![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annundrielPatterns of Experience
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4475
Post-season four. The pattern was set the first two times they had sex. Changing it was only a matter of time.
I owe many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ginnith who not only helped me with editing (showing incredible patience), but also let me ramble at her forever about the characters. ♥
Castiel pins Dean to the bed, not with hands or body or even his freaky angel mojo, but with a look. Just one, and Dean can’t move, doesn’t want to. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if this is what a mouse feels like just before a snake strikes. He disregards that thought quickly though because Cas definitely isn’t there to hurt him and Dean definitely wants him to strike. Especially if striking means sex. Dean’s pretty sure it does, given the fact that they’re both naked.
Dean’s not actually sure when they lost their clothes. He remembers…well. He remembers walking across the street with Sam to the diner on the corner for dinner, Sam still a little stiff beside him but slowly working at forgiving himself for almost ending the world. They’d slid into a booth and ordered their food, talked and ate while Dean ogled a waitress or two and Sam searched the internet for signs of their usual, everyday evil to hunt.
Dean had been appreciating a particularly fine pair of legs when he heard the faint sound of wings and turned to find Castiel sitting next to him in the booth, tucked between Dean and the window like he belonged there. He was frowning. Busted, Dean remembered thinking.
Sam looked up briefly from his laptop. “Hey, Cas.”
“Hello, Sam. Dean.” It was only because Dean knew him so well that he caught the underlying tone, the gravel that meant, I have seen your thoughts and they displease me, and did his best to suppress a shudder.
“Hey,” Dean said. “What brings you to our little neck of the woods? Not another apocalypse already?”
“I wish to speak with you privately, Dean.”
“Ooo-kay.” He ignored the way his heart quickened at the look Castiel gave him. “You gonna be okay here, Sammy?”
Dean hadn’t been looking, but he was sure Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dean. I’m good. You two go have fun now. I’ll make sure to knock extra loud.”
That had gotten his attention. He’d gaped at Sam a little as he slid out of his seat and waited for Castiel to follow. Sam had just smirked at him, unrepentant and knowing.
Dean absolutely had not blushed.
He remembered leaving the diner, walking back to the motel, unlocking the door. He remembered stepping aside so Castiel could enter first, shutting the door behind him, tossing the key on the nearby table.
Dean didn’t remember Castiel moving, but suddenly Dean had been pressed against the door, breath knocked abruptly out of him.
“I would prefer it if you would not act solely on your base animal instincts.”
Heh. Cas was jealous. “You would prefer it, huh?” Dean asked, smirking.
“Yes, Dean, I would prefer it.”
Which…hadn’t been what Dean had been expecting, not really. He’d expected Castiel to push him, demand that Dean stop lusting after anything attractive on two legs. Maybe tell him it was a sin, though that would be a little ironic given the circumstances. But there was a tone to Castiel’s voice, something in his eyes that gave Dean pause. Cas was jealous, sure, jealous because Dean was his, but he wasn’t going to make Dean do anything. Dean understood. A choice was a choice; it meant more if made freely.
Dean looked at Castiel standing before him, felt the cheap wood of the motel door against his back, Castiel’s hands secure on his arms, Cas’s face so serious and open.
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Okay.”
He didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas smile like that before, wide and happy, and in that moment Dean was sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“Good,” Castiel had said, leaning in, mouth closing on Dean’s.
That’s when Dean lost track of time.
Somewhere between then and now, clothing was removed. Dean’s not sure if it’s strewn about the room or if Castiel just made it disappear. It could be either. He can’t see much from his position on the bed, flat on his back, head propped up by pillows, and even if he could, Dean doesn’t want to look away from Castiel.
He stands at the end of the bed and it’s the first time Dean’s ever seen him completely naked. Before—first with the seals and Sam and then with Lucifer and the apocalypse—before there’d been no time.
Sam left the lamp by his bed on before they went out, filling the room with a dim, warm light filtered through the shade. Castiel’s body, which Dean stopped thinking of as Jimmy’s a long time ago, is cast in light and shadow, lit muscles and dark planes. He looks otherworldly and familiar, human and powerful. Dean wants him closer, wants to touch and feel every part of him.
“You gonna stand there all night? I don’t think Sam will appreciate being kicked out of his room for that long,” Dean says, leaning up on his elbows. Cas’s eyes follow the movement and Dean can practically feel the way they move from his face to his shoulders, his chest, down his stomach, over his dick and thighs, down the length of his legs to his feet.
When Castiel meets his eyes again, he’s smirking a little. “I’m just,” he pauses and, holy shit, licks his bottom lip, “enjoying the view.”
Dean swallows hard. “You could, uh, take a picture. It’d last longer.”
Castiel looks away briefly, mouth quirking slightly into a grin, before looking back at Dean and moving forward until he’s kneeling on the bed. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he says, crawling forward until he’s propped over Dean, knees bracketing Dean’s thighs. “Or true.”
Sometimes Dean forgets that this is not something Castiel does lightly. And sometimes, when Cas looks at him like that—like Dean is the center of everything; the beginning, middle, and end—he’s overcome by the immensity of it, terrified and amazed that so much is his. And grateful, so fucking grateful for all of it.
The sex has nothing to do with gratitude, though, because that would be wrong. The sex was a surprise, an actual revelation. Dean hadn’t realized he’d even wanted it until it happened.
*
The first time was fast, a frenzy of feeling and emotion—the same ones angels kept claiming not to have and boy, does Dean think that’s a load of shit now—and bodies pressed against a wall covered by truly ugly wallpaper in just another tacky motel. It’s quick and hard, angry and frustrated and out of control. And really fucking hot.
He’d been so angry at Castiel, had wanted to scream and punch and hurt even though it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Would maybe even get him tossed back downstairs. But it’d make Dean feel a little better, even if it was only for that second where fist met face. When all he wanted to do was shout how unfair it was that so much was expected of him and there was so little he could actually do, giving Castiel a black eye, marking him up in some way, felt like a way to prove that Dean Winchester could still affect something.
But things got out of hand. Or, heh, maybe they finally got in hand.
Dean had only meant to push him; instead, he found his hands wrapped around the lapels of Castiel’s coat. He’d shoved him, sure, and Castiel hadn’t even flinched as he hit the wall, which only made Dean’s blood boil more. But then any half-assed plans he might have had to punch Castiel in the face flew right out the window as Dean followed it up with his mouth. A kiss that wasn’t so much a caress as an attack, daring Castiel to feel, demanding him to react.
And he did. Before Dean could really even register, holy shit, I’m kissing Cas, an angel of the freakin’ Lord, not fallen but of the can-smite-you-where-you-stand variety, Castiel moved, pinning Dean to the wall with his hands and mouth and body.
That had been a trip, feeling Castiel’s dick hard against his thigh through the layers of clothing between them. Dean remembered thinking, bizarrely, my angel can go 0 to 60 in no seconds flat, how about yours, before he was distracted by his own surprising possessiveness and Castiel’s hand slipping from his wrist to smooth down Dean’s chest, his stomach, to fit against the heated weight at his groin.
Everything was a blur after that. Hands seeking skin, clothing pushed out of the way, breaths gasped against open mouths.
“You are not incompetent, Dean,” Castiel had said, voice urgent, hands equally so.
Dean pushed away the doubt that was churning in his gut and huffed a laugh against Castiel’s jaw. “Don’t have to tell me that,” he said, tightening his hand around Castiel’s cock, eliciting a groan that sounded a lot like Dean’s name.
After that it didn’t take long at all; Dean was coming, shouting Castiel’s name, Castiel right behind him.
They stayed pressed together for a while—Dean leaning against the wall, Castiel leaning against Dean—as their breathing slowed.
Then Castiel had pulled away, barely even looked at Dean when he said, “I must go,” and left. Up and disappeared, leaving Dean a raw mess of emotion. He felt satisfied, more than he had in a long time. Even though it was only a handjob against a wall, his body still tingled.
But there was also confusion, anger left over from before. Only now it was that much worse. He hated that Castiel could just vanish like that, leaving Dean with the questions and the confusion. And the clean-up. Dean had plans. Sure, those plans had involved violence when they’d first entered the room, but sex was good, too. Sex was great even and Dean could just as easily mark Castiel with a few well placed bruises from his mouth as he could from his fist. He’d have more fun doing it, too. They both would.
Dean used that same fist to hit the wall behind him, ignored the pain that followed. Wondered what the fuck happened now.
“Cas,” Dean muttered, letting his head fall back with a thud against the wall. “You son—”
*
“—of a bitch,” Dean gasps, wrists pressed firmly to the bed, Castiel’s hands wrapped around them.
“Patience—”
“If you say ‘is a virtue,’ so help me, Cas, I will kick your ass.”
“I believe that would be cutting off your nose to spite your face, Dean,” Castiel says, voice warm and amused. “I was only going to tell you I require you to be patient. You’ll get what you want eventually.”
Dean’s an impatient man; he’s never been good with waiting or delayed gratification, but Castiel is like his own immovable object, focus so intense and determined Dean can feel it crackling, sparking against his skin. Dean squirms against his grasp, the rest of Castiel’s body still propped above his, too far away to touch when all Dean wants is to yank him down and feel all that glorious skin against his.
“Patience is overrated,” he finally grits out.
Castiel chuckles. “I think in time you’ll find that to be untrue,” he says, leaning in. His mouth on Dean’s is a tease, a chaste press of lips and a quick, dirty flick of tongue. “Now do not move.” He presses Dean’s wrists against the sheets before removing his hands, sitting back until he’s settled on Dean’s thighs.
Dean wants to move; he wants to run his palms over all of the naked skin before him, slide his fingers through the hair on Castiel’s chest, wrap his hand around Castiel’s cock and make him moan and squirm and feel.
Because Dean hadn’t been sure they were still doing this, that this was still on the table. The war over, the world saved, what was to keep Castiel Earth-bound now? And yet by some miracle, here he is, unfallen. Dean’s own personal angel of the Lord.
Dean plans on taking advantage of that. If only Castiel will let him. Unfortunately, Cas seems determined to drive Dean crazy first, expecting him to stay still when Dean’s gotten so used to fast and hard. That’s the way it’s been between them, fast and hard and messy, the need to touch and taste overcoming them until that’s all there is.
*
The second time was absolutely Castiel’s fault, of this Dean was sure.
Even if Dean was the one pushing him, looking for some sign that what happened in that motel room a couple states over really happened. That it hadn’t been some weird-ass new sex fantasy Dean had picked up due to the surreal turns his already bizarro life had taken. Because that would just take the fucking cake, especially if he ended up back in Hell for fantasizing about the very being that pulled him out of it.
If that was how this was going to go down, Dean wanted the actual experience. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Only Dean was definitely going to make sure they did.
They had seen each other twice since that encounter, each time Castiel remaining the angel they’d all come to know and…well, know anyway. Collected, business-like. Unruffled. And, God, Dean wanted to ruffle him up a little. Or a lot, he wasn’t picky. Because the way Cas was acting, Dean was starting to think maybe he had in fact suffered some sort of strange mental break and was getting off on angel porn.
Then it happened. Something woke Dean up in the motel room he and Sam were supposed to be sharing. He’d taken in his surroundings, hand automatically going for the knife under his pillow. Sam’s bed was empty—it was empty a lot these days, something Dean did not like to think about—but Castiel was seated on the opposite side of Dean’s bed, hands flat on his thighs.
“Hello, Dean,” he’d said, voice calm as ever.
Dean released the knife and sat up, elbows on his knees. “Well,” he said. “What is it this time? Another seal? Gonna send me back in time and show me how much I can’t change anything?”
Castiel’s mouth tightened; otherwise, he remained impassive. “No, Dean. I am here merely to—”
“Merely to what, Cas? Give me another lecture about God’s will and being an obedient little soldier? Tell me you’re going to take Sam away if I don’t follow orders?” Dean had pushed the sheets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Spare me, please.”
Castiel was quiet for long enough that Dean had begun to think he’d left while Dean’s back was turned. But then Castiel was standing beside the bed, close to Dean’s knees. “Sam’s already gone,” he said.
Dean hadn’t even thought about what he was doing; he’d simply acted, standing and swinging. Before he knew it, Castiel had swung him around until Dean’s knees hit Sam’s bed and he went down.
Castiel’s hands were hard on his arms, almost bruising in their grip, and Dean had a passing thought that in the morning the mark on his shoulder wouldn’t be the only sign that Castiel had been there.
“You are impossible,” Castiel said, kneeling over him. He sounded frustrated, exasperated, but when Dean looked up, the look in his eyes was complex, filled with anger and fear, regard and affection, fondness. Like a teacher with a favorite student who just kept missing the lesson.
Heh. Sammy was wrong. Sometimes reality really was like porn.
Dean couldn’t keep struggling when faced with that look. That look meant something. Dean wanted to know what.
Trying to ignore the way his dick was taking an interest, Dean said, “Oh, yea—”
Castiel’s mouth on his was forceful, rough. Not at all the kind of kiss Dean would have associated with angels had he ever thought about it before. At least, before the last time he found himself pinned by one. If he were being completely honest, he’d admit he’d been thinking about it a lot since then.
At the first touch of Castiel’s tongue to his lips, Dean opened for him. Slipped his own tongue inside Castiel’s mouth, felt him moan against him. Dean used his distraction as an opportunity to pull Castiel off balance until his weight fell against Dean completely, making them both groan as pressure was put where they both needed it.
And it was mutual; Dean could feel Castiel hard against his hip.
Released from Castiel’s grip, Dean slid one hand beneath the layers of Castiel’s coats to his ass, ignoring how ridiculous it was that Castiel was still fully clothed while Dean wore only a t-shirt and underwear. But he had trouble imagining Castiel in anything less. His other hand settled on the back of Castiel’s head, fingers slipping into his hair, holding him in place as Dean kissed him back.
Not that Castiel was making any move to go anywhere, not with the way he hitched his hips and ground forward against Dean, the two of them finding a rhythm until they weren’t kissing anymore so much as breathing into each other’s mouths.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably only minutes, Castiel stiffened against him, breath caught in his throat before being released with Dean’s name. Dean thrust again, again before he came, too, face pressed into Castiel’s neck.
When Castiel kneeled back, his face was still flushed, hair disheveled. There was a damp stain on his trousers and he frowned as he looked down at himself and at Dean still prone on the bed.
“Impossible,” Castiel said, voice hoarse, tongue darting out briefly over his lips.
Dean smirked up at him. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
Castiel paused then, head tilted to the side as he simply looked at Dean. “No,” he finally said, just as Dean’s cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I suppose not.”
And then he was gone.
*
Castiel’s hands are hot on his skin, exploratory, running up ribs and down arms, over joints and fingers. When Dean gasps as he thumbs a nipple, Castiel tilts his head to the side before thumbing it again. Dean shivers at the touch, at the way Castiel is watching him, knows that Cas is making a note of every reaction—every gasp and moan, every hitch and sigh—for later.
And there’s a thought. Later. Because the world didn’t end and Sam didn’t die and Castiel is still with them, not fallen or recalled to Heaven, but here. With Dean. He’ll have to ask him about that later. Right now he’s a little preoccupied with the way Castiel bends forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue.
Castiel caresses Dean with his tongue, stroking the other nipple with his thumb as he licks and kisses before moving across Dean’s chest to do the same there. Their cocks bump together as he moves and Dean itches to touch him, wrap his fingers in Castiel’s hair and hold him steady, take some control. But before he can do more than let go of the sheets, Castiel’s unoccupied hand is there, weaving their fingers together.
Dean blinks down his chest at him. Castiel stares back. When he speaks, his voice is smoke-filled and rough. “Dean, let me do this.”
He finds that he can’t deny that face, that look, eyes wide and dark with need. Dean is struck again with how crazy it is that Castiel should want this at all, but especially with Dean. It’s a gift, and Dean trusts him with his life, he can trust him with this.
Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand. “Yeah, okay.”
Cas smiles at him and squeezes back, but instead of returning to his task, he releases Dean’s hand and sits up.
”Hey,” Dean pouts, “I was enjoying that.”
“You will enjoy this, too,” Castiel says and then he’s wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock and Dean can’t help it when his hips buck into it.
Castiel’s grip is electric, hot and familiar. Just right, pulling and tightening. Twisting slightly on the upstroke, just like Dean likes.
And then it’s gone.
Before Dean can complain again, Castiel’s got a bottle of lube in his hand—who knows where he got it, if it was with him the whole time or simply brought into existence when he needed it—and Dean thinks, oh yeah, wants to spread his legs and feel Castiel slip inside him until he can’t tell them apart anymore.
Castiel slicks up his fingers, surprising Dean when he rises up on his knees to reach behind himself.
“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean breathes. “Are you sure?”
Eyes that had fluttered close open and meet his. “Yes,” is all Castiel says, eyes falling shut as he works himself open for Dean.
It’s the hottest, no, the most erotic thing Dean has ever seen in his life. Dark hair damp with sweat, skin shining in the dim light, cock hard and flushed, fucking himself on his fingers, making himself ready. Dean’s own fingers clutch at the sheets beneath him in a desperate attempt not to reach forward and touch.
When he’s ready, Castiel removes his fingers and moves forward until his knees are on either side of Dean’s hips before reaching between them to guide Dean inside.
Even with the preparation, even with Cas’s powers from above, the fit is tight. But then Castiel relaxes above him and sinks down, taking Dean inch by inch until he’s all the way inside.
Dean’s hands go to Castiel’s hips, unable to stay away any longer, fitting perfectly in the grooves he finds there. He half expects Castiel to tell him off again, but Cas just looks down at him fondly. “Impossible,” he says, and when he smiles, the corners of his mouth slip into a grin and Dean wants to laugh or maybe cry because it is impossible, it really is, and yet here they are and it’s happening and it’s real and it’s impossible, but it’s true.
*
The first two times set the pattern. The sex was always quick, usually vertical, fueled by frustration and anger and fear, desperation. And more, other things that Dean didn’t entirely feel comfortable thinking about, not yet. Not when there were so many uncertainties, so many other things pressing on his mind.
There had been a break of sorts, after Castiel got yanked back to Heaven and was forced to drink the Kool-Aid. Dean had wanted to grab him and shake him, force him to really look at him and talk to him, tell him what was wrong and whether or not anything would be right again. Dean didn’t believe in good things happening, but Castiel had told Dean that they did and Dean wanted to believe him.
And then Castiel disobeyed orders for Dean and Lucifer rose and the world almost ended but then it didn’t. The good guys won and the bad guys lost and Castiel fought by their side and wasn’t punished for disobeying bad orders.
The sex continued, fast by habit, by necessity. No time to stop and smell the roses because tomorrow the roses might be gone if they didn’t keep fighting now.
Castiel never stayed after, but Dean knew sometimes he returned later in the night if he were able. Watching over. Guarding. Dean should have found it creepy or annoying. Weird at the very least. And he probably would have, a year ago. He still did sometimes.
But mostly he just felt safe, peaceful. Loved. Ten other really girly things he’d never share with anyone.
Except maybe Cas, but Dean thought he already knew.
So Dean would watch Castiel in the midnight light of the room in return until Dean’s eyes would drift shut and he’d sleep.
*
Castiel moves above him, rising and falling against Dean’s hips. Dean holds on, fingers pressing bruises into Castiel’s skin that probably won’t be there in the morning, and thrusts against him, their bodies falling into a smooth, easy rhythm of give and take until nothing exists outside the four corners of the bed.
“Dean,” Castiel breaths, hand wrapping around Dean’s forearm.
Dean can take a hint. He moves his hand to Castiel’s cock and strokes in time with their thrusts until Cas tightens around him and comes, gasping Dean’s name.
And then Dean’s tumbling after. It’s less of the headlong rush that he’s become used to and more like easing in to a hot bath after a long day, a soothing warmth that envelopes him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
In the aftermath, he almost thinks he hears the faint sound of wings and then Cas slumps forward, Dean welcoming his weight against his chest.
He feels like the entire universe has been shaken, resettling around him into something new and different and better than anything he ever imagined before. The feeling is addictive and Dean wants it for as long as he can have it. Longer, if possible. He’s still not sure how he ever deserved this, how Castiel ever came to be his, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to hang on to him with all his might.
Dean can feel Castiel’s heartbeat slowing alongside his own until they’re both even, in sync. And then Cas shifts, moving until he’s beside Dean on the bed, head propped in his hand as he spreads the other one across Dean’s chest.
“Do you still think patience is overrated, Dean?” he asks, an honest to God glint in his eyes.
A laugh bursts out of Dean and, damn, that feels good. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content, this light. He rolls on to his side, mirroring Castiel, and pulls him in for a kiss that’s soft and sloppy because he can’t stop grinning. Castiel’s almost smiling in return when Dean pulls back, his mouth gone soft and sweet, curling gently at the edges. It’s a happy look and that makes everything that much better because Dean caused that look, not anyone or anything else.
“You make a good argument,” Dean says. “But I think I’m going to need more convincing.”
Castiel nods seriously and seems to consider that, though the light in his eyes betrays him. “I’m prepared to do what it takes until you understand my reasoning.”
“Good,” Dean says, leaning in to brush his lips across Cas’s. “Good.”
The room is a little chilly without the blankets and they’re both a sticky mess. Sam’s eventually going to either get bored at the diner or kicked out and want in the room, probably sooner rather than later.
But for now, Dean’s going to take the time to kiss Castiel as thoroughly as possible. Then he’s going to do it again. And again. Because he can.
Dean/Castiel
NC-17
4475
Post-season four. The pattern was set the first two times they had sex. Changing it was only a matter of time.
I owe many thanks to
ginnith who not only helped me with editing (showing incredible patience), but also let me ramble at her forever about the characters. ♥Castiel pins Dean to the bed, not with hands or body or even his freaky angel mojo, but with a look. Just one, and Dean can’t move, doesn’t want to. For a fleeting moment, he wonders if this is what a mouse feels like just before a snake strikes. He disregards that thought quickly though because Cas definitely isn’t there to hurt him and Dean definitely wants him to strike. Especially if striking means sex. Dean’s pretty sure it does, given the fact that they’re both naked.
Dean’s not actually sure when they lost their clothes. He remembers…well. He remembers walking across the street with Sam to the diner on the corner for dinner, Sam still a little stiff beside him but slowly working at forgiving himself for almost ending the world. They’d slid into a booth and ordered their food, talked and ate while Dean ogled a waitress or two and Sam searched the internet for signs of their usual, everyday evil to hunt.
Dean had been appreciating a particularly fine pair of legs when he heard the faint sound of wings and turned to find Castiel sitting next to him in the booth, tucked between Dean and the window like he belonged there. He was frowning. Busted, Dean remembered thinking.
Sam looked up briefly from his laptop. “Hey, Cas.”
“Hello, Sam. Dean.” It was only because Dean knew him so well that he caught the underlying tone, the gravel that meant, I have seen your thoughts and they displease me, and did his best to suppress a shudder.
“Hey,” Dean said. “What brings you to our little neck of the woods? Not another apocalypse already?”
“I wish to speak with you privately, Dean.”
“Ooo-kay.” He ignored the way his heart quickened at the look Castiel gave him. “You gonna be okay here, Sammy?”
Dean hadn’t been looking, but he was sure Sam rolled his eyes. “Yeah, Dean. I’m good. You two go have fun now. I’ll make sure to knock extra loud.”
That had gotten his attention. He’d gaped at Sam a little as he slid out of his seat and waited for Castiel to follow. Sam had just smirked at him, unrepentant and knowing.
Dean absolutely had not blushed.
He remembered leaving the diner, walking back to the motel, unlocking the door. He remembered stepping aside so Castiel could enter first, shutting the door behind him, tossing the key on the nearby table.
Dean didn’t remember Castiel moving, but suddenly Dean had been pressed against the door, breath knocked abruptly out of him.
“I would prefer it if you would not act solely on your base animal instincts.”
Heh. Cas was jealous. “You would prefer it, huh?” Dean asked, smirking.
“Yes, Dean, I would prefer it.”
Which…hadn’t been what Dean had been expecting, not really. He’d expected Castiel to push him, demand that Dean stop lusting after anything attractive on two legs. Maybe tell him it was a sin, though that would be a little ironic given the circumstances. But there was a tone to Castiel’s voice, something in his eyes that gave Dean pause. Cas was jealous, sure, jealous because Dean was his, but he wasn’t going to make Dean do anything. Dean understood. A choice was a choice; it meant more if made freely.
Dean looked at Castiel standing before him, felt the cheap wood of the motel door against his back, Castiel’s hands secure on his arms, Cas’s face so serious and open.
“Yeah,” Dean said. “Okay.”
He didn’t think he’d ever seen Cas smile like that before, wide and happy, and in that moment Dean was sure he’d never seen anything more beautiful.
“Good,” Castiel had said, leaning in, mouth closing on Dean’s.
That’s when Dean lost track of time.
Somewhere between then and now, clothing was removed. Dean’s not sure if it’s strewn about the room or if Castiel just made it disappear. It could be either. He can’t see much from his position on the bed, flat on his back, head propped up by pillows, and even if he could, Dean doesn’t want to look away from Castiel.
He stands at the end of the bed and it’s the first time Dean’s ever seen him completely naked. Before—first with the seals and Sam and then with Lucifer and the apocalypse—before there’d been no time.
Sam left the lamp by his bed on before they went out, filling the room with a dim, warm light filtered through the shade. Castiel’s body, which Dean stopped thinking of as Jimmy’s a long time ago, is cast in light and shadow, lit muscles and dark planes. He looks otherworldly and familiar, human and powerful. Dean wants him closer, wants to touch and feel every part of him.
“You gonna stand there all night? I don’t think Sam will appreciate being kicked out of his room for that long,” Dean says, leaning up on his elbows. Cas’s eyes follow the movement and Dean can practically feel the way they move from his face to his shoulders, his chest, down his stomach, over his dick and thighs, down the length of his legs to his feet.
When Castiel meets his eyes again, he’s smirking a little. “I’m just,” he pauses and, holy shit, licks his bottom lip, “enjoying the view.”
Dean swallows hard. “You could, uh, take a picture. It’d last longer.”
Castiel looks away briefly, mouth quirking slightly into a grin, before looking back at Dean and moving forward until he’s kneeling on the bed. “Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” he says, crawling forward until he’s propped over Dean, knees bracketing Dean’s thighs. “Or true.”
Sometimes Dean forgets that this is not something Castiel does lightly. And sometimes, when Cas looks at him like that—like Dean is the center of everything; the beginning, middle, and end—he’s overcome by the immensity of it, terrified and amazed that so much is his. And grateful, so fucking grateful for all of it.
The sex has nothing to do with gratitude, though, because that would be wrong. The sex was a surprise, an actual revelation. Dean hadn’t realized he’d even wanted it until it happened.
*
The first time was fast, a frenzy of feeling and emotion—the same ones angels kept claiming not to have and boy, does Dean think that’s a load of shit now—and bodies pressed against a wall covered by truly ugly wallpaper in just another tacky motel. It’s quick and hard, angry and frustrated and out of control. And really fucking hot.
He’d been so angry at Castiel, had wanted to scream and punch and hurt even though it wouldn’t do anyone any good. Would maybe even get him tossed back downstairs. But it’d make Dean feel a little better, even if it was only for that second where fist met face. When all he wanted to do was shout how unfair it was that so much was expected of him and there was so little he could actually do, giving Castiel a black eye, marking him up in some way, felt like a way to prove that Dean Winchester could still affect something.
But things got out of hand. Or, heh, maybe they finally got in hand.
Dean had only meant to push him; instead, he found his hands wrapped around the lapels of Castiel’s coat. He’d shoved him, sure, and Castiel hadn’t even flinched as he hit the wall, which only made Dean’s blood boil more. But then any half-assed plans he might have had to punch Castiel in the face flew right out the window as Dean followed it up with his mouth. A kiss that wasn’t so much a caress as an attack, daring Castiel to feel, demanding him to react.
And he did. Before Dean could really even register, holy shit, I’m kissing Cas, an angel of the freakin’ Lord, not fallen but of the can-smite-you-where-you-stand variety, Castiel moved, pinning Dean to the wall with his hands and mouth and body.
That had been a trip, feeling Castiel’s dick hard against his thigh through the layers of clothing between them. Dean remembered thinking, bizarrely, my angel can go 0 to 60 in no seconds flat, how about yours, before he was distracted by his own surprising possessiveness and Castiel’s hand slipping from his wrist to smooth down Dean’s chest, his stomach, to fit against the heated weight at his groin.
Everything was a blur after that. Hands seeking skin, clothing pushed out of the way, breaths gasped against open mouths.
“You are not incompetent, Dean,” Castiel had said, voice urgent, hands equally so.
Dean pushed away the doubt that was churning in his gut and huffed a laugh against Castiel’s jaw. “Don’t have to tell me that,” he said, tightening his hand around Castiel’s cock, eliciting a groan that sounded a lot like Dean’s name.
After that it didn’t take long at all; Dean was coming, shouting Castiel’s name, Castiel right behind him.
They stayed pressed together for a while—Dean leaning against the wall, Castiel leaning against Dean—as their breathing slowed.
Then Castiel had pulled away, barely even looked at Dean when he said, “I must go,” and left. Up and disappeared, leaving Dean a raw mess of emotion. He felt satisfied, more than he had in a long time. Even though it was only a handjob against a wall, his body still tingled.
But there was also confusion, anger left over from before. Only now it was that much worse. He hated that Castiel could just vanish like that, leaving Dean with the questions and the confusion. And the clean-up. Dean had plans. Sure, those plans had involved violence when they’d first entered the room, but sex was good, too. Sex was great even and Dean could just as easily mark Castiel with a few well placed bruises from his mouth as he could from his fist. He’d have more fun doing it, too. They both would.
Dean used that same fist to hit the wall behind him, ignored the pain that followed. Wondered what the fuck happened now.
“Cas,” Dean muttered, letting his head fall back with a thud against the wall. “You son—”
*
“—of a bitch,” Dean gasps, wrists pressed firmly to the bed, Castiel’s hands wrapped around them.
“Patience—”
“If you say ‘is a virtue,’ so help me, Cas, I will kick your ass.”
“I believe that would be cutting off your nose to spite your face, Dean,” Castiel says, voice warm and amused. “I was only going to tell you I require you to be patient. You’ll get what you want eventually.”
Dean’s an impatient man; he’s never been good with waiting or delayed gratification, but Castiel is like his own immovable object, focus so intense and determined Dean can feel it crackling, sparking against his skin. Dean squirms against his grasp, the rest of Castiel’s body still propped above his, too far away to touch when all Dean wants is to yank him down and feel all that glorious skin against his.
“Patience is overrated,” he finally grits out.
Castiel chuckles. “I think in time you’ll find that to be untrue,” he says, leaning in. His mouth on Dean’s is a tease, a chaste press of lips and a quick, dirty flick of tongue. “Now do not move.” He presses Dean’s wrists against the sheets before removing his hands, sitting back until he’s settled on Dean’s thighs.
Dean wants to move; he wants to run his palms over all of the naked skin before him, slide his fingers through the hair on Castiel’s chest, wrap his hand around Castiel’s cock and make him moan and squirm and feel.
Because Dean hadn’t been sure they were still doing this, that this was still on the table. The war over, the world saved, what was to keep Castiel Earth-bound now? And yet by some miracle, here he is, unfallen. Dean’s own personal angel of the Lord.
Dean plans on taking advantage of that. If only Castiel will let him. Unfortunately, Cas seems determined to drive Dean crazy first, expecting him to stay still when Dean’s gotten so used to fast and hard. That’s the way it’s been between them, fast and hard and messy, the need to touch and taste overcoming them until that’s all there is.
*
The second time was absolutely Castiel’s fault, of this Dean was sure.
Even if Dean was the one pushing him, looking for some sign that what happened in that motel room a couple states over really happened. That it hadn’t been some weird-ass new sex fantasy Dean had picked up due to the surreal turns his already bizarro life had taken. Because that would just take the fucking cake, especially if he ended up back in Hell for fantasizing about the very being that pulled him out of it.
If that was how this was going to go down, Dean wanted the actual experience. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t. Only Dean was definitely going to make sure they did.
They had seen each other twice since that encounter, each time Castiel remaining the angel they’d all come to know and…well, know anyway. Collected, business-like. Unruffled. And, God, Dean wanted to ruffle him up a little. Or a lot, he wasn’t picky. Because the way Cas was acting, Dean was starting to think maybe he had in fact suffered some sort of strange mental break and was getting off on angel porn.
Then it happened. Something woke Dean up in the motel room he and Sam were supposed to be sharing. He’d taken in his surroundings, hand automatically going for the knife under his pillow. Sam’s bed was empty—it was empty a lot these days, something Dean did not like to think about—but Castiel was seated on the opposite side of Dean’s bed, hands flat on his thighs.
“Hello, Dean,” he’d said, voice calm as ever.
Dean released the knife and sat up, elbows on his knees. “Well,” he said. “What is it this time? Another seal? Gonna send me back in time and show me how much I can’t change anything?”
Castiel’s mouth tightened; otherwise, he remained impassive. “No, Dean. I am here merely to—”
“Merely to what, Cas? Give me another lecture about God’s will and being an obedient little soldier? Tell me you’re going to take Sam away if I don’t follow orders?” Dean had pushed the sheets off and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Spare me, please.”
Castiel was quiet for long enough that Dean had begun to think he’d left while Dean’s back was turned. But then Castiel was standing beside the bed, close to Dean’s knees. “Sam’s already gone,” he said.
Dean hadn’t even thought about what he was doing; he’d simply acted, standing and swinging. Before he knew it, Castiel had swung him around until Dean’s knees hit Sam’s bed and he went down.
Castiel’s hands were hard on his arms, almost bruising in their grip, and Dean had a passing thought that in the morning the mark on his shoulder wouldn’t be the only sign that Castiel had been there.
“You are impossible,” Castiel said, kneeling over him. He sounded frustrated, exasperated, but when Dean looked up, the look in his eyes was complex, filled with anger and fear, regard and affection, fondness. Like a teacher with a favorite student who just kept missing the lesson.
Heh. Sammy was wrong. Sometimes reality really was like porn.
Dean couldn’t keep struggling when faced with that look. That look meant something. Dean wanted to know what.
Trying to ignore the way his dick was taking an interest, Dean said, “Oh, yea—”
Castiel’s mouth on his was forceful, rough. Not at all the kind of kiss Dean would have associated with angels had he ever thought about it before. At least, before the last time he found himself pinned by one. If he were being completely honest, he’d admit he’d been thinking about it a lot since then.
At the first touch of Castiel’s tongue to his lips, Dean opened for him. Slipped his own tongue inside Castiel’s mouth, felt him moan against him. Dean used his distraction as an opportunity to pull Castiel off balance until his weight fell against Dean completely, making them both groan as pressure was put where they both needed it.
And it was mutual; Dean could feel Castiel hard against his hip.
Released from Castiel’s grip, Dean slid one hand beneath the layers of Castiel’s coats to his ass, ignoring how ridiculous it was that Castiel was still fully clothed while Dean wore only a t-shirt and underwear. But he had trouble imagining Castiel in anything less. His other hand settled on the back of Castiel’s head, fingers slipping into his hair, holding him in place as Dean kissed him back.
Not that Castiel was making any move to go anywhere, not with the way he hitched his hips and ground forward against Dean, the two of them finding a rhythm until they weren’t kissing anymore so much as breathing into each other’s mouths.
After what seemed like forever, but was probably only minutes, Castiel stiffened against him, breath caught in his throat before being released with Dean’s name. Dean thrust again, again before he came, too, face pressed into Castiel’s neck.
When Castiel kneeled back, his face was still flushed, hair disheveled. There was a damp stain on his trousers and he frowned as he looked down at himself and at Dean still prone on the bed.
“Impossible,” Castiel said, voice hoarse, tongue darting out briefly over his lips.
Dean smirked up at him. “You wouldn’t have me any other way.”
Castiel paused then, head tilted to the side as he simply looked at Dean. “No,” he finally said, just as Dean’s cheeks grew warm under his gaze. “I suppose not.”
And then he was gone.
*
Castiel’s hands are hot on his skin, exploratory, running up ribs and down arms, over joints and fingers. When Dean gasps as he thumbs a nipple, Castiel tilts his head to the side before thumbing it again. Dean shivers at the touch, at the way Castiel is watching him, knows that Cas is making a note of every reaction—every gasp and moan, every hitch and sigh—for later.
And there’s a thought. Later. Because the world didn’t end and Sam didn’t die and Castiel is still with them, not fallen or recalled to Heaven, but here. With Dean. He’ll have to ask him about that later. Right now he’s a little preoccupied with the way Castiel bends forward, replacing his thumb with his tongue.
Castiel caresses Dean with his tongue, stroking the other nipple with his thumb as he licks and kisses before moving across Dean’s chest to do the same there. Their cocks bump together as he moves and Dean itches to touch him, wrap his fingers in Castiel’s hair and hold him steady, take some control. But before he can do more than let go of the sheets, Castiel’s unoccupied hand is there, weaving their fingers together.
Dean blinks down his chest at him. Castiel stares back. When he speaks, his voice is smoke-filled and rough. “Dean, let me do this.”
He finds that he can’t deny that face, that look, eyes wide and dark with need. Dean is struck again with how crazy it is that Castiel should want this at all, but especially with Dean. It’s a gift, and Dean trusts him with his life, he can trust him with this.
Dean squeezes Castiel’s hand. “Yeah, okay.”
Cas smiles at him and squeezes back, but instead of returning to his task, he releases Dean’s hand and sits up.
”Hey,” Dean pouts, “I was enjoying that.”
“You will enjoy this, too,” Castiel says and then he’s wrapping his hand around Dean’s cock and Dean can’t help it when his hips buck into it.
Castiel’s grip is electric, hot and familiar. Just right, pulling and tightening. Twisting slightly on the upstroke, just like Dean likes.
And then it’s gone.
Before Dean can complain again, Castiel’s got a bottle of lube in his hand—who knows where he got it, if it was with him the whole time or simply brought into existence when he needed it—and Dean thinks, oh yeah, wants to spread his legs and feel Castiel slip inside him until he can’t tell them apart anymore.
Castiel slicks up his fingers, surprising Dean when he rises up on his knees to reach behind himself.
“Holy shit, Cas,” Dean breathes. “Are you sure?”
Eyes that had fluttered close open and meet his. “Yes,” is all Castiel says, eyes falling shut as he works himself open for Dean.
It’s the hottest, no, the most erotic thing Dean has ever seen in his life. Dark hair damp with sweat, skin shining in the dim light, cock hard and flushed, fucking himself on his fingers, making himself ready. Dean’s own fingers clutch at the sheets beneath him in a desperate attempt not to reach forward and touch.
When he’s ready, Castiel removes his fingers and moves forward until his knees are on either side of Dean’s hips before reaching between them to guide Dean inside.
Even with the preparation, even with Cas’s powers from above, the fit is tight. But then Castiel relaxes above him and sinks down, taking Dean inch by inch until he’s all the way inside.
Dean’s hands go to Castiel’s hips, unable to stay away any longer, fitting perfectly in the grooves he finds there. He half expects Castiel to tell him off again, but Cas just looks down at him fondly. “Impossible,” he says, and when he smiles, the corners of his mouth slip into a grin and Dean wants to laugh or maybe cry because it is impossible, it really is, and yet here they are and it’s happening and it’s real and it’s impossible, but it’s true.
*
The first two times set the pattern. The sex was always quick, usually vertical, fueled by frustration and anger and fear, desperation. And more, other things that Dean didn’t entirely feel comfortable thinking about, not yet. Not when there were so many uncertainties, so many other things pressing on his mind.
There had been a break of sorts, after Castiel got yanked back to Heaven and was forced to drink the Kool-Aid. Dean had wanted to grab him and shake him, force him to really look at him and talk to him, tell him what was wrong and whether or not anything would be right again. Dean didn’t believe in good things happening, but Castiel had told Dean that they did and Dean wanted to believe him.
And then Castiel disobeyed orders for Dean and Lucifer rose and the world almost ended but then it didn’t. The good guys won and the bad guys lost and Castiel fought by their side and wasn’t punished for disobeying bad orders.
The sex continued, fast by habit, by necessity. No time to stop and smell the roses because tomorrow the roses might be gone if they didn’t keep fighting now.
Castiel never stayed after, but Dean knew sometimes he returned later in the night if he were able. Watching over. Guarding. Dean should have found it creepy or annoying. Weird at the very least. And he probably would have, a year ago. He still did sometimes.
But mostly he just felt safe, peaceful. Loved. Ten other really girly things he’d never share with anyone.
Except maybe Cas, but Dean thought he already knew.
So Dean would watch Castiel in the midnight light of the room in return until Dean’s eyes would drift shut and he’d sleep.
*
Castiel moves above him, rising and falling against Dean’s hips. Dean holds on, fingers pressing bruises into Castiel’s skin that probably won’t be there in the morning, and thrusts against him, their bodies falling into a smooth, easy rhythm of give and take until nothing exists outside the four corners of the bed.
“Dean,” Castiel breaths, hand wrapping around Dean’s forearm.
Dean can take a hint. He moves his hand to Castiel’s cock and strokes in time with their thrusts until Cas tightens around him and comes, gasping Dean’s name.
And then Dean’s tumbling after. It’s less of the headlong rush that he’s become used to and more like easing in to a hot bath after a long day, a soothing warmth that envelopes him from the tips of his toes to the top of his head.
In the aftermath, he almost thinks he hears the faint sound of wings and then Cas slumps forward, Dean welcoming his weight against his chest.
He feels like the entire universe has been shaken, resettling around him into something new and different and better than anything he ever imagined before. The feeling is addictive and Dean wants it for as long as he can have it. Longer, if possible. He’s still not sure how he ever deserved this, how Castiel ever came to be his, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to hang on to him with all his might.
Dean can feel Castiel’s heartbeat slowing alongside his own until they’re both even, in sync. And then Cas shifts, moving until he’s beside Dean on the bed, head propped in his hand as he spreads the other one across Dean’s chest.
“Do you still think patience is overrated, Dean?” he asks, an honest to God glint in his eyes.
A laugh bursts out of Dean and, damn, that feels good. He can’t remember the last time he felt this content, this light. He rolls on to his side, mirroring Castiel, and pulls him in for a kiss that’s soft and sloppy because he can’t stop grinning. Castiel’s almost smiling in return when Dean pulls back, his mouth gone soft and sweet, curling gently at the edges. It’s a happy look and that makes everything that much better because Dean caused that look, not anyone or anything else.
“You make a good argument,” Dean says. “But I think I’m going to need more convincing.”
Castiel nods seriously and seems to consider that, though the light in his eyes betrays him. “I’m prepared to do what it takes until you understand my reasoning.”
“Good,” Dean says, leaning in to brush his lips across Cas’s. “Good.”
The room is a little chilly without the blankets and they’re both a sticky mess. Sam’s eventually going to either get bored at the diner or kicked out and want in the room, probably sooner rather than later.
But for now, Dean’s going to take the time to kiss Castiel as thoroughly as possible. Then he’s going to do it again. And again. Because he can.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 04:17 pm (UTC)When I read this: Dean swallows hard. “You could, uh, take a picture. It’d last longer.” I was all 'heh, don't be so sure, Dean'--and then you actually had Castiel comment on that! *luffs*
*claps hands*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 04:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:40 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 06:06 pm (UTC)Awesome, loved every part of it.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:41 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 06:15 pm (UTC)Because Dean hadn’t been sure they were still doing this, that this was still on the table.
God, Dean. Anyway, a real pleasure to read.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 07:15 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 08:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 08:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 10:31 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:50 pm (UTC)Thank you for the hand-holding!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-22 10:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:50 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 01:50 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 02:27 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:52 pm (UTC)Wow
Date: 2009-06-23 12:05 pm (UTC)“Cas,” Dean muttered, letting his head fall back with a thud against the wall. “You son—”
*
“—of a bitch,” Dean gasps, wrists pressed firmly to the bed, Castiel’s hands wrapped around them.
Re: Wow
Date: 2009-06-24 07:53 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 12:39 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:57 pm (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 01:49 pm (UTC)*warm happy sighs*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 07:59 pm (UTC)Also, your icon makes me laugh every time I look up. :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 03:25 pm (UTC)Also, Dean thinking busted when Cas pops into the diner? I lol'ed. ;)
This was fantastic, dude, really. And did I mention hot? 'Cause yeah. IT WAS HOT.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 08:01 pm (UTC)Thank you so much!! :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-23 07:20 pm (UTC)I love your writing style - Very direct and accurate. It suits the characters very well.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-24 08:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-25 05:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-06-26 04:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-01 04:03 am (UTC)i loved this, it's lovely!
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-03 11:55 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-04 01:00 am (UTC)Patience is most definitely a virtue if that's the reward! Very hot and very sweet, too. Not to mention funny, what with Sam's knowing look *g*.
Laura.
(no subject)
Date: 2009-07-04 04:33 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2010-03-26 06:35 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-01 07:21 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-06 11:27 pm (UTC)I'm happy you've found some of my other stories and are enjoying them! These guys have obviously taken over my brain (and I'm loving it!).
Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-08 05:10 am (UTC)~OKW
(no subject)
Date: 2011-02-10 01:44 am (UTC)I especially like "my angel can go 0 to 60 in no seconds flat, how about yours?" That should be on a t-shirt!
Hee! I can just see Dean in one now...
(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-14 12:02 pm (UTC)and I liked Sams reaction at the beginning too :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-04-21 01:10 am (UTC)Thank you!
(no subject)
Date: 2011-09-09 05:41 am (UTC)This has the perfect blend of scorching hot and sensual, and I love the intimacy you weave throughout.
Another one for the Memory bucket.
Thanks for sharing.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-09-23 03:39 am (UTC)And I'm so happy you liked this fic! Thank you so much.