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“I’m getting my own room. In the meantime, you two figure it out!” Sam bellows, halting his brother and the angel mid-argument. He looks first at Dean and then at Castiel, then shakes his head and gestures between the two of them. “Figure. It. Out.”
The slamming door rings loudly in the sudden silence of the motel room. They’re on a case in the middle of some nowhere town, and Dean and Cas have been at it for the past several hours. It started with mild bickering over the fastest way to cut across three states, to petty jabs traded in the diner they stopped at a few towns back, to outright yelling by the time they checked into the hotel. It seems Sam has reached his limit for the night, leaving the two of them alone with their grievances.
Castiel sighs and walks over to the bed Sam was originally going to occupy, taking a seat on its edge and casting a beleagured glance in Dean’s direction. Dean huffs and makes a motion with his hands, unsure how to dispel the restlessness of their unresolved fight. He is aware of Castiel’s eyes on him as he rifles through his bag and pulls out a soft t-shirt. His back is still turned when one of them finally speaks.
“We should have intercourse.” Castiel’s voice is deep and even, like what he’s said is of no particular consequence.
Dean freezes, holding the shirt dumbly in his hand and swallowing thickly to keep his heart from leaping out of his chest. He keeps his back turned to Cas, because he is not prepared to see those steely blue eyes staring into his literal soul right now. “Excuse me?!”
Castiel glares at the back of Dean with a long suffering look, then sighs and repeats himself as though he hasn’t just said something utterly insane. “I said, we should have intercourse.” In case Dean has somehow misunderstood what the angel has in mind, he adds, “Copulation.”
Soft fabric slips from Dean’s useless fingers and falls back into the bag it had been pulled out of. Dean feels himself breathing in and out, but it’s like there is no oxygen left in the air. He feels lightheaded. Cas.. Castiel, Angel of the Lord, thinks they should fuck. Slowly, cautiously he turns and looks at Cas, who is watching him with an expression that suggests he thinks Dean is being silly about something inconsequential.
Dean wills his heart rate to return to something acceptable for human beings and pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to assemble his very disjointed thoughts. He keeps his eyes closed when he speaks, because there is no way he can have this fucking conversation with Cas looking at him. “Ye-yeah, Cas, I heard you, buddy. Why would w-” He has a thousand questions, and he wants the answers to exactly none of them. “What made y-?” He sputters, at a complete loss. “I’m not gay, Cas!”
“Dean.” Dean’s eyes snap open from behind the hand still covering his face - he’s not hiding! - and Cas is glaring at him again. Dean’s traitorous pulse quickens the way it always does when the angel gets particularly smite-y. Nope! He’s not thinking about that.
Cas holds him with an intense glare as he continues speaking to Dean in that deep, gravelly voice of his. The one that Dean does not ever notice or care about. “Being homosexual is not a requirement for having intercourse with me, and our coupling would not change your sexuality. I am merely suggesting it as a way to resolve the tension between us.” He shrugs as though he doesn’t particularly care one way or the other, but there's something in Cas’ eyes that makes Dean think the angel is less impassive about the subject than he's letting on.
Dean doesn’t know how to touch any of that with a ten-foot pole (why is everything phallic all of the sudden?!), so he tries another angle (and okay, his brain seriously needs to cut it out with the unintentional innuendo). “But, I mean.. you’re an angel. Is that even something you…?”
Why is Dean continuing this conversation instead of shutting this whole thing down? Fuck if Dean knows - just like he doesn’t know why his heart is racing in his chest like he just outran a pack of cross-fit loving vamps, or why it feels like something is caught in his throat. Most of all, he has no earthly idea why Little Dean has perked up to take note of this very unwelcome conversation.
“If you are asking if I would ‘be interested’ in having sexual relations with you, the answer is yes.” Cas makes actual air quotes with his hands, and some of Dean’s tightly held defenses must be slipping, because a secret part of him acknowledges how cute it is. “You are a very attractive man, Dean, and my observations suggest you would be a very attentive lover.”
“Observations?? You been spyin’ on me while I get down and dirty, Cas?” Dean means to sound accusatory, but what comes out is more akin to a flirtatious purr. He waggles his eyebrows, doubling down for lack of any dignified way to backtrack it. Somehow Dean is now several steps closer to Cas, and he blinks as though unsure of how exactly that happened.
For a moment, the two just stay like that - Castiel sitting on the bed looking up at Dean and Dean, who is hovering in front of the angel full of nervous energy and looking ready to bolt at any moment. Castiel stands then, causing Dean to take an instinctive step back to regain some semblance of personal space. Why had he been standing so close? After what feels like forever, Cas speaks in a low timbre that vibrates through Dean’s tense body. “You… are a frustrating man, Dean Winchester.”
Dean furrows his brow as Castiel frowns up at him. He should take another step back, create more space. Castiel is standing with his legs brushing against the foot of the bed, and Dean is so close he can smell the angel’s unqiue, ozone scent. He should turn and walk to the other bed and throw on a movie, forget this whole conversation even happened. So why does his stupid mouth decide to go with, “And you suck at flirting.”
Castiel’s frown deepens, almost comical in its intensity. Dean feels a shiver run down his spine. After a beat where their eyes stay locked in silent stand off, Cas says, “That was not a flirtation.”
He seems to search Dean’s face for a moment, and Dean is terrified at what the angel might find there. Castiel moves slowly, slow enough that Dean has all the opportunity in the world to back away, to cut him off. Instead, he stands stock still, swallowing thickly as Cas trails a finger along the cut of his jaw, humming appreciatively. “No, a flirtation would be more like..” His eyes dart from where they are following the trail of his finger and meet Dean’s.
When he speaks again, his gravel-road voice is lower than Dean has ever heard it, and it sends another jolt of sensation down his back. “I know every. single. erogenous zone on your body.” Cas punctuates each word with a corresponding touch in rapid succession - a ghost of a touch in the soft spot beneath Dean’s ear, a possessive squeeze to his hip, a tug of the short hair at the nape of his neck.
Castiel leans forward until there is no space between them and nips at Dean’s ear, causing the man to let out a stifled moan. He continues his devastatingly effective ‘flirtation’ as a low murmur, lips brushing against Dean’s ear with every word. “And if you would let me, Dean, I would use every one of them to bring you levels of satisfaction rarely accessible to mortals. I would make your body sing for me, Dean.” Castiel nips at his ear again, hearing Dean gasp and reveling in the way it felt to touch him like this.
Dean can’t breathe, can’t think. He’s hard and twitching in his jeans and he can’t even remember what they were yelling at each other about before Cas dropped this bombshell on him. Fuck, he is so turned on. It isn’t fair, what Castiel is doing to him. Using his own body against him, confusing him and making him feel and think things he doesn’t want to face right now. The anger he’d been feeling before returns now, breaking whatever spell the angel was casting on him. He takes a step back, ignoring the part of him that registers a feeling of loss. He gears himself up to go back to fighting with Cas instead - something that actually makes sense, and doesn’t scare him quite so much. “Fuck you, man! What the fuck?”
Despite being the one crowding Cas against the mattress, he feels like a cornered animal, so he reacts just the way one would expect of a cornered animal. He lashes out. Or, he tries to, anyway. He brings his hands up with the intention of shoving Cas square in the chest but before he makes contact the angel grabs him by the wrists in an iron grip, looking at Dean like he is absolutely done.
In a move so fast Dean can’t clock it, he finds himself face down on the mattress with his arms pinned behind his back. Castiel is straddling his legs just beneath his ass, pinning him down completely. Dean thrashes ineffectively as his dick jumps and his mind reels. Castiel shifts from where he is perched on Dean’s legs, leaning hard into his hold on Dean’s arms as he leans down to whisper in his ear again.
“Do you want to know something, Dean?” Cas doesn’t wait for an answer, just squeezes Dean’s wrists harder, hard enough to bruise. Dean wars with his body and his brain. Indignity, arousal and fury vie for first place as he wriggles in vain. “I can feel certain emotions. Fear… anger… desire.” Cas shifts his hips so Dean can feel his hardness through the thin layers of fabric between it and Dean’s ass.
“And here’s the thing, Dean.” Cas ignores Dean’s ineffective attempts to dislodge himself from beneath the angel. He’s tired of playing this game, tired of the bickering they do because Dean can’t acknowledge his own feelings. He leans in once more, nipping at Dean’s earlobe with less gentleness than he displayed before losing his patience. The words are said in a whisper, but they strike Dean like a physical blow. “You want me so badly it makes you look stupid.” Castiel’s lips curve into a smile against Dean’s ear as the man lets out an unconvincing sound of protest not unlike a whimper.
Dean wants to deny it, but the part of him he’s kept locked away since he was a young boy living in fear of his father seems determined to break free. His body gives up some of its fight, and he feels his dick winning the battle over his logical brain. “Cas..” He tries to make it sound like a warning, he should stop this now before they cross a line they can’t uncross. Yet.. yet the way Cas is taking charge is almost a relief. He could just.. let go. Let this thing happen, consequences be damned, just to feel something other than pain and monotony.
Castiel releases his hold on Dean’s arms, which fall limply to his sides as the full weight of the angel presses the man deeper into the mattress. He lets his body drape over the hunter’s muscular form as a hand wanders up and pulls Dean’s head up by his hair. Dean gasps, shifting beneath Cas in a way that has them both biting back moans. “Tell me to stop, Dean.” Cas challenges as he banishes the majority of their clothing with a thought, leaving them both clad in only their undergarments. He ruts against Dean’s ass, running his hands along the hard planes of Dean’s back. “Tell me you don’t want me to touch you like this..”
Dean gasps, writhing beneath Castiel in a way unfit for any earnest attempt at escape. Cas’ hands and mouth are everywhere and Dean knows all he has to do is say the word and this will end.. so why isn’t he stopping this? Fuck, why does the thought of Cas stopping now sound like the worst thing ever? Castiel sinks his teeth into just the right spot on Dean’s shoulder, who lets out a mortifying sound against his will as he jolts from the pleasurepain of it. He didn’t even know he had a spot there, but Cas must be making good on his promise from earlier, and Dean is not a strong enough man to say no to this anymore. “Cas…”
Castiel begins kissing a trail down Dean’s back. He slips his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s boxers and pulls them down as he ventures southward with his lips. He slips them off completely while his lips linger just above the curve of Dean’s ass. “Tell me to stop, Dean.” Cas’ voice is thick, like he’s holding himself back. He runs a hand along the outside of Dean’s thigh as he continues leaving soft, shaky kisses along the hunter’s lower back.
“Tell me you don’t want me to claim you for a second time.” Castiel lets his hand wander up to Dean’s ass briefly before returning to drawing slow circles on the man’s thigh.
Dean moans as his dick twitches and releases a generous amount of pre-come. Repression be damned, he does want that. He wants Cas. Fuck, at this point, he needs Cas. He needs Castiel to fuck him, and he’ll worry about what that means for him and for the two of them later. “Cas, Cas.. please..” Dean’s face heats up in an instant as he tries to vocalize his consent.
Castiel’s hand wanders back up to Dean’s ass, while his mouth moves down. He thumbs at a cheek, exposing Dean’s hole to the cold air for a breathstealing moment before diving in with his tongue. Dean keens, hips bucking wildly as he waivers between rocking them into and out of the reach of Castiel’s probing tongue. The angel has the audacity to throw out a teasing, “Please what, Dean?” in between enthusiastically eating the man out.
Dean lifts his ass, willing Cas to lick into him deeper as he moans a garbled version of the angel’s name. He feels a strange sensation, a touch of cool fire lighting him up from the inside as Castiel’s grace-slicked fingers join in to drive Dean further out of his already fractured mind. “F-“ Dean is breathless, out of his mind with want, but he manages to force the words out in between gasps of pleasure he can no longer bite back. “F-fuck me, Castiel!”
The angel lets out a growl that goes straight to Dean’s dick. His fingers continue to pump into Dean as he pulls back to take in the sight. Dean is shamelessly fucking himself on Castiel’s fingers, clutching at a pillow with a white-knuckled grip as he moans and begs the angel to fuck him already. Castiel takes a trembling breath and uses his considerable power to stave off an early end for himself. Dean whines as the angel’s fingers slip out of his readied hole, but Castiel takes himself in hand and is sliding into him in a slow, measured glide before he has time to mourn the loss.
“Ohhhhhhhh, fuck..” Dean’s words are slurred, his eyes rolling back as he adjusts to the very new sensation of having a dick inside him. He’d dabbled here and there with other boys before his dad caught wind and scared him straight (literally), but never did anything like this, especially not on the receving end. Now, he can’t believe anything could ever feel this good, and Castiel isn’t even moving yet. Speaking of which, Cas should definitely be moving. “Move, angel.” Dean rocks his hips encouragingly, showing Cas that whatever mojo he’d used has successfully kept pain out of the equation.
The motion makes them both cry out, and Castiel’s hips begin to piston into Dean on instinct as pleasure like he’s never known courses all the way through the tips of his wings. Dean pushes back into him in perfect rhythm, taking Cas as deep as he can with every frantic thrust. He slips his hands behind his back again in a similar position to the one Castiel had them in earlier. Castiel takes note of this and locks Dean’s wrists beneath one hand, pressing in to pin him down more firmly and using his free hand to pull his head up by the hair again.
“You like it when I’m rough with you, don’t you, Dean?” Castiel fucks into Dean’s pliant body with almost brutal force, while the hunter wails and sobs. A dark thrill washes over Castiel at Dean’s clear enjoyment of being dominated like this by the angel. “Tell me you want to be in charge.”
Dean’s head, still forced up from the pillow by Castiel’s grip in his hair, shakes back and forth. Castiel tugs his hair tighter and Dean lets out a long, loud moan as his hips begin to falter in their rhythm, letting the angel pound his battered hole as he sputters and gasps.
The angel growls again, reveling in this new side of Dean, pliant and mewling under Castiel’s command. “Mmm, I didn’t suspect so.” Cas’ voice remained even despite the intensity of his movements, which only made it hotter to Dean. He’s being pounded within an inch of his life but Cas is barely exerting himself at all it seems. Dean lets out another lewd moan and comes untouched for the first time in his adult life when Cas whispers a soft, “You’re being so good for me, Dean.”
Castiel’s hands release their respective holds only to slip down to Dean’s hips to anchor him in place while the angel chases his pleasure in the hunter’s fucked-out body. As he approached his climax, his voice finally started to falter, coming out rough and breathy as he pounded Dean into near oversensitivity. “I’m going… ah.. going to release inside you. Show you… ohh, Dean.. show you who you belong to. Want you to… fuck… f-feel it.. feel it leaking out of you.”
Dean’s spent dick twitches and he uses his waning strength to meet the last few of Castiel’s stuttering thrusts. “‘m yours, Cas. I’m all yours.” He wails as Cas bites that same spot on his shoulder.
“Mine..” Castiel lets out an awed whisper as he unleashes a hot, sticky torrent inside of Dean. There is an electric buzz in the room, and Castiel realizes his eyes are glowing. He blinks and focuses until the lights brighten and the hum goes away. He slides out of Dean slowly, already missing the feel of being inside the man. He collapses to Dean’s side, resisting the urge to read the hunter’s mind.
Dean turns his head to face Castiel with a dopey smile, and the angel realizes with regret that he hadn’t kissed the man while he had the chance. He isn’t sure if Dean will want to do something like this with him again, though a small part of him finds hope in that soft smile still adorning the man’s beautiful face. “Heya, angel.”
Castiel smiles back at him. He almost reaches out to touch the hunter but hesistates, his hand hovering in the space between them as he questions what is allowed. Dean’s smile never waivers as he brings his own hand up, lacing his fingers through Castiel’s and sliding closer until their hands are trapped between their chests. “Hello, Dean.”
Dean laughs, a fond and genuine sound Castiel rarely hears from the man. He is delighted to be the cause of it, though he is uncertain of what he said that warranted such a reaction. His confusion must show in his expression, because Dean only laughs again before squeezing the other man’s hand. Dean bites his lip as his eyes dart around Castiel’s face, then leans in so close the angel can feel his hot breath. “Don’t ever change.”
Cas’ befuddled “okay?” is lost in the quiet chaos of Dean’s lips meeting his. Dean’s hand moves up to cup Castiel’s cheek and pull him in for another, deeper kiss. A pained noise of relief, like coming up for air after holding your breath for a lifetime, springs from Castiel’s lips as they rush to meet Dean’s again and again.
Sam yawns and runs a hand through his hair as he walks down the hall, hoping Dean and Cas managed to make it through the night without killing each other. He’s humming the tune of a jingle that’s been stuck in his head off and on since they drove through Kansas when he slides the spare keycard into the slot and opens the door.
Dean is sitting up against the headboard of one bed, staring at Sam in the doorway like he’s just seen a ghost. He has an odd expression on his face that Sam is too tired to decipher. “Come on, we gotta be on the road in twenty minutes.”
Sam looks around the room, noticing the other bed appears untouched. It’s not that surprising given Castiel doesn’t actually need to sleep, but knowing his brother’s skill for pissing the angel off he assumes he probably left in a flurry of wings and rolling eyes. His attention elsewhere, Sam fails to notice the distinctly uncomfortable energy his older brother is currently radiating. “Where’s Cas? Did you two kiss and make up or are we gonna be down one angel because you’re allergic to playing nice?”
“Uhh..” Dean clears his throat, drawing Sam’s eyes back to him. Some delayed situational awareness kicks into gear, and Sam takes in Dean’s odd demeanor with narrowed eyes.
Before he has the chance to ask his brother why he’s being so weird right now, he hears a muffled voice that is not Dean from the vicinity of the bed. “I’ll be there.” With mounting horror, Sam sees the pile of blankets at Dean’s waist shift as a dark head of hair pops into view.
Castiel awkwardly extricates himself from his hiding place beneath the blanket and arranges himself next to Dean, who looks torn between laughing and running to the bathroom to hide. Cas’ hair is more rumpled than usual and he casts a sheepish glance Sam’s way as he makes a failed attempt to sort it out. He unsubtly wipes a hand across his mouth. “Hello, Sam.”
The rough quality of the angel’s voice is the camel that breaks Sam’s back, and he recoils with a grimace. “I’m never sharing a room with you two again. Congratulations but if I stay here another second I’m gonna vomit. Fifteen minutes!” Sam runs out of the room without a backward glance, repeating the mantra of “at least they’re not fighting!” as he considers whether the bunker has the necessary ingredients for a memory spell.