Chapter Text
"Sorry, run that one by me again, would ya, Cas?"
"I want you to kiss me," Castiel repeated candidly. "I have wanted to for some time, and what with us being alone, I have decided that now would be the most advantageous moment." Dean's mouth opened and closed like a goldfish eating and he set his beer down on the table, next to the ancient book that reeked of dust.
"O...kay," he said finally, rising to his feet. "I mean, I don't guess I could exactly deny you...you ever kissed anyone before?" Castiel nodded.
"On occasion. I believe you were there for one of my most...memorable," he answered, no trace of awkwardness in his words.
"Oh. Yeah. Kinda tried to put it out of my mind..." Dean shrugged, trying to play it off despite the feelings of jealousy that came coursing back. Castiel broke out into an honest to god grin and sat down beside Dean, chair turned to face him.
"You aren't perhaps jealous, are you?" he asked, the slightest teasing edge to his voice. Dean reprised his goldfish imitation, twice in one conversation with Castiel-a record. Truth was, the angel had him dead to rights, but he wasn't about to say that, although he would have to eventually. It depended, he supposed, on how the kiss went.
"I-what?-no. No," he said eventually, emphaticness feeling a little forced and sounding even more so. Castiel's grin shrunk to a smirk and he nodded, obviously smug.
"Of course," he replied, unconvinced. "Now, are you going to kiss me or aren't you?"
"I mean, if you-"
Damn it, Dean thinks angrily, all the times you've thought about doing this and when the chance comes you're acting like a freaking teenager?
"I do, Dean. You needn't make so much of it," Castiel assured him, reaching up and taking his hand. And as cheesy as that might sound, the skin-on-skin contact (especially in the context) that has always felt and will always feel somehow so natural and so right, makes him decide that yes, this is really what he wants, and yes, if Castiel is to be believed, this is what he wants, too.
"Yeah, alright," he agreed. God knows he was no prude or anything, but Cas was...different, to him. With him, what he feels isn't the fiery burn in the pit of his stomach that rages for a while and then vanishes. No, with Castiel, it's like a slow heat, enduring and long-lasting and yet still somehow searing and urgent. It's strange, to say the least.
The drag of Castiel's thumb across Dean's wrist brought him back to reality, his mind returning eagerly to Castiel's request. He rested his hand on the base of Castiel's neck and almost instinctively, the angel moved towards the touch.
"Okay?" Dean asked. Castiel rolled his eyes.
"Dean, you need to stop handling me like I am made of paper," he replied. "I am an adult. I am experienced. And I can appreciate some roughness." Dean smirked. Yeah, he could definitely get behind a little roughness.
Encouraged, Dean leaned forward and pressed their lips together, moving his own slowly against the angel's. Castiel kisses like he behaves, Dean discovered-intense and slow and with an eerie kind of depth. It's the kind of kiss that Dean feels everywhere, that travels up and down his spine like a strength tester at a carnival, rippling from his lips down to his fingertips, down to his toes, hitting everywhere in between (and some spots stronger than others, to be sure.) He trailed one hand down his chest to grab the lapels of that dirty old trenchcoat Cas always wore and pull it, so Cas was tugged closer. Lurching forward, the angel practically tumbled into his lap, and Dean breathed a little laugh against his mouth. Not what he was shooting for, but this could absolutely do. He adjusted the pair of them, one hand gripping into Castiel's thigh in a way that made his, and consequentially Dean's, breath catch, so that the angel was straddling his legs. Cas was ever responsive to the change of position and took the opportunity to plant one hand on either side of Dean's face and, as Dean would put it later, "go for it." If his previous style wasn't shiver-worthy enough, this one was damn near enough to do Dean in all on its lonesome. It was hungry and heated, but not long and drawn out-Cas would kiss him, doing what he wished with Dean's pliant, full lips, and then withdraw his own mouth, leaving his face close enough that Dean could feel the ghost of his hot breath, and then lean back in to do it again. It was absolutely killing him, and after a particularly incendiary slip-slide of Dean's eager tongue against Cas' teasingly sealed lips, when Cas pulled away, Dean let out a genuine whine and then blushed instantly. Cas rewarded the simpering noise with a smirk. "What, Dean, this is not enough for you?" he teased wickedly, and Dean could barely hold back another pleading whine. "What more could you possibly ask from me?" he asked, all innocence that Dean was fairly certain was feigned. His thoughts were difficult to wrangle-most of them weren't coming from his brain, after all-but when he got them together all he could manage was, "Wha-what happened to innocent virgin Cas?" Castiel chuckled darkly.
"I could certainly revert to my old, sheltered facade, if you wished, but by the feel and look of things I don't think you do." Dean shook his head wordlessly. "Now, what more could you want from me? How could I possibly satisfy you?"
"You know damn well..."
"I want you to say it."
That wicked, winged bastard.
"Cas. I want you to fuck me," Dean breathed. The whole room faded away, it seemed, and a smirking Cas leaned down and captured Dean's lips with his own, a promise in the kiss that Dean hoped he would fulfil damn soon.