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Part One
The weather was miserable outside but it promised to be hot as hell inside. The mere thought made Dean smirk to himself without humour. As hot as hell. Yeah, he knew how hot hell could get and there were no strippers there last time he’d checked, unless they’d been reduced to tormented souls, the likes of which all blurred into one endless stream of suffering.
Still wearing the suits they used to impersonate FBI agents they flashed their fake badges at the bouncer, though unknown to them the beefy guy guarding the door would have let them through any way – they looked like the right sort, dressed well, the kind of client the joint needed instead of the sleazy blokes looking to cop a feel without paying their buck.
Dean had been to a lot of strip joints. A lot of ‘em. This one was no different to a hundred others he had seen, the girls all doing their scantily clad thing on stage, gyrating and grinding their hips, dollars tucked into panties of cheap lace, satin and lycra.
Despite his feigned enthusiasm earlier he had no interested in any of the girls. He was here on business, not for pleasure. Not like he could really get any pleasure out of watching the girls swing about their poles. Something in him had died when he went to hell and now he was a different man altogether. He couldn’t objectify women like that now, didn’t seek a quick cheap thrill the way he used to.
Maybe he was just tired. He didn’t know what was up with him but even Sam was picking up on it as he barely glanced at the girls on stage. He’d made a fuss of it before, trying to be his old self for the sake of his brother, acting like the concept of strippers was still a wonderful thing to him, like he couldn’t wait to get a lap-dance.
He just wanted to get the job done with.
They surmised that they were looking for three girls and Sam set about questioning the owner of the club, a balding man in his fifties. Sam recited the names Jasmine, Aurora and Ariel along with a brief description but received nothing for his efforts. Dean scanned the room, looking for any of the girls. Any time his gaze lingered on one of the girls she tried to catch his eye and entice him, thinking he was checking her out. His gaze moved elsewhere when he realised that it wasn’t the girl he was looking for.
“There’s a girl that matches Aurora’s description leaving through the back.” Sam said quietly to him, nodding his head towards the door. “I’ll follow her, you stay here and see if you can find the others.”
“Shouldn’t be chasin’ tail on the job, Sammy.” Dean chided playfully, receiving a flippant wave of the hand as Sam left him to get on with it.
He sighed and tugged the cuffs of his suit jacket. At the bar he ordered a beer and took it to a table far from the stage, walled in a little to allow for privacy. From here he could survey the whole room without gaining much attention. Hell, he could have sat front row for all the attention he’d get – a room full of horny straight men didn’t give a shit about some guy in a suit when there were women in bikini’s right in front of them.
“Hello Dean.” Said a familiar, low voice.
He’d been lost in thought, trying to figure out what they were dealing with while swigging from his beer, and hadn’t even noticed anyone come up to him.
In front of the table stood a man with dark hair and deep blue eyes, his jaw stubbled darkly, indigo tie loosened around his neck. Swathed in that beige trenchcoat was the angel Castiel.
An angel of the lord, in a strip joint.
“You must be desperate if you’re willingly coming to a place like this. Doesn’t the sight of so much flesh sear your angelic eyes?” He said sarcastically, noticing a subtle yet definite difference in the angel. “What is it? I’m working, I got no time for talk of devils and seals, Cas.”
“What do you think you will find in a strip joint, Dean?” Said the angel, still standing ominously in front of him, looking down at him when normally he would be looking up. He was a couple inches shorter than Dean, at least.
“You’d be surprised.” Dean muttered. “What do you want, Cas?”
Castiel stared at him in that calm way he had, the unnerving stare that made you feel uncomfortable, like a bug under a microscope, but there was a peculiar glimmer in his cobalt blue eyes that Dean had never seen before. Rather than feeling discomfort under the intense gaze Dean found that he couldn’t look away from it.
His eyes were so…mesmerising. The intense way he had of looking at you like he was looking into your soul sent chills through Dean. His face, strong featured as if chiselled from marble, always looked so hard, so set against expression, but his eyes – his eyes spoke volumes.
What were they saying tonight?
He couldn’t translate that look. It seemed to be telling him a thousand things at once. He just wished that the awkward angel would say something rather than just keep staring at him. As long as he stared at him, Dean stared back, eyes shifting from his eyes to his other features, lingering on his full, slightly parted lips.
“What do you want, Dean?” He eventually replied, deep gravelly voice jolting through Dean’s body like hot lightening. His voice. Christ, he’d forgotten how much he loved his voice.
Wait, what? Loved his voice? What the hell was wrong with him, thinking that kinda thing? It wasn’t even his voice, it was the voice of whatever poor son of a bitch he was using like a puppet. The thought disturbed him, that the handsome man standing in front of him wasn’t even Castiel, it was some guy he was inhabiting while on Earth. That for all the times he’d seen and talked to Castiel he had never seen his face before.
What did an angel even look like, any way? Beautiful and flawless with white feathery wings, a halo of light about their perfect heads like iconography portrayed them to look? If angels were supposed to look perfect, Castiel was pretty damn perfect as he was in Dean’s eyes, even if that wasn’t his true appearance.
Shaking his head to clear his mind, he turned Castiel’s question over in his mind. Nobody ever asked him that. Nobody ever asked what he wanted, what he needed. It was a startling question solely because he was not prepared for it and never really dwelt on it, never considered what he wanted from life now that he had a second chance at it.
“What do I want? What do you mean, what do I want?” Castiel only continued staring. “I want to go back to the motel and get some sleep, that’s what. I want this case to be done with, to find whatever it is I’m looking for and – “
“What are you looking for?” Castiel interrupted.
“I don’t know. That’s the thing; we don’t even know what it is we’re looking for.” Dean sighed. “Why are you just standing there? Sit down, you’re making me nervous.”
Castiel sat next to him. Close next to him, close enough that Dean could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see every small detail in his face and feel the soft exhale of his breath.
“You work so hard, Dean, always doing one job or another. You should take time to rest and enjoy yourself.”
Dean let out a huff of a laugh. “What’s this, an angel telling me to take some R&R? What happened to my divine purpose, god not being done with me? What happened to Lilith and the seals, to needing to stop the god damn apocalypse?” He drained the last of his beer. “I need another drink. Do angels drink? Do you want a beer or somethin’?”
Castiel moved closer to him, Dean freezing at the sudden movement, heart thumping wildly in his chest until he swore that it stopped altogether when he felt Castiel’s chest touch slightly to his and felt the brush of his lips against his ear as he spoke. The angel truly did not understand the concept of personal space
“Relax, Dean. We should go somewhere else. Somewhere quiet.” His voice, God, that voice was like quiet thunder in his ear.
Castiel retreated ever so slightly, his breath no longer hot and moist on his ear, stirring his hair. His face was mere inches from his, so close that his breath tickled Dean’s face. Those eyes locked with his and made Dean stutter as he talked.
“S-somewhere else? Without strippers, you mean? Look man, if you gotta talk to me just say so, but I am on the job, I can’t just up and leave, I mean, Sam is – “
“We should go somewhere else.” Castiel repeated. “You’re right; I need to talk to you. It’s important. We have to go, now.”
“Well, uh, ok then, I guess.” Dean looked away from Cas’ face, forcing himself to get up.
He missed the sly smile that fluttered at the angels lips.
---
Whipping out his cell phone Dean dialled Sam’s number, finding it engaged and leaving a message for him.
“Sam, Cas showed up, we’re heading to the motel. I’ll be there, give me a call.”
He was outside with Castiel, walking to where he’d parked the Impala. Castiel stayed close to him and Dean swore he felt his hand brush his, by mistake or not.
Climbing into the car he willed himself to get his shit together. Why was he so agitated? Not agitated in an angry sense, but agitated as if he was flustered by something. He stole a glance at Cas and saw the angel staring at him, his eyes quickly looking away from that penetrating gaze as he felt his pulse quicken.
He felt nervous around Castiel. Whether it was because he was an almighty angel or because he didn’t act human he wasn’t sure, it was probably a combination of both. He certainly didn’t act like a normal person, with his incessant violation of personal space, intense watchful stare and odd mannerisms.
But in truth, that wasn’t what made him nervous.
What made him nervous was the fact he found himself attracted to the angel. If that wasn’t a whole new level of crazy/weird then he didn’t know what was. For one, Castiel was a dude, or so he assumed seeing as he was using a man’s body as his vessel. For two, there was that point right there – it wasn’t Castiel he was attracted to, really, was it? It was some guy whose name he didn’t even know.
Not that names mattered, but it was not just Castiel’s borrowed appearance he liked. It was him. His weird, inhuman, awkward self. His awkward self that was being more awkward, or at least making Dean feel that way.
They drove to the motel in silence, Dean wondering what it was like for an angel to ride in a car when they could fly, how insufficient vehicles must seem to them.
“Do you know why I’m here?” Castiel broke the silence abruptly. Dean shrugged, glad for a distraction from his disturbing thoughts. Attracted to an angel. A male angel. Jesus, he was messed up.
“To talk.” He answered shortly. “Right?”
“Yes, that’s right. We need to talk, Dean.”
Dean noticed that Castiel said his name an awful lot. He also noticed that he really liked how it sounded when he said it in that rough voice of his.
“What about?” Dean ventured.
“You.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You never talk about yourself, do you? Not even to Sam, except on rare occasions. You keep it all inside, and that is not healthy.”
“What, are you lecturing me or something? Trying to convince me to go to confession and let it all out?” Dean shook his head. “Listen, I get it. You’re an angel and you work for God, I accept that he must probably exist if the likes of you do, but that don’t mean I’m gonna go all devout just because you want me to.”
“I want you to talk to me.” Cas said when he was done ranting, not even showing a hint of indignation at Dean’s flat-out refusal to fully acknowledge the existence of God. Which Dean found strange, of course.
“Talk to you? About what?”
“About you. You need to talk to somebody, Dean, I can tell. I know.”
Dean gave him a long, questioning stare before he turned his eyes back on the road, or rather, parking lot, where he was pulling into a free space.
“You angels are a freaky bunch, you know that, right? You want me to just talk to you like we’re old buddies?”
“You want to talk to me.”
“Do I?”
“Yes.” Castiel said firmly. “I can tell. I know.” He repeated.
“Know a lotta things, don’t ya?” Dean muttered under his breath. He got out the car, Castiel following suite, and they went into the room he and Sam were sharing.
He immediately removed his tie and unfastened his top button, tossing both tie and jacket onto the bed where he slumped down, already half exhausted.
Castiel stood and stared at him until Dean motioned for him to sit down, made nervous once more by his ominous presence.
“So you want me to talk, huh? What about?” Cas opened his mouth and Dean held up a hand. “Don’t just say ‘you’. I get that. What do you want to know in particular?”
“Anything you want to tell me.”
“Anything? Just, anything?” Dean scratched his head. “I don’t get you at all, Cas.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Your one-liners get kinda tiring after awhile, y’know. God, I feel like you’re a shrink or something, the way you stare a lot and say a little. What’s with this talking about myself thing anyway? What purpose does it serve you?”
“It helps you. You want to talk but you won’t admit it even to yourself, so I’m here to listen, to help you.” Castiel replied in that calm way.
Dean returned his stare second for second, drinking in his appearance once more, slightly less disturbed now than when he first realised he was attracted to him. To a man. Dean had never been attracted to a guy, or even a butch chick. He was all about ladies that were ladies, all swelling curves and soft lips.
Castiel was rough around the edges and looked like he needed to sleep. His hair was ruffled and messy, he needed a shave and could do with loosening up.
At that thought, Dean pulled out his hip flask and unscrewed the top, taking a long drink of whiskey and automatically, curiously, offering it to Castiel, who sat on the bed opposite him.
To his surprise, Castiel took the flask from him.
“So you angels…you actually drink? Do normal things?” He asked in surprise as Cas held the flask to his lips. His lips parted and sealed around the lip of the flask and he tilted his head back, eyes locked onto Dean’s the whole time.
Dean swallowed anxiously as Castiel swallowed whiskey, strangely aroused by the sight of the angel drinking hard liquor, by the contraction of his pale throat. He held the flask out for Dean, his lips glistening with moisture.
A soft pink tongue darted out to sweep over his lower lip, and Dean almost groaned at the sight. Shit, he was losing his cool, and fast.
Quickly he took another long swallow of whiskey. Castiel watched him closely.
“You want someone to talk to, don’t you? Someone you can confide in, tell your secrets to. We all have secrets but not all are necessarily meant to stay unspoken. You can talk to me, Dean. Tell me what you want.”
Dean gazed at the angel’s face for a long moment before replying.
“I want you.” He said without hesitation. He felt oddly peaceful.
Castiel smiled at him then, the first time he had seen him do so, and it made him shiver. It was a slow, sly smirk that teased at the corners of his mouth and glittered in his eyes.
There was less than two feet between the beds where they sat facing each other. Cas had only to move forward slightly and suddenly there he was, knees place either side of Dean as he straddled his lap, arms on his shoulders, staring down into his eyes.
“Take me.” He said in so heated a voice Dean felt himself melt instantly.
He placed one hand on the back of Castiel’s neck and pulled him down, their lips meeting in a hungry crush as Dean’s other hand tugged that damn trenchcoat off. Aiding him to remove it, Castiel shrugged out of it and let it drop to the floor, pushing Dean back onto the bed, his weight balanced but his hips pressing down into his.
His arousal formed, it seemed, instantly. The feel of Castiel’s slightly dry but altogether wonderful lips on his own, the scratch of his stubble on his cheek, the press of his hips – it all served to stoke the newly discovered embers of desire inside of him into a roaring fire that threatened to consume him entirely unless he had Cas, had him now.
He was vaguely aware of his phone ringing, knowing it would be Sam. More aware was he of the hot, wet cavern of Castiel’s mouth when Dean pushed his tongue into his unresisting mouth. Nimble fingers worked the buttons of his shirt undone and suddenly he was bare chested and Castiel’s hand was stroking over his body, burning hot with lust like nothing he had ever known.
He broke the passionate kiss reluctantly.
“Cas, Cas wait, my phone, Sam will – “
“Sam will interrupt us. You don’t want him to, do you? You don’t want to have to stop just so he can have your attention, do you? I thought you wanted me.” Cas murmured into his ear, his tongue flicking up the shell of it to make Dean shudder in pleasure.
“God, yes, I want you.” Dean groaned, yanking Castiel’s tie off and tearing at his shirt, impatience and need too overwhelming to care for the material as it ripped with a satisfying sound.
He could feel Castiel’s chest against his, his warm, soft flesh connecting with his, and it felt perfect, so completely perfect, but he wanted to see him, see what was under all those layers of conservative clothing.
He shoved him roughly off and they moved up the bed, Castiel falling back onto the pillows, torn shirt open to expose a lean, pale torso, a trail of dark hair disappearing into the waistband of his black pants where the outline of his erection was prominent, straining the fabric taut.
Dean swept his eyes over the sight laid out in front of him, his cock throbbing in response. He kneeled between Castiel’s spread legs, fully prepared to do what he had never done before in his life – have sex with a man, a man inhabited by an angel, no less. It was just perverse enough to push Dean’s buttons.
With urgency he tackled the next obstacle – Castiel’s pants. In no time he had the belt unbuckled and was tugging at the zipper, hooking his fingers over the waistband and dragging them down, Cas kicking his shoes off and Dean having to move out of the way to get them off entirely before he settled back into his place between the angels legs.
It was an overtly sexual image, one Dean had never considered himself capable of appreciating. The way Cas was sprawled on the bed in just a pair of tight black boxers and a hastily torn shirt, his chest rising and falling with every breath, his erection bulging in his underwear…it set Dean on fire.
Castiel sat up, his hands working open Dean’s trousers until he had them off, each of them removing the others shirt until they were clad only in their underwear, Castiel pressed into the mattress by Dean on top of him as they kissed passionately, hips grinding into each other wantonly.
His phone rung out again, ignored.
Part Two
Sam muttered a stream of curses as he snapped his phone shut, picking up his pace into a run as he headed towards the motel. The Asian girl had been just another stripper who had beaten him with her purse when he confronted her. The humiliation was still vaguely burning the tops of his ears when he thought about it, but now he had bigger concerns.
Dean was not answering his phone. He’d left the strip club with Castiel, apparently, to go to the motel. In his absence, Sam had called Bobby for advice only to find out that a Siren could manipulate you into seeing whatever they wanted you to see, and usually what they wanted you to see was your image of the perfect partner. So all those girls? One girl.
They could look like anyone they chose, leaving Sam with the gut instinct that Dean was not with Castiel, but the Siren. He just found it too weird that the angel would suddenly appear in a strip club ‘to talk’.
Though Dean wouldn’t admit it, he trusted the angel, had a bizarre faith in him. He had been dragged out of hell by Castiel after all, that kinda thing invoked at least a little gratitude.
Sam had seen the way Dean looked at him as if battling with himself about something. Wondering whether to trust him, probably. But he did, he did trust him, and if that Siren needed Dean’s trust then who else would she appear as but a being of purity?
He tried calling again, once more receiving voice mail.
“Dean, pick up. Look man, I don’t think that’s Cas you’re with. Be careful.” He sounded a little breathless from running, shoving the phone into his pocket as he rounded onto the motel, jogging to the door.
It was locked.
Shit, why would Dean lock the door?
He banged his fist against it, calling Dean’s name.
“Dean! Open up!” He shouted through the wood.
The curtains were drawn, the door locked, Dean unresponsive. That was never a good sign.
Standing back he kicked the door once, twice, until it gave in, swinging open in a crack of wood and spray of splinters, slamming against the wall and returning to smack him on the shoulder before he caught it and shoved it back.
“Hello Sam.” Castiel – the Siren that looked like Castiel – said in a slow, self-satisfied voice.
Sam blinked at the scene laid out before him and couldn’t quite believe his dubious eyes. Dean stood in front of the Siren in a pair of jeans and nothing else, gun raised to Sam’s head, green eyes glinting steely determination and mouth all hard, grim line.
Behind him the siren wore Castiel’s appearance, matched in every way, a perfect duplicate, like a skinchanger. Everything about him was identical, but what really, truly disturbed Dean was that he too was only partially dressed and the room held a distinct smell of sweat and lust.
“Dean, that isn’t Castiel.” Sam warned, scared by the look on his brothers face.
Dean didn’t answer, but the Siren laughed.
“Do you think he cares about that? He thinks that I am. You see, I can see into your heart, see what it is you most desire. In your case, Sam, it’s that dead girlfriend of yours, Jessica. In Dean’s case though, it’s Castiel.” The Siren chuckled cruelly. “I expected Dean to want some bikini-clad bimbo with big tits and a little brain, but he is just full of surprises. To think that Dean Winchester lusts for a male angel. I had no idea he even swung that way.”
“You’re lying.” Sam said it before he thought about it, instantly in denial. Dean? Into guys? Into Castiel? No way. Sam would have noticed if Dean was into guys but he had never even seen him look at –
Oh. Oh.
“I can see from your expression that you’ve put two and two together, huh?”
“How do you do it? How did you do this to him?”
“We shared a drink. He really shoulda wiped that flask before he took it back.”
“Saliva. I thought it must have been some bodily fluid.” Sam eyed Dean. “Dean, man, snap out of this! You gotta fight it.”
“Fight what? Fight what I want? I want Cas and he said all I have to do for us to be together is to kill you.” He cocked the trigger with a resonating click. “Fair trade, I say.”
The Siren kept its position behind the safety of Dean, laughing wickedly.
“The poor guy truly is in love with Castiel, y’know? The way he called his name out when we were – “
“Shut up!” Sam shouted, wanting to slap his hands over his ears like a child being told why mommy and daddy hug in a special way.
With a slight push to Dean’s shoulder blades the Siren urged him forwards, advancing on Sam, backing him into the wall as he brandished the copper blade.
He would never be able to get past Dean before he fired one off, and he needed to get his blood on the blade first, so that meant getting to him past the gun, slicing into him and then successfully stabbing the bitch behind him. His mind raced to try and find a desirable outcome, drawing up a blank. All he could do was try and snap Dean out of his trance.
“Dean, that’s not Cas. Come on man, you’ve gotta see that it’s not him.” He pleaded, back pressed the far wall.
Something in his peripheral vision caught his eye. Quickly he darted his eyes to seek it out, seeing a mirror to his right reflecting the motel room scene in a very different way to how he saw it.
The mirror reflected the Siren’s true appearance, and hell, she was one ugly bitch.
Sam slowly, cautiously, slid along the wall, moving carefully, keeping his eyes on Dean and his gun. He inched towards the corner, knowing that all he needs is to manage to move close enough to the mirror on the adjoining wall for Dean to see the reflection.
Hell, he hopes that’s all he needs to do. If he can see the Siren’s reflection, he hopes to God that so can Dean.
“What do you get out of this, then? Some kind of perverted gratification?” He kept on talking, distracting the Siren, making them think he was only trying to avoid the gun, going slowly to not scare them.
“Pretty much. It feels…it feels so, so good. These people, these poor, pitiful, wretched men? They kill for me. I give them what they want and they kill for me. It’s so easy. Men are so simple, after all.”
Nearly there. Sam thought, watching Dean’s face closely. He moved further along the wall, almost colliding with the mirror.
In an instant Dean’s features cleared, his eyes losing that fogged-over look, but he retained his position. Sam understood. If he spooked the Siren now, they were fucked.
“I’m not letting you get in the way of this, Sam. You won’t take Cas from me. One shot and it’s over, I get him for life. A life for a life, it seems fair to me.” Dean’s eyes quickly darted to the blade in Sam’s hand and Sam nodded imperceptibly, understanding.
Dean moved his gun just a little higher and, with a narrowing of his eyes to signal to Sam, he fired.
Sam crouched as the shot rang off the mirror and ricocheted towards Dean, who ducked, the bullet hitting the Siren in the arm. Sam lunged forwards as the Siren screamed, Dean holding his arm out, Sam hastily cutting into him before rushing towards the Siren and plunging the knife into its stomach. It howled and attacked Sam, bleeding but not dead.
“It didn’t work!” Sam yelled in panic, yanking the blade out and dodging the furious Siren’s swinging fists.
A soft flutter, a gust of wind. With his customary abruptness the real Castiel appeared in the room, grabbing the Siren from behind and plunging a blade into its heart. It screamed briefly before silencing, Castiel withdrawing the knife and letting the limp body fall to the floor.
He looked with a calm curiosity at the dead body that mirrored him perfectly before looking up to Dean, who was turning a deep shade of red at the realisation of what must be going through Castiel’s mind. Sam looked between the two, made awkward by the sudden situation, but altogether relieved that the angel had saved their asses. He looked at the knife clutched in his hand and noted that it was copper.
“Ah, Cas, I can, well, I should – “ Dean stumbled over his words, hands waving anxiously at the body on the floor.
Castiel advanced on him without a word, touching his fingers to his head before Dean could respond.
---
In an instant they were in another room, probably of the same motel from the looks of the décor, and Castiel was giving him the most peculiar look Dean had ever seen on his face. It was part questioning, part confusion, part something else, something Dean did not even dare assume.
“The Siren looked like me. Why is that?” Castiel asked, eyes sweeping slowly over Dean as he did so, taking in the mans half-dressed appearance and mussed up hair.
“It ah, well, it needed me to trust it, so it just…” Dean spread his hands helplessly. “Can I just go? Please? This is unbelievably awkward.”
Cas eyed him for a moment before walking towards him, violating his personal space, inches from him. He looked up into Dean’s eyes, seeming to look into his soul.
“Siren’s customarily take on the appearance of the ideal mate of the person they are manipulating.” Cas informed him calmly. “The Siren became me to manipulate you.”
Dean let out a long exhaled breath that communicated his frustration.
“What can I say, Cas? You saw it, you know how it works.” He looked away from the angel, which was hard, when the angel was right in front of him.
A slightly rough hand on his cheek dragged his attention back to Castiel, forcing their eyes to meet as the angel gave him a searching look.
“A Siren is a reflection of desire. Do you desire me?” He asked softly, heat thrumming through Dean’s body, the skin on skin contact with the real Castiel burning him up.
“I think you already know the answer.” His voice came as barely a whisper.
“I have to hear you say it.” Castiel prompted.
“Why?” Asked Dean, begging his heart to calm its frantic racing.
“For permission.” Cas replied, for once not sounding quite so calm as usual.
“Permission for what?” The words were uneven as Dean’s breath shuddered, his heart quivering like a dandelion seed in the wind.
“Say it and I will show you.”
“Yes, I want you, Castiel.” Dean admitted half to Cas, half to himself.
A small smile graced Castiel’s full, pale lips before they touched to Dean’s.
He felt his heart stop altogether before it kicked back up again, faster than before, one hand sliding to the back of Castiel’s neck and the other arm slipping around his waist, pulling him closer until they pressed together.
Cas seemed somewhat startled by the sudden passion as Dean angled the kiss differently, deepening it with unhindered need. His hands moved cautiously like a fawn taking its first steps to grip Dean’s bare back, fingers digging into flesh.
After long moments, Dean pulled away slightly, looking down into Castiel’s eyes with incredulous lust burning brightly in his emerald eyes.
“I didn’t do it.” He said. “Sam came back before it happened. I want you to know that. We just, well, we – “
Castiel placed a quick, dry kiss to his lips to stop him talking.
“I know. It’s alright.” He trailed one hand down Dean’s back, eliciting a slight shiver from the man, Dean’s fingers curling into Castiel’s hair in response.
“I didn’t even know that I felt this way. I didn’t think you would.”
“I’ve grown…attached to you, I suppose. I like you more than the other humans.”
“Wow, Cas, that’ll be right up there with Romeo in the greatest love declarations.” Dean joked sarcastically, though he knew that for Cas to say that he liked him and was attached to him was a pretty huge deal. The angel said nothing in response, choosing instead to stare at him until Dean realised that Cas probably had absolutely no idea what to do in such a situation.
Thing was, Dean didn’t really know what to do either. Aside from his hazy experience with the siren, being with a guy was completely new to him. Being with an angel he was pretty certain was a virgin was an experience he’d never prepared for, either.
“Listen, Cas,” he started, sitting on the bed, “I have no idea what to do or say. This is just crazy, y’know? I mean, I like you, hell, I really do, but you’re an angel and I kinda feel like I’m…”
When he trailed off, Castiel sat next to him and cautiously put a hand on his knee. The simple action heated Dean’s blood in his veins, making his neck flush hot as he swallowed dryly, breath hitching momentarily. Such a simple action, a hand upon a denim-clad knee, but for Dean it was like Cas was touching his naked skin and he felt his arousal forming, gut clenching tightly. See, that’s when you know you’re in danger, when the simplest of touches and briefest of glances can make you feel like you could give up everything to give into that one person.
He had not until this moment realised just how immensely Cas effected him, how desperately he craved him – it was like Cas was a drug and Dean was a junkie, and from that one simple touch he burned with the desire for more, for his hands all over him.
“You feel like you’re…?” Cas broke into his hurricane of thoughts.
“I feel like if I touch you, I’ll make you dirty.” He finished in a rush, feeling a fool for saying it.
“Make me dirty? How could you do that?” Cas enquired, all genuine curiosity and uncomprehending of embarrassment.
“You’re an angel, Cas. Angel’s are pure and perfect, you’re pure and perfect, and I don’t want to ruin that.”
“What makes you believe I am so pure?”
“I don’t know much about you guys but down here we’re taught that angels are literally perfection, that they are the embodiment of purity. From knowing you I know that pretty much everything they teach in Sunday school is crap but that bit I can believe. You were made to be perfect, not like humans, not like me.”
“Dean, angels are the warriors of God. We fight, we kill, we undertake any task assigned to us and we get our hands dirty doing it. I am not the incandescent create of perfection you think I am, and you seem to be making yourself out to be a filthy broken thing, when you’re not.” Cas insisted. “You’re perfect as you are. God made humans, and everything God makes is beautiful. You’re my favourite example of God’s creations because you are the way you are.”
Dean felt himself blush slightly and silently chastised himself for blushing like a maiden.
“I’ll never get used to the way you talk.” He chuckled. “So you’re a warrior, I get that. But you’re also innocent.”
Cas cocked his head to the side and fixed Dean with his gaze. “How so?”
“Let me be blunt here. Cas, you’re a virgin, aren’t you?” He asked and Cas nodded.
“Technically, yes. I’m not human so I don’t…I don’t do that. I never, I mean, I don’t have a body like this when I’m in Heaven, and we don’t, but…” He stopped talking as Dean started laughing, frowning at the man. “Is that funny to you?”
“I’ve never seen you embarrassed before. Hell, I didn’t think you could get embarrassed.” He laughed. “But in all seriousness, that’s what I mean. You are innocent, and pure, in that sense at least. If you were anything but an angel I’d probably have your clothes off right about now but I don’t want to force myself onto you because I’ve been wound up by a siren pretending to be you.”
Somewhat awkwardly but still arousingly, Castiel slid his hand from where it rested on Dean’s knee further up, gliding up his thigh to where the material pulled taught over his crotch, his hand staying as it reached the top of his thigh.
“You want me, you said. I want you too. I may be an angel but in this body I experience human feelings and desire is one of them, but it’s my desire and it’s for you.” Cas said quietly but firmly. “These feelings are new, but it’s…it’s thrilling. I want to act upon them and I want to do so with you.”
Vaguely, Dean understood that this was Castiel’s way of saying that he wanted Dean to bang him in his overly complicated angelic eloquence, but he couldn’t get past the feeling of Cas’s hand on him, watching as his thumb edged towards his hardening member to rub against the bulge forming at every word and it’s implication, at the mental picture it painted for Dean, of him inside of Cas, of Cas under him, on top of him, with him.
For a virgin, Cas certainly knew how to get him hard in an instant.
He put his hand over Cas’s and stopped him. “You do understand what acting upon this entails, right?” He asked to ensure Cas did know what sex was. He couldn’t be too sure.
“If you’re asking if I understand the mechanics of sexual intercourse, then yes, I do. I may be an angel but I am not stupid.”
Dean smirked. “And you understand that you’re a guy, and I’m a guy, so this is kinda different to what men and women do, right? That this technically would make us gay.” He didn’t even hesitate to question whether he was ok with thinking of himself as gay. He didn’t think of himself as gay: he was Cas-sexual.
“Despite what priests like to preach from their hideous misinterpretation of Gods word, no sexual orientation is a sin and the coupling of two people, male or female, is a natural thing. I know that men and women copulate for reproduction but I know that men and men, women and women, can do so for pleasure. The human body was designed for pleasure and you should glorify in Gods work – “
Cas was cut off by Dean’s lips against his. He didn’t know why, but hearing Cas talking about God and bodies and copulation like that was a turn-on. That he was so open to sexuality was something Dean could not have expected from him. That he would respond so willing to Dean’s sexual advances was less anticipated even than that, as he pushed him onto the bed and continued ravishing his mouth with desperate, passionate kisses.
---
Though Cas had not put his apparent knowledge of sex to practical use, he responded to Dean’s kisses and touches as if he were a pro. There was none of the awkward teenage-like fumbling Dean had expected – he dived straight in there, helping Dean undress him and attacking his jeans hungrily until they were stripped naked as suddenly as the whole thing had started.
As Dean kissed and nibbled his neck, savouring the taste of his skin, Cas talked between little gasps and moans.
“These feelings have been driving me crazy. I didn’t understand them at first. I didn’t understand why whenever I was with you I felt like I was burning up, and the erections were problematic – “
Dean stopped his avid attention to Cas’s neck to raise his head and look at him in wonder.
“You were hard?” He asked bluntly. “You got hard when we were together?”
“The way you looked at me made my body respond in an unfortunate manner.” Cas agreed, recalling all of the long, hungry stares Dean had directed at him.
Feeling his cock harden further – which he thought was impossible given the state Cas had him in – Dean realised that without knowing it, Cas was dirty talking. He liked it, he decided, and chose to keep it going. Cas obliged him, carrying on his unknowingly filthy monologue.
“It was new to me as I’d never been aroused before so I didn’t know how to deal with it…ah, Dean…” He moaned as Dean caught his nipple in his teeth and teased it. He continued breathlessly, “I didn’t know it was you making me respond that way at first, either, until we spent more time together and I realised that every time you stared at me I could read the same feelings in your eyes and I understood that my body was reacting to you because I wanted you.”
With a keen ear tuned to Cas’s every sinfully sweet word Dean continued to teach Cas new feelings. He flicked his tongue against his nipple as his thumb circled the other, rubbing it to stiffness. He received a beautiful reaction as Cas whined desperately, his body arching slightly off the bed and his hand coming to tangle in Dean’s short hair, gripping it tightly.
“Mmm…that feels good…” He murmured.
“Keep talking.” Dean instructed him, stroking his hand down his chest and stomach, fingers sliding through the trail of dark hair that thickened at his groin where his erection curved towards his flat stomach, the end already glistening precum. He’d never been turned on by the sight of a naked guy before, but damn, Dean could appreciate Castiel’s lean and gorgeous body, even the sight of his fleshy, hard cock made him growl his approval.
He gazed appreciatively at Cas’s body, eyes drinking him in. There was something undeniably beautiful about the angel, something about how completely at ease he was, how utterly uninhibited.
“Dean?” He asked, and Dean returned his attention to his face. “Are you aroused by what I’m saying?”
“I ain’t denying it. I don’t think you understand how dirty you sound, talkin’ like that.”
“I’m simply telling you how I felt, and how it feels when you touch me.” Cas seemed genuinely perplexed by the concept of his talking turning Dean on.
“Which is hot, Cas, unbelievably hot. Just keep talking like that, and I’ll keep making you feel good.” He promised, loosely wrapping his hand around his cock and making Cas cry out loudly, body literally jolting at the sensation. “Is that the first time you’ve been touched there?”
“Yes.” Cas gasped, biting his lower lip, the simple action driving Dean wild. He pumped his hand slowly, thumb teasing over the head and drawing another loud cry from Cas when he dipped it into his dripping slit. Cas was definitely uninhibited – the guy was loud.
“How does that feel?” He asked softly, hand sliding up and down his length, slicked by the precum he gathered at the tip.
“So, so good.” Cas moaned.
“Did you never touch yourself? When you had an erection?” Dean asked curiously, mouth lowering to Cas’s nipple again, launching a full on pleasure assault.
“I didn’t think to. I didn’t really know what to do. I just knew that I wanted you but didn’t know what to do about it.” He was struggled with his words now, voice breathy and strained. “Did you?”
Dean paused. “Did I what?”
“Pleasure yourself, because of me?”
“Honestly? Yeah. Sometimes I’d lie in bed thinking about you, wondering what you were doing, wishing you were there with me. I wanted to know what it would be like to kiss you.” And kiss him he did, lustfully claiming his mouth once more.
“Dean?” Cas sounded a little nervous.
“Yeah?” Dean replied, hand still slowly, carefully working on his erection.
“I want to do that to you.”
“Do what…oh, you mean?” Dean looked down at his own erection, almost completely forgotten about in his rapture with Cas’s body. Cas nodded, seeming a little shy.
“This feels good, I want you to feel the same.” Cas explained, already moving away and forcing Dean to lie back on the bed, his strength a surprise to Dean. He forget how powerful the angel was, forgot the hidden strength in his wiry body.
It was more than a little hot.
Castiel placed himself between Dean’s legs, grabbing his thighs and pushing them apart, taking no airs or graces, just getting to what he wanted, and damn if that didn’t make Dean groan, a tingle in his nerves. Cas was completely unaware of his potent sexuality, from his seemingly innocent dirty talk to his take-no-prisoners approach to Dean’s body.
He looked up at Dean and a flicker of a smirk graced his lips. “I like how open your body is to me. You look like a sacrifice, laid out like that.”
Dean almost choked. “For an angel, you’re pretty wicked. You’re kinda perverted.”
With a chuckle so low and throaty it sounded close enough to evil to make Dean shiver, Cas let his hand slide up Dean’s thigh to his cock, taking hold of it like he owned it.
“You humans. You like to make sex into something wicked, something perverse, when pleasure is the most natural thing imaginable. Is it erotic to think of what we’re going as wicked?” He asked, hand pumping Dean’s shaft firmly, the hunter gasping.
“God, Cas, how are you so kinky without even realising it?” Dean bit out, not failing to notice the disapproving narrowing of blue eyes at the blaspheme. “I swear, you’re not as innocent as you’d have me believe.”
“I want to know what you taste like.” Cas said, ignoring Dean’s insinuation. Before he had a chance to fully compute what the angel was implying, a wet tongue was licking at the head of his cock, lapping at the salty fluid before full, firm lips parted to take him into his mouth. The first couple of inches slid into his hot mouth and Dean moaned shamelessly, head tossing back and hips bucking upwards, taking Cas by surprise as a more of him was pushed into his mouth. He tongued and sucked at the burning flesh in his mouth, tongue sliding sinuously.
Cas’s hands held Dean’s hips down firmly, his strength so overwhelming that Dean couldn’t move, each time his hips involuntarily bucked up they were kept in place effortlessly, Cas taking complete control over Dean as though this wasn’t his first sexual encounter. Dean watched him, enraptured by the sight of the angel as his cock slid in and out of his mouth. He drew away after blissful long moments, tongue licking over his lips as he contemplated the taste of his lover.
“I never truly understood sex, but now I do. I want to do more to you.” He said, but to Dean it sounded like ‘I’m going to do what I want to you, how I want, and I’m going to do it right now.’
---
He’d never thought of himself as a submissive sort of guy, but as Cas bent over him to kiss him fiercely, a hand fisting both of their erections together, he thought he would quite happily give into anything Cas wanted before realising that whether he would do so or not, Cas was going to have him anyway. It made sense to him, if he thought about it: inexperienced or not, Cas was an incredibly powerful being, a dominant being, so the way he was claiming his body so thoroughly was just an extension of that dominant power. Dean had thought that he’d teach Cas about his body, teach him about sex but instead Cas was discovering everything he wanted under his own steam, quite literally taking Dean’s body for himself.
Without Cas restraining him, his hips thrust into the tight circle of the angel’s hand as a tongue teased his. He was breathless, a gasping, writhing mess, by the time Cas stopped kissing him.
“You’re eager.” Cas murmured against his ear, his breath tingling and making Dean’s body quake. Holy fuck, his ear, seriously? Cas just breathed onto his ear and he lost the last shreds of his self-control.
“You’re good.” Dean retorted. “You’re not a virgin. I won’t believe that you’ve never done this before.”
“Why would I lie? It’s true, you’re the first.” Cas said between kisses as he let his lips explore Dean’s neck, nibbling his throat.
“How do you know how to do this, then?” Dean gasped.
“I’ve spent thousands of years observing humanity, and I’m a fast learner. Your body is so accepting of me…” He let his tongue trail over Dean’s nipple. “You did this to me before, it felt good. Do you like it?”
Did he like it? Damn, yes, Dean liked it. He liked everything Cas was doing to him. Dean, however, was past articulating his words with Castiel’s tongue flicking against his nipple and his hand still around their cocks, so he answered with a moan. At that moment, Dean decided something he would never have considered before: he decided that he wanted to feel Cas inside of him. He wanted Cas to top.
“Cas, please, you’re driving me crazy.” He whimpered, though he would later deny ever making such embarrassing sounds.
“What do you want me to do, Dean?” Cas asked, like he was the one teaching Dean.
In a brazen move, Dean took hold of Castiel’s wrist and Cas let go of their erections. With his eyes locked with Cas’s, he brought his fingers into his mouth, three of them, and sucked on the appendages, tongue thoroughly wetting. Cas’s eyes burned brightly, the blue almost entirely consumed by the black of his wide pupils. He made a very unangelic noise, something between a growl and a moan as Dean moved his hand further down until it was hovering over his asshole.
“I want you inside of me.” He said with an unwavering certainty.
Hand slicked, Cas let his finger press against Dean’s hole, rubbing it experimentally, feeling it twitch, and watching in something close to awe as he pushed his finger inside, his ears pricking at the delicious sound Dean made. Dean’s head rolled back against the pillows, eyes sliding closed as he relaxed his body. Though the somewhat dry penetration burned a bit and he wished they had lube, it felt surprisingly good to be filled there. Cas moved his finger gently, sliding it in and out until he felt Dean’s body loosen, a sigh escaping his lips.
“I didn’t know that the male body did that.” Cas murmured to himself.
“Did what?” Dean asked, lifting his head to see Cas watching enthralled as he fingered Dean. He looked up for a moment to answer.
“You’re wet, down here.” His voice was a growl, throaty and dangerous sounding. “And you smell good. It’s your pheromones: they appeal to me. It’s like an aphrodisiac perfume.”
Dean couldn’t help but feel a little like an animal, if he was being honest with himself, he felt like a bitch in heat and Cas was an alpha male. It was incredible to watch Cas transform from a stoic, righteous angel into a thing consumed by his lust. The changes were small yet somehow glaring, from his heavy breathing, his blown-wide pupils, the way his lips were parted and his tongue would snake out to wet his lips, to the changes Dean could not quite explain; he seemed somehow different, his very presence altered, more intense, somehow.
His ponderings were cleared from his mind like a hand swiping across a chalkboard when Cas thrust a second finger into him, this time with less patience, to make his body seize up and clamp down on the intruding digits, the tightness making Cas groan.
“Your body is tightening around me. You have to relax.” He said as he returned his free hand to Dean’s cock. “Would it help if I distracted you?” He offered, already fisting his cock firmly. Dean barely managed a nod as Cas twisted his fingers inside of him, pushing and pushing, determinedly reaching the very core of him, twisting again and again until Dean called out his name breathlessly.
“Cas!” He cried, the air escaping his lungs. “Fuck, do that again.” He begged, hips rocking back onto his fingers. He knew about the prostate, of course, but had never had occasion to try and find it. There had been one girl who tried to do it but it hadn’t gone well – it had been uncomfortable and a little painful, nothing at all like what Cas was doing to him as his body writhed of its own accord, insistently pushing back on the fingers inside of him.
And Cas, the bastard, laughed. It was a low, amused and self-satisfied chuckle that with his gravelly voice further roughened by arousal sounded altogether menacing, but in the sexiest way imaginable.
Obliging, Cas twisted his fingers and curled them in on themselves, pressing against the lump he had found, over and over and over again, all the while stroking Dean’s erection, until Dean easily and without resistance accepted a third finger, the feeling of fullness so unbelievably good that he could barely stand it. He grabbed hold of Cas’s wrist to stop him jacking his cock.
“Stop. If you keep doing that I won’t last much longer.” He pleaded, and Cas simply hummed and removed his fingers, but he did it lowly, dragging them over his prostate once more so that Dean moaned desperately as he withdrew.
“Dean, I want you, but I’ve heard that this can hurt. Are you certain you want to do this?” Cas asked, his eyes at once tender and heated, his voice quaking from both worry and desire.
“I’m supposed to be the one worrying about you. This is your first time.” Dean retorted, but he reached for Cas and the angel allowed himself to be drawn to Dean for a sweet, loving kiss. “I’m sure.” He said as they broke apart, spreading his legs wide and wrapping them around Cas.
Cas smiled at as he snapped his fingers, a bottle of lotion appearing in his hand out of nowhere.
“I saw this in the bathroom of your room, I thought it might help.” He explained, popping the lid open and sniffing experimentally. “You’re going to smell like…rose and lavender.” He commented as he squeezed a large blob onto his hand.
Though smelling like cheap perfume wasn’t exactly a turn-on, Dean couldn’t give a damn; he was too transfixed with watching Cas slaver the thick, sweet-smelling lotion onto his cock and the look of pleasure on his face as he did so. He wiped the excess off onto the sheets and balanced on one forearm, his other hand gripping Dean’s hip tightly as he aligned himself.
Without breaking eye-contact, Cas pressed into him, breaching the tight ring of muscle with only a little effort before the rest of him slid in smoothly, Dean’s body quickly accepting him. Both men moaned together at the intense feeling between them, the sheer bliss of being joined for the first time, Dean glowing with the absurdly wonderful feeling of being so full, so stretched, he wondered how he had ever lived so emptily before.
And Cas.
Well, Cas looked like he’d found a heaven greater than the one he lived in, his eyes glazed in bliss and body quivering. He paused to allow Dean a moment to adjust to him, kissing him repeatedly, little tender presses of his lips, almost his entire length buried inside of him, before he started a slow, gentle rhythm, easing Dean into the sensation of being fucked.
As wave after wave of pleasure like nothing he’d ever felt flooded his veins, his blood boiling and heart thud-thudding, Dean felt helpless in the face of such divine feeling.
He was certain that it wouldn’t feel half so good with anyone else, that it was not only the action itself that felt so good but the fact it was Cas he was with, Cas’s eyes burning into his as he intently watched his face, enthralled with the expressions he saw there, Cas’s hand holding onto his hip with his inhuman strength, Cas’s thick erection splitting him almost in two as it drove relentlessly into him, his thrusts harder, more confident as he was assured Dean was in no pain.
It didn’t take long for Dean’s body to accept his entire length as he shifted so his hips angled upwards, legs raising about Cas’s waist to beckon him in deeper into his constricting heat.
The change in angle meant that Cas was thrusting into his prostate repeatedly, the abuse so sweet Dean lost himself entirely, lost any awareness of the world but for the world on the cheap motel bed, the six billion people of the world reduced to only two, only him and Cas. There was nothing else, only this, only them. He couldn’t remember the last time sex released him so from the shit of his life.
“There is not a painting in this world, not a single work of art so beautiful as your face is right now.” Cas breathed. Dean didn’t know how to respond to that – hell, he couldn’t, Cas was mercilessly pounding into him now, his hips slamming almost brutally to drive Dean into the mattress and shake him like a ragdoll at the mercy of his unfathomable strength. They were glistening with sweat and panting, heaving and shuddering breaths, Dean reaching for Cas to pull him down, clawing as his back as he gasped.
“Lie back. Lie on your back.” He just about managed to get the words out, Cas giving him a curious glance as his hips stilled their punishing pace and he withdrew, leaving Dean feeling empty so with a single-minded determination to feel full again he pushed Cas into position and swung a leg over him, gripping Cas’s erection with one hand while the other splayed out on his chest for balance and he sank down onto his length, swallowing him with one easy motion, groaning at the perfection of the feeling.
Cas seized hold of his hips again, unable to keep his hands off him, as Dean found the right rhythm, rolling his hips almost languidly, the slower motion a brief reprieve before he started rocking his hips harshly, urging Cas to meet him with his own thrusts until they were back to the same primal, animalistic tempo and Dean was fisting his throbbing cock, head thrown back to expose the long line of his throat. Cas never took his eyes off him, not once, eyes shifting from his face to where his cock was driving into him urgently, reaching for something but not knowing what.
“Fuck, Cas, I’m close…” Dean moaned as Cas lifted his own hips up and with the hold on Dean pushed him down, hard, to meet him, skin slapping against skin. Dean cried out his name again until he was muttering it over and over, Cas, Cas, Cas, like a prayer.
Shouting out in what sounded like Enochian, Cas felt his insides tighten before it seemed as if his being was being torn apart in a blinding rush of pleasure, his first orgasm exploding through him and rendering him senseless. Dean stroked himself faster, continuing to ride Cas through the waves of his orgasm until he stilled, shaking and moaning, as he came harder than he had ever before, making a mess of the angel beneath him.
Collapsing forwards, his energy utterly spent, Dean lay atop Castiel as they fought to regain control of their hearts and lungs, the afterglow of their orgasms soothing them like hot chocolate on a bitter winter’s night.
Using the last of his energy to roll off Cas and curl up around him, Cas drawing him into the tight, protective circle of his arms, Dean sighed happily, thoroughly exhausted and utterly sated. He looked up sleepily at his angelic lover, who gazed down at him with what could only be described as adoration in his eyes.
“Are you tired?” Cas asked, voice hoarse and fucked-out sounding.
“Exhausted.” Dean agreed, yawning as if to give strength to his claim. “After that, can you blame me? Aren’t you tired?”
“I don’t need sleep, but my body is weak.” He observed thoughtfully. “It’s pleasant, though. I feel more relaxed than I’ve ever felt before. Does this always happen?”
Dean chuckled. “If it’s as good as this, yeah. Hey, Cas?”
“Yes, Dean?”
“Will you stay? I know you don’t sleep but, well, I’d really like to sleep with you.”
“I won’t leave. I promise.”
Dean smiled sleepily and closed his eyes, head on Cas’s chest. “Good, 'cause I’m not letting you go, ever.”