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When he started the car, Dean was still someplace between laughing and crying. It had been too damn long since he had half as much fun with Sam, and he sure as hell (ha ha) never expected to have half as much fun with Cas. It is all tits-up and backwards but that doesn't change the fact that Cas playing psychic therapist to a hooker is funny as shit.
It doesn't really solve the problem, though, and as far as Dean is concerned it is major problem. Maybe even a spiritual one. He is not the guy who gets all girly over sex – sometimes it is just as important as a good piss or a hamburger, fitting into his life between songs on the stereo. That doesn't change the fact that life without sex isn't much of a life at all (neither is life without hamburgers, after all), and no life = dead so hey, he is saving Cas here. At least for a little while…a thought he tamps down as he turns off the road back to that abandoned shit hole of a house.
"You turned the wrong way, Dean."
"Yeah, I know. Nothin' getting by you." Dean smiles, and it feels a little grim, but so does he.
"Dean?"
"Shut up, I like this song." He reaches over and cranks up the volume. Cas wrinkles his face up like a spinster aunt, and opens his mouth but Dean does not want to argue this just yet. "I said, SHUT UP!" He yells over the music. And miracles never cease, even with angels apparently: Cas shuts up. Dean nods in satisfaction and keeps going. Small towns are all the same, some more hilly than others, but there is always, always an abandoned farm off the beaten tracks that no one in ten years has bothered to check on, not even the cops. Dean looks for them whenever he sails into a new place, both as possible hideouts and possible hunting grounds, and he knows three off the top of his head that are nearby.
The driveway is not even gated, just a break in the fence, and he gets up to the back of the house without much trouble. The neighbors are acres away and would have to be up late, sober, and using a telescope to notice anything out of whack, so it is about as safe as he can make it. He cuts the engine and the lights but the almost-full moon over the fallow fields is bright enough to see by. He turns to Cas and sits against the door, facing him.
"Picking up anything?"
"Anything?" Cas asks neutrally, like always, dull and lacking curiosity.
"Yeah, anything. Demons, monsters, mosquitoes, anything that might want to suck our blood."
"I…" More confusion, then acceptance, and after a moment he shakes his head. "No."
Man of many words is his guardian angel, Dean thinks. As he sits staring at the man who is more than a mortal, it hits him for the first time: Cas is his, not like they were married or shit, but still, they are in this together more than he and Sam are now. Cas always comes for him – and oh fuck, he is not going to think like that just yet. Not yet. It is hard enough (damnit, the double entendres are not helping his stiffy, where the hell is his mind? Not there, not yet, he reminds himself).
"So, this mortal sin thing, you doesn't seem to have much problem with that back at the whore house."
Cas visibly cringes, probably from the language or maybe the memory, who the hell can tell? Not Dean. After a moment, Cas relaxes and shakes his head. "You drove out of town to a deserted farmhouse to discuss theology?"
Dean cringes himself at the hopeful tone of voice. "No."
Disappointment now, and another frown. "Then I do not understand why we are here." Cas squints into the darkness, as if Dean hid the answer there to trick him.
If Cas were a girl, or just fucking human, this part would be easy because Dean could kick it, spin a little flattery and wit around before kissing his prey into submission. This, however, is going to require a more straightforward tactic, so Dean hooks his right leg up, stretching his jeans over his dick, which is hard (ha ha) to miss. At this rate he is going to have jerk off before he even gets to the point because unlike the oblivious angel in the passenger seat, Dean is only a man. "I'm asking about your moral position concerning sex." He over enunciates sarcastically, then flicks his eyes down at his lap and back up, trying to get Cas to buy a vowel.
Classic Cas head tilt then, and more frowning. After a moment he finally flicks his gaze down Dean's body and draws back abruptly. Damnit.
"If you…if…we could go back…" Cas starts flapping his hands around the inside of the car uncharacteristically, and Dean wonders if this is something left over from Jimmy. He shoves the idea aside and grabs the closest hand, shoving it into his crotch. His dick nearly groans with relief at the pressure of their joined hands pressing down. Cas freezes, deer-in-the-headlights expression locked firmly on Dean's face and no where else.
"No going back, Cas. You were all up for losing your virginity back there, and I'm betting you'd still like a go."
"We…we…shouldn't…"
Dean tightens his grip on Cas' wrist, although he notices that he isn't exactly trying to get free. "We shouldn't, as in, we'll get smote down, or we shouldn't because you don't want to?"
Cas doesn't answer and squirms uncomfortably, and starts trying to pull his hand back. It isn't a "no" though, so Dean bucks his hips up. His dick sings hosannas but he keeps his focus on Cas, whose eyes flutter closed for a moment before widening in panic again.
"Yeah, okay. So that's a 'go'. C'mon. I'm not doing this in the front seat." He shoves Cas back and gets out, slamming the door shut. He figures the hood would work, he could lean over that and let Cas do his thing – would not be the first time Dean offered it up, but it had been since long before Sam came back into the scene. Things had been rough enough between them without 'fessing up that his older brother took action from both sides of the fence, and he pushes back the bitterness of all the lying and hiding they had done with each other. Hell, for all he knew Sam likes it up the ass as much as he does -- of course if he ever finds that out for fact, he'll have to de-ball the son of a bitch who got to his younger brother without asking permission first.
Shaking those thoughts off (again, and again) he opens the trunk while Cas decides to get out of the car, which he knows is not something that is going to happen quickly, and digs out the lube from his spare bag, smiling to himself. Always prepared. The Boy Scouts really missed out on him. Then again, maybe not.
He walks over and yanks open the passenger door. "Get out."
"Dean, we can't." Cas sounds calm and collected but looks utterly wrecked, his eyes wide and a thin sheen of sweat making his skin shine. His vessel – Dean can't bring himself to name names at a time like this – is a damn good looking man, and for a moment, for the first time, Dean lets himself linger over those looks.
"You're the one always getting in my personal space, Cas. Time to make good on it." He grabs Cas' coat and drags him out, noting that he is not actually fighting or even arguing with him. "Atta' boy."
He pulls him to the front of the car and wedges the bottle of lube against the bumper. "We will need that. A lot of it."
Cas cringes but does not step back. Master of the mixed signals, Dean curses, and they stare at each other.
"Dean, I…I appreciate…your intention…" Cas looks pained, as if he is returning a wedding ring, but he still does not step away.
"My intention? My intention? You got any idea what's going on here, buddy?"
Cas shakes his head. "No, actually, I don't, although I suspect it pertains to…" Cas waves a hand over Dean's crotch, at a safe distance. "Your urgency."
"My 'urgency'? Jesus, Cas, I'm propositioning you here. You, me, and a bottle of lube. Okay? You want to loose your virginity, then I'm your man for the job, in fact I'm the only man for this job. Also, you scare women off by telling them their fortunes."
Cas approaches warily, and Dean is reminded of nature documentaries where the wild innocent predator is being lured into captivity. "You want me to have sex with you?"
"That's the idea. A little different than what I planned, but improvisation is my middle name." He tries to smirk, and makes the mark close enough for Cas to narrow his eyes in displeasure. Score.
"I never said I wanted to do that, I never asked. You told me two men I've never heard of were gay and that I am not going to die a virgin! Now I'm here with you, the man I sacrificed Heaven for, being offered carnal relations and I do not understand why!"
Cas is not yelling but it is a damn close, and shoves up further into Dean's personal space to intimidate him. Dean knows all the tricks, and he knows the best defense is a really good distraction. He reaches up slowly, telegraphing, because there is no point in actually trying to take Cas by surprise. Gently taking Cas' face in his hands, he pulls them together and kisses him.
It is not an All-Star Winchester kiss by any stretch, because it isn't supposed to be. It is 'hey, lips, hello!' more than down'n'dirty, something soft and possibly romantic, if Dean is honest about it. Which he can be when he is doing the kissing and no one is talking. He tips his head so they are not bumping noses, gently mashing their lips together, keeping tongue out of it and not even crowding Cas any more then he already is. This is going to make or break his after-school project, here, and he knows that Cas is a lot stronger. Dean is not very used to kissing people he thinks might punch him for the favor – he prefers sure things, when it comes to sex – and this is pushing his luck.
He keeps at it, long second after long second, stroking his thumbs over Cas' cheeks and hoping for the best while the angel stands frozen, leaning forward into him just enough that pulling back would break everything off for good. Dean shifts a bit, settling himself on his feet better, realizing with surprising suddenness how much he wants this, how much he needs to give Castiel this much of him, and how important it is for Cas not to know that. Ever.
"Doesn't matter why, dumbass." He pulls back a little, nibbling on Cas' lower lip before talking. "Sex isn't one of those things that has a 'why' attached, okay?"
Cas nods once, his disorientation clear in his scrunched up face. "No why."
"Exactly. No why." The next kiss is still close-mouthed and soft, and Dean keeps his eyes open to get an idea of how Cas is taking it. This close it is really hard to register it clearly, but Cas' closed eyes and soft expression give enough away: he is doing this, he might even want it, and Dean drops his arms to Cas' waist, tugging at him. Castiel steps in, following blindly like he never does any other goddamn time, but his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
"C'mon, Cas, c'mon." Dean closes his eyes again as he speaks against Cas' mouth, raising his hands to prod Cas to move his arms up. "Yeahhhh…" He sighs when Cas takes that clue and embraces him around his shoulders. Dean wraps his arms fully around the other man's waist, under his long coat, and pulls until they are flush, until he can feel their dicks starting to push at each other through their clothes. Dean thinks he can work with this, if Cas just keeps following along and….
Cas surges forward and Dean throws his arms out to catch himself, yelling out in surprise, which has the side effect of opening his mouth to Cas' tongue, licking the inside of his bottom lip right when his back slaps down the hood. Cas has a knee set on the bumper and is getting pushy, shoving Dean, the kiss wetter and deeper but not quite matching the wrestling they have going on from the neck down.
"Whoa, whoa cowboy…" Dean gets his hands between them and shoves up, swearing that Cas weighs a ton because he just doesn't move, and Dean realizes with a fleeting moment of worry how much stronger Cas is, and how Dean's not stopping anything he doesn't want happening. He frowns.
"What? That…Dean…" Cas' voice still has that same eerie, low tone as always but is backed by a hint of breathlessness as he tries to find Dean's mouth again.
"Yeah, okay, that's going in the right direction." Dean says, feeling non-committal for the first time since he got this stupid idea in his head.
"This kissing, it is nothing like I have ever shared before."
Dean frowns some more. "Shared before?"
Cas blinks, and cocks his head, unmoving from where he presses Dean down onto the car. Dean figures the angel could stay like that for hours without twitching a muscle, and it is just another uncomfortable thought thrown into this mess.
"We are angels, Dean. We do a lot of kissing."
"Huh."
Cas' expression shifts as he turns his serious gaze on Dean's lips. "It is never like this."
"I bet."
Cas pushes forward more slowly this time, and Dean trusts him – he reminds himself of that – and they kiss again, tongues being more pushy too, and it isn't a wide-open gay-porno kiss but it is wet and exploratory and Cas takes his fucking time as if he has never actually tasted someone else's mouth before.
Because he hasn't.
Dean's eyes pop open again – he's really going to have to cut these amazing moments of revelation off at the knees if this is going to go anywhere tonight. He pulls back again, but this time, Cas just sinks lower and starts kissing his jaw down to his neck. It is distracting but Dean has a game plan, a good game plan that involves lube and dicks, and now that Cas is on board he can move this forward without any more of this emotional crap.
"So, you good to go, then?"
"No no no, please…I want to…stay here. No one is here, let's stay…" Cas' voice is totally blown now, gravely and raw as he pecks kisses against Dean's skin in between words. He's got one hell of a hard on pressing into Dean's thigh, but he's still fairly motionless, and it doesn't surprise Dean that Cas isn't a leg-humping kind of guy…angel…thing.
"Uh, no, I don't mean leave. You want to pop that cherry or not?"
"Hmmm? No." Cas shudders and Dean's mouth is occupied again, and this time Cas has figured out exactly what he is doing and how he wants it done. Dean feels like a heroine in a bodice-ripper as Cas wraps his hands around his shoulders and relaxes over him, settling in for a long haul of making out. Dean figures anything to keep Cas' blood up (among other things) is a good idea, and since he's already on the bottom and going to be staying there for a while he might as well enjoy it. Their legs are threaded together, thighs firmly pressed to groins, so Dean picks up his outer leg and sets it on the bumper, easing the strain on his lower back. The move rolls his hips a bit into Cas, who stops mid-kiss to utter a gut-wrenching moan. The kiss picks back up with a lot more heat as Cas starts rocking his whole body gently against Dean.
Playing for time, Dean opens his mouth a bit wider and after a bit of fighting for room manages to start tongue fucking Cas' mouth. He picks up the rhythm with his hips and Cas is totally on board, at least at first, and things rock along on the car's suspension until Cas bangs his hips down on Dean so hard it hurts, then springs backwards.
"Hey, what? It's just getting good." Dean props himself up on his elbows to figure out what it going on. Cas is sweating and his lips, normally so pale and soft looking, seem swollen. In the moonlight it is hard to tell but Dean bets they are flushed red, and he smirks, finally looking up at Cas' eyes.
"Is it always this…intense?" Cas asks in gasps, listing to the side, as if Dean broke him. Dean suspects he did, and takes no small measure of pride in that. Go Team Winchester.
"No. This is deluxe treatment. Not everyone is allowed to molest the hood of my car." He pats the hood.
"It is surprising."
"Only to you, Cas." Dean smirks some more and glances down Cas' body, to where his dick is tenting his pants. "It only gets better from here. What do you say we get to bumping boots?"
Cas looks at him as if he is insane.
"I mean, let's…you know, do it. Here, I'll talk you through it." He stands up and wonders when he turned into a 12 year old unable to say the word "sex" without choking, but he is – maybe it is the angel factor – and he waves Cas over impatiently to hide his discomfort. The destination is clear before them, but Dean has no fucking clue how to get there, because as nervous as Cas was at the whore house, Dean knows he is probably twice that by now and without a beer to ease things along. Dean can not just drop trou and expect Cas to do…anything. Much less anything right, outside of the fantastic kissing thing, and Dean is not one for painful sex despite that one time in Telluride which was ten years ago anyway.
"We could…just keep…kissing?" Cas says the last word like he's never said it before, and Dean raises his eyebrow because Cas sounds like the twelve year old now.
"Did you miss the part where I said you aren't dying a virgin? Just how exactly did you expect that to happen?" Dean smiles and starts to unbutton Cas' shirt, just to get it open, despite the undershirt. They won't get to naked, but Dean's shirt is already shoved up to his armpits and he wants some kind of reciprocity.
"This body is not a virgin, Dean." Cas looks serious, studying Dean's expression, and he schools his features.
"Yeah, Jimmy managed to bust a nut, but that's him. This is you, man: Castiel. YOU." Dean flaps open the shirt and pokes him in the chest. "You, the angel, the one who's been around for thousands of years and probably never even touched yourself." Dean is not altogether sure where his argument is going, but it is important, because Cas has this body and he is going to lose it, lose everything, and never even really know what it means to be human. That's it, he thinks desperately, that is his whole point: Cas would not understand how it feels, really feels, to be human. That is the most important thing in the world right now, although Dean is not sure why. He shoves at Cas' chest again, knowing he won't move the angel an inch he does not want to move, and he feels his temper starting to unravel because needs Cas to understand this, right now.
"Live it up a little before you fucking DIE, okay?" Which apparently means he has not really sharpened his debating skills after all that time with Sam, so instead he grabs Cas' coat lapels to drag him back into another, more angry than not, chomping on Cas' lips and pushing his hips into him with as much blatancy as he can push.
Cas grabs his face and pulls him back with a stern look that is almost betrayal.
"Do. Not. Mock. Me." Cas shakes him by his head as if he is a bad puppy and if that did not scramble Dean's brains at first, Cas' words did at last. He blinks back his disorientation, held firmly between Cas' impossibly strong hands, and just stares. Cas narrows his eyes and kisses him, a long, drawn out kiss full of tongue and teeth, Cas taking extended moments to stop and suck on Dean's lower lip until it becomes annoying as fuck and Dean sticks his tongue into Cas' mouth to get him to stop. Cas whimpers, and Dean's clutching at him now, plastering himself up against the other man.
Something between them has changed, Dean isn't too stupid to miss that: Cas is taking this seriously, Cas is working him with his mouth, and Dean isn't saying 'no' no matter how weird it is because, hell, he started it. But kissing like this is way more personal than taking it up the ass, it's almost painful and he can barely breathe. He knows he needs to get to the fucking before it all gets out of control, although part of him suspects he left that road marker behind them a few turns ago.
They are leaning against the car, the bumper pushing into the backs of Dean's knees. Cas is kissing him to within an inch of his life, making urgent noises in the back of his throat. Part of Dean thinks he would not let this go on if he did not think that Cas wasn't going to die in a few hours, because these kisses are more than promises, they are oaths and Cas can do this to him all night because not dying a virgin is clearly second place to…whatever is going on here, that Dean refuses to think about any more. He drops his hands and undoes his belt and jeans. Cas isn't bothered and doesn't seem to care, locking his arms around Dean's back and pulling them together. Dean elbows him back.
"Okay! Okay. I get it. You care."
"I need you," Cas says plainly, gripping Dean's upper arms so hard Dean's eyes nearly tear up. He stops with his hand on his zipper, his dick trying to poke out of his underwear.
"I got that." Dean answers cautiously.
"And you…you offer me this…between us. I am humbled, Dean." Cas leans in again as if to kiss him, but speaks into his mouth instead. "I am awed."
Which, coming from an Angel of the Lord to him, Dean Winchester with his dick hanging out his pants, scares the shit out of Dean. This situation not only missed that left turn at Albuquerque, it fucking burned rubber past it. He feels Cas' hands on his own, hovering over his cock.
"I am innocent of the ways of the flesh – angels have no need for love outside of worship for our Father and our pure affection for each other. But do not mistake my inexperience for naivety, or ignorance. I have watched humans from the dawn of time." Cas smiles shyly, and Dean thinks hysterically that Cas just admitted to being some kind of perverted angelic peeping tom, but his thoughts blank out when Cas pulls his pants open, shoves his legs apart and steps in even closer.
"God gave me to you, but I never expected that you would give yourself to me." Cas is giving him The Squinty Look of Sincerity as he palms Dean's cock and Dean can't do anything but moan for a moment.
He manages to pull the leaking contents of his brain together. "I hope…I hope God is understanding of that."
Cas gently rests his face in Dean's neck, cupping his balls and going completely still. "I'm not what I was."
It is all he says and he does not move, and Dean gets it then. They are looking for God because God is missing; Cas is here because Heaven won't have him; if Cas does not die in the morning, chances were good he'll die the day after – Armageddon and all that – and Dean has nothing to offer him other than this. Absolutely fucking nothing.
Yet Cas pulled Dean out of Hell, fought for him, fought with him, broke every rule and is trapped in this body that he is probably going to finally die in. Being human might be all the life he has left to live.
Dean pushes up, hands braced on the hood, shoving into Cas' personal space and rubbing his cheek against his dark, thick, unruly hair. Cas shudders in response.
Dean picks up his hands from the hood and pulls Cas in closer, trapping Cas' arm between them, his hand nestled in between Dean's legs. Dean tips his head up to take in a deep breath, because he has so much more to offer here than "carnal relations", more than fucking, and no time to give it. A lifetime in one night? A fucking cliché but then Dean's whole life is full of clichés, usually of the horror movie variety and not the chick-flick kind, but still, it is something he's used to.
Doesn't mean he's going to stand here in the dark and talk about it.
Cas is a lot more pliable after his admission, even with the marathon kissing thing kicking back in. Doggy style on the hood while still half-dressed is not exactly the romantic Hallmark moment this particular cliché calls for, but it is the best he's got, and anyway, the Impala is a sexy car. That counts.
"Okay, here…I need to turn over." Dean shoves and pushes, but gets no resistance because Castiel stands up.
"No."
"Trust me, it works better…hey!" Feeling exposed enough with his jeans at his knees and his underwear barely holding his dick in, Dean is unprepared for Cas to drop down and start taking off his shoes. Or, actually, just one shoe. Standing back up, Cas shoves down Dean's underwear and grabs his thigh, pulling his left leg out of both jeans and briefs, setting it to rest on the bumper, and Dean is too taken off guard to argue or question. His bare ass is flat on the hood now, and Dean glares at Cas, because it is cold and not doing wonders for his hard-on. "What the fuck."
"I want to watch you."
Dean nods and blinks, because this was not quite the conversation he expected to have. Cas is shucking off his trench coat and jacket and unbuckling his belt like he's getting ready for a dip in the pool, and Dean's gaze starts drifting lower. He reaches out a hand to brush over Cas' erection curiously, and Cas gasps but slaps Dean's hand away.
"I want this. I get this. I have fought…" Cas snaps his pants open. "I have lied…" He unzips. "I have been betrayed and abandoned…" He shoves pants and underwear down and Dean barely has time to register holy crap he's hung before Cas is back in his space, leaning over him. "I have been reduced, and I may die…" He grabs Dean's naked leg and pulls it up, resting Dean's knee over his shoulder, and Dean scrambles to brace himself. "And all this for YOU, a man I was ordered to love. And love you, I shall."
"Oh, fuck…" Dean feels exposed because he is, his ass hanging in the wind, and if it weren't for Cas pressing against him he would fall off the hood and break something. He grabs for any part of Cas that isn't moving, and braces himself, because he's pretty sure nothing is stopping the Angel Train. His own dick is revived and heavy and flopping against his stomach, twitching and almost painful, and Dean feels Cas' dick pushing up between his ass cheeks. He takes a deep breath, and stutters it out in surprise when he feels the lubed finger rubbing against his hole.
"I won't hurt you." Cas looks belligerent, as if he is expecting an argument from Dean while shoving a finger up his ass. Dean nods twice and lays back down, breathing deeply at the intrusion, glad yet frustrated that he's lost control of this whole thing.
Cas holds Dean's hip down with his free hand, his dick rubbing against Dean's ass cheek while he fingers him. Dean finally closes his eyes and lets it happen, because this was the plan from the start anyway, and Cas is taking things in the right direction all on his own. He thinks that it is rather stupid, in retrospect, to assume that he would have to teach anything to an angel who has been watching humans for unending millennia, but not having that to focus on leaves him nothing but his own body's needs – and his own desires, his want and lust and love. He can name it, in his head, because he's not a coward and when it's love, it's love. It has been too close between them for too long to be any different.
Cas shifts on his feet and Dean knows it's happening now, before Cas even pulls his fingers out. "Yeah, c'mon, I'm ready." He bounces against Cas' hold on his hip, and for the first time since he started with his fingers, Cas looks up at his face. In the moonlight his expression is dark and foreboding, but his eyes gleam with what Dean hopes is anticipation, or wonderment, or something good. Cas gives him a curt nod and leans over him closely, nearly folding Dean in half with his free leg still slung up over Cas' shoulder.
"Kiss me," Cas whispers and Dean does, peeling one hand off the hood to grab at Cas' hair, to hold him place, and something Cas' does sends a chill down his spine and he misses completely the moment when Cas' breaches him. He gasps with the realization of it, more than the sensation, and stares. Cas smiles, his eyes glazed and his face relaxed in a way that Dean has never seen before as he drinks in the sight of Dean beneath him. Dean has never felt so exposed, and he thinks he can even count being tortured in Hell as less personal than this. Cas brushes his nose against Dean's chin, like a cat rubbing up on him. "I told you, I won't hurt you."
Dean nods, and bucks a little to feel Cas sink in deeper. "So, how's the deflowing thing going, here?" He gasps a little.
"You're or mine?" Cas smiles – actually fucking smiles, and Dean tries to laugh but snorts, because he's folded up like a twink with an angel's cock up his ass. "I think it goes…oh…" Cas blinks as he pushes all the way in, then freezes.
"Pretty good, huh?" Dean gasps the words, smiling at the stunned expression on Cas' face. Cas nods, then nods again, and Dean thinks maybe it is time for him to reassert his authority. He rolls his hips, and Cas drops his head onto Dean's shoulder with a groan. Dean grins, because he's got it now – he's got Cas, and he can finish this. He yanks Cas' head over to him by his hair and starts kissing him again, rolling his hips again in a slow rhythm. Cas is a fast learner and picks up on it quickly, and their pace changes from slow and uncertain to steady and hard pretty quickly. The position is not the best one for angle or agility, and Dean pushes against Cas' chest, feeling the heat of him through the thin cotton undershirt.
"Prop yourself up. On you hands." He gets his leg off Cas' shoulder, wrapping it around his waist while pushing himself up with his other foot on the bumper. Cas is set on his hands, his head dropping down between his shoulders, still thrusting in and out of Dean's body but in slower, more measured strokes. Dean rubs Cas' chest in encouragement as he settles back down. "Yeah, okay, angle in and SHIT!" Dean slams his head on the hood, oblivious to the pain radiating through his skull, when Cas nails his prostate with a wicked and unexpected twist of his hips. Dean gasps as Cas does it again, and God, he's missed that. He uncrosses his eyes to look up at Cas, who is solidly braced on his hands, and shaking apart, the open shirt fluttering from the night wind around them. "Do it. Don't hold back. You won't hurt me, remember? C'mon, do it!"
Cas seems to growl, his lips curling back in a grimace, and he starts pumping into Dean with a fast, heavy thrusting that would make Dean puke if it didn't feel so goddamn good. He knows Cas could keep going at it all night but he is desperate to see Cas come, and he won't hold out much longer anyway. He fumbles for his cock and pulls at it a few times, awkward with Cas pummeling up against him over and over, until he feels it start.
"Fuck yeah, Cas, baby, hey, baby, I'm coming…I'm….Cas!" Dean curls up when his orgasm swamps him, pushing his face into Cas' sweaty neck and groaning as his cock spills out over his hand and stomach. He holds it for a moment and tries to look at Cas, who has not stopped but is watching him with a dazed wonderment. As the last of it stutters through him, Dean mouths instinctively on Cas' neck as he urges him on. "Oh Jesus, Cas, c'mon, baby, do it…"
"Oh…Dean…beloved…ah…ah…" Cas is stuttering and completely lost in it, incoherent and babbling and slamming his hips into Dean. "I want…please, oh, please…" His voice turns to a sob as he begs, and Dean throws caution to the wind to wrap his hands around Cas' locked upper arms.
"Just like…Cas, look, just like…yours…fuck…"
Cas' expression clears enough to look at the hold Dean has on his arm, a mirror of the mark so visible on Dean's own arm, and Cas lets out a choked cry when he falls into his climax, practically gagged on his own desperate groan. He collapses down onto Dean like a lead weight as he spills himself, twitching in aftershocks.
"I love you." The words are mumbled after a few silent moments into Dean's skin, the low vibrations of Cas' voice singing along his hyper-senstive nerves. "I have loved you from the moment I pulled you from Perdition. I was sent to love you. I thought…it would not be any different."
"Shhh." Dean pets Cas, running his fingers through his silky, human hair, and wonders why he thought this would change anything.
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