as it implied that this would not be a one time thing. Dean very much wanted this to be more than that.
Much more. Even much more than he would ever admit to himself.
However, as Cas’ hand trailed down to Dean’s backside, one major problem occurred to Dean. He had not been with a man for at least three year, he would need preparation. And he had no lube nearby (because seriously, who could see something like this happening?).
“Cas,” Dean voiced his concern; trying to supress a groan as Cas’ other hand began slowly, curiously stroking Dean’s boner. “Problem. I’ve got no lube around here.”
For a moment, Cas stilled his movements, probably wondering where the problem was. Dean was about to launch into explanation as to why lube was a must have, when Cas simply made some appear on the night table.
This might come in handy a lot more often from now on.
“Ah, right, okay. I forgot that you can do that,” Dean waved dismissively. “In that case, we might as well go on.”
To accentuate his point, Dean slid his hands around Cas’ neck and pulled him down for an open-mouthed kiss that went for as long as Dean could life without inhaling.
Cas, unperturbed, carried on his task of collecting information on Dean’s body. And his reactions, which Cas himself found very appealing.
Taking Dean’s “might as well go on” as his permission, he sat up lazily, not really wanting to separate his body from Dean’s, and reached for the lube. As he coated his fingers with it, he searched Dean’s face for any signs of regret, for any signs that he wanted to back out; but he only found lust and arousal and some tenderness that made Cas gasp for a second, completely still in awe.
Then Dean took the liberty to thrust his hips up and whine that Cas should just fucking do it already and Cas obliged, gladly.
The first finger turned out to be not so much of a problem, as Dean might haven’t done it in a while this way, but he had done it before. That did not mean that Cas would not take his time, carefully mapping Dean’s inside with his finger, probing and touching. Dean found it un-fucking-believable that Cas would be so in awe about literally everything that concerned Dean’s body. He had to remind himself several times that this was Cas’ first time to keep himself from screaming at him to fucking find a quicker pace.
His second finger went in with little difficult as well, and Cas as well as Dean relished in the new depths Castiel now could reach. It made Dean gloat with anticipation as he thought that the fingers would be replaced by something thicker, larger, soon.
As he finally had three fingers in, Castiel began to carefully curl his fingers, slowly moving them in and out, adjusting Dean to the motion gently. (Well, until Dean practically yelled at him to stop being such a chicken; then Cas sped up considerably, enjoying the way Dean arched into his touch as he trailed his other hand rhythmically up and down Dean’s length.)
Castiel decided that it was time for him to enter as he found Dean’s swelled prostate and the man moaned Cas’ name long and loud. They both had figured that neither of them would last long, due to unresolved sexual tension and the long wait they had endured. But that was more than just okay, for either of them.
Lube now covered Cas’ hardness, and he placed his tip at Dean’s entrance, slowly sinking in, not able to stifle his moan as he did so. They were still for a few seconds, as Dean tried to get used to the feeling of Cas inside of him.
It hurt him, a lot, but Dean knew from experience that he would be all right once pain subsided and pleasure took over. He motioned for Cas to move (the poor guy looked like he was about to burst, otherwise) and just trailed his own hands around the parts of his body that he knew were particularly sensitive, also quite enjoying the way Cas grip had tightened on his hips.
Finally, Dean felt a familiar and comforting prickling sensation, and he knew that now, he would be able to enjoy this, too.
“C’mon, Cas, you can go faster now.” Dean croaked, panting, dearly enjoying Cas’ expression, for an aroused Cas was a sight to behold; hair dishevelled, pupils blown wide, lips open, releasing quiet gasps and moans.
Cas simply nodded, increasing the speed of his thrusts, and Dean now made sure to meet him. Then, Cas found that spot again, and Dean finally lost his shit for real.
He threw all of his restrictions over boards, gasping and panting and moaning Cas’ name repeatedly, as Cas found the angle that would hit Dean’s spot not just when going in but also when going out. Dean could feel that he was close, and he let Cas know that, audibly.
Turns out that Cas really appreciated Dean’s vocal eruptions, because he finally could not hold it anymore, and a shooting sensation pulsed through his cock, as he finally came inside Dean, Dean’s name on his lips.
Dean quickly followed Cas, stroking himself once or twice before orgasm hit him, too, and he gutturally moaned “Cas!” before a sensation took over him that was so beyond words and comprehension that Dean needed a few seconds to think straight again.
The two of them just laid there for a minute, Cas still inside of Dean, too spent to move, his vessel completely out of energy. Only when Dean nudged his side, he pulled out and laid down next to Dean rather than on top of him. They were still gasping and panting, still trying to understand just what a huge deal this was, just what would change, now.
Lazily, Dean draped his arm across Cas’ abdomen, cuddling up to him.
“Was that up to your standards, Dean?” Cas inquired, somewhat teasingly.
“More than that, Cas,” Dean stated, grinning. “Though, to be able to say for sure, we should try again. Might have been luck tonight.”
“I can only agree to that. Not to mention that you owe me another 34 times.”
“What, that only counted as a half?” Dean inquired, trying to sound scandalized despite his fuzzy and tired mind.
Cas chose to stay silent, just smiling at Dean fondly, as if to say, at least you are my little idiot.
“Oh, and Cas,” Dean spoke up, sleepily but urgently. Cas looked at Dean intently. “Never tell Sam that I voluntarily cuddled with you. I’d never hear the end of it.”
With that, Dean drifted off. Cas just stared at him a little longer, thumb gently trailing Dean’s face.
Dean Winchester was not the only one who had found new faith despite the circumstances, that much was for sure.