the female ghost of tom joad (janie_tangerine) wrote,
the female ghost of tom joad

fic, Supernatural: Would You Lay With Me, If I Gave Myself To You? (Dean/Castiel), NC17

Title: Would You Lay With Me, If I Gave Myself To You?
Pairing/Characters: Dean/Castiel; OFC for the sake of the plot.
Rating: NC17
Word count: 9039
Spoilers: heavy for the 5x03 promo and also for the summary of said 5x03 episode. Also for everything aired in S5 up to this point.
Summary: It’s like all the self control he has been practicing since he came back is suddenly gone. Or my take on what 'not going as planned' means in reference to that 5x03 spoiler.
A/N: this will probably definitely be AU in twelve hours tops and if I didn't have to worry with school I'd have finished it three days ago, but still, it didn't want to go away and I figured that at least the episode hasn't aired yet. Using for sacred_20 #17, confession. I more or less stole the title from a Johnny Cash song because it was fitting but it doesn't have anything else to do with this.

Castiel feels bitter. He has been feeling bitter since the second Dean mentioned women. And the mere fact that he feels bitter is very unpleasant.

Since he followed Dean to the car and then inside, he hasn’t stopped thinking about it. Sex is not something that has ever concerned him. Sex is something humans do; angels know about it, sure, but that’s it. Castiel has never really thought about sex during all of his existence, or at least, not in any way that could concern him. So when he had felt something itching when Dean had to bring sex into the equation (or Castiel’s lack of experience in the field, anyway) and then when he had felt embarrassed and resentful and just bitter as he had to admit that he never experienced it, well, that reaction was at least unexpected. It had happened and he hadn’t even realized that he had thrown out an excuse until he had already spoken anyway; it’s unsettling and Castiel thinks it’s at least half the reason he feels… nervous. He can’t believe he’s feeling nervous when, a human year ago, he wouldn’t have even know what that word meant.

Point is, he can’t seem to keep his fingers still and he has almost pulled a button of the trench loose because seemingly it’s either fiddling with it or touch any part of the car he can reach and he thinks the latter isn’t an option he wants to consider.

This isn’t something he’s used to. Then again, he isn’t used to feel things as sharp and real as he has felt them since he came back; before, even when he had thought he was starting to have feelings, everything was muffled. He thinks it might be at least partially because of Jimmy; well, he’s still here, but (and it’s another thing that is making him worry) the problem is that he isn’t responsive at all and it isn’t because Castiel chose to shut him out. Actually, he has tried to bring him to conscience some three times already, but with no success. Everything is confusing, everything is too much and on top of it all everything was for nothing and now the only hope left is finding God wherever he is; pity that summoning Raphael means a very, very high chance that he won’t survive the meeting since he isn’t nearly as powerful as he once was (Castiel’s only hope lies in the fact that the one that he fought in the prophet’s house wasn’t Raphael; still, it isn’t much and he won’t share it, not when it’s such a wild guess). He’s not letting things affect him too much, though, or trying to; he needs to keep himself together because at least it does give him an illusion of being what he once was and that’s enough for now.

He told Dean he was probably going to die with a shrug, he ignored a small pang of something that had tugged inside him when Dean had taken in the news not really showing much resentment at the idea and, truth to be told, he isn’t sure he’s going along with whatever Dean has in mind because he actually wants to or because bringing him wherever they are going is a sign that Dean does care about his state. Maybe it’s both things. He doesn’t know.

He looks out of the window, the road barely visible since it’s dark outside; his hand leaves the button and reaches his pocket, where Dean’s amulet is. He holds it in his fingertips without taking it out; he sighs, knowing what it had meant for Dean to give it up and wishing he never had to ask for it in the first place. Not that he’ll be parted from it too long, if tomorrow Castiel doesn’t survive the summoning; and if he doesn’t, he highly doubts that Dean is ever going to keep on searching. He doesn’t blame him, not really, but he just hates how Dean doesn’t get it.

It’s so complicated.

He doesn’t even know if he has chosen the best course of action; after all, if he dies tomorrow, Dean won’t probably pursue the quest and then it’ll be all for nothing and in the end the only option left will be Michael. Castiel doesn’t exactly know all the reasons why but the idea makes bile rise in his throat and that’s definitely a sensation he’d have avoided experiencing. It’s partially a question of wounded pride; a reason why he’s feeling bitter at all, anyway, is that no one deemed him important enough to inform him of Dean’s real role, even though well, after all he was the last to learn about the real plan all along, so it really isn’t a surprise. But when he had raised Dean from Hell, Castiel knew Dean to be the one and no one mentioned Michael; also, Castiel had found himself agreeing with the part of the prophecy he knew back then, or that he was told back then, the second he looked upon Dean’s soul, broken and sullied as it might have been. When he had remade Dean, he had done it with uttermost care, believing that it was a just task and the proof that God really was infinitely merciful and kind and wise; after all, they were giving Dean a second chance in which he could have proven his righteousness, not to mention that forgiving him at all had been probably the greatest act of mercy Castiel had thought his Father capable of. Back then. Now, Castiel still believes firmly that Dean is the one. No one and nothing is going to make him change his mind. It’s also a question of something else, though. Is a question of finding the idea of anyone possessing Dean insufferable, because Dean should be his alone, he should only belong to himself and no one else unless he did really choose willingly, and that doesn’t include being a vessel anyway.

There’s a reason why Castiel would lose everything all over again and there’s a reason why he did what he did in the first place. Also, he thinks feeling something that has to be shame, he knows what it means to ask permission to possess someone, and he knows that the mere fact that angels need consent makes things seem a lot easier than they really are. True, if he had known how this was going to turn out when choosing a vessel, he would have never chosen someone with a family to lose, but it doesn’t change anything. He did and while he does regret his actions, he doubts that Jimmy’s wife or Jimmy himself have much use for his regret. Whatever the plan up there is, Castiel doesn’t want anyone willingly doing to Dean what he has unwillingly done to Jimmy and if tomorrow he goes, then he won’t be able to make sure it doesn’t happen.

He just wishes Dean would care about this instead of caring about whether Castiel dies a virgin or not.

Though well, after a year and then some Castiel has noticed that Dean tends to bring the conversation on such topics when he feels uncomfortable; maybe it could be the case? Castiel sighs and shakes his head. It’s too complicated. It’s really too complicated and he might be keeping himself together remarkably, but it doesn’t mean the thought of dying yet again tomorrow is anything that leaves him indifferent. Just thinking about the first time is hard enough that he can’t bring himself to do it, but experiencing it again…

“There we are. Ready for one wild night?”

Castiel thinks that Dean’s voice has a slight forced edge, like he’s trying to be cheerful and not exactly succeeding; he turns around and sees Dean crank up a smile which doesn’t exactly reach his eyes, but he lets it go. It might be that he’s seeing too much.

“Even if I wasn’t, it would have to be now, wouldn’t it?”

“Got a point. Well then, let’s go.”

Castiel nods and gets out of the car, closing the door slowly while Dean almost slams it, and it surprises Castiel, but he doesn’t mention it. A door opens when Dean presses a button on the entrance phone and Castiel follows him into a dark hallway inside of a house which looks everything but respectable. He isn’t exactly liking this. They go up the stairs and stop at the first floor, when Dean knocks on another door and then leads him in. Castiel waits while Dean talks with a woman who seems a receptionist but can’t be just that, not if Dean brought him here to have sex. It takes a couple of minutes, then Dean nods and pushes a bundle of cash over the desk behind which the woman stands; then he takes Castiel’s arm, leads him to some kind of hall and he finds himself in the presence of thirteen young, beautiful girls. Castiel feels dust raising from under his shoes and he can’t help noticing how seedy this room is and how oppressive it feels with all of its walls covered in heavy, dark red cheap velvet more than he pays attention to the girls; this until Dean elbows him and Castiel has to jerk in his direction.

“Cas, uh, you should choose one. Don’t worry, everything’s covered.”

Castiel would really want to know what does everything mean (the hooker, the fact that it’s his first time, something else?) but then turns his attentions back to the girls. Dean’s expression is sort of encouraging and Castiel can’t help admitting that he’s doing this half because he sort of wants to experience something that seems so important to his charge before he goes, if he has to, and the other half because it was Dean’s idea. Anyway. He scans all the girls, desperately trying to understand how is he supposed to choose one; he doesn’t really have much experience of what humans would call mere physical attraction. He hadn’t answered, while going to the car, when Dean asked him what was his type. Castiel doesn’t have a type and he never felt any attraction to any other being which was strictly based on external appearance only; not to mention that the ability he had to see straight into someone’s soul which he once had is seemingly between the ones that were gone after the Archangels, so he can’t even use that for a criterion.

He takes a breath. He can do this. The girls are all objectively beautiful and what he can see of their bodies is more than he’s comfortable with; he discards a couple because he decides that heavy make-up is not for his taste (fun, he hadn’t known he had one but he guesses it’s never too late for that). There are still at least ten left and he’s at a dead end when he notices the third one sitting on a couch on his left. She’s the only girl whose skirt reaches the knee and who is wearing a lace, old-rose corset which, while fitting her perfectly, doesn’t just crudely show most of her bosom, unlike her colleagues. She isn’t wearing any shoes, her skin is pale, her lips are full and pink with just the barest hint of lipstick, her light brown hair is long enough to reach her breast, freckles are scattered across her cheeks and she has two wide, green eyes coming in a package with long, dark eyelashes; the make up she wears is light and mostly subtle, and Castiel sort of likes that. When she notices that he has been staring at her a lot more than at anyone else in the room the corner of her mouth lifts in a half-grin and shows white, perfect teeth; there’s something cocky in that, but Castiel finds it somewhat familiar and it’s when Dean realizes where he’s looking.

“Uh. Are you thinkin’ about that one?” he asks, sounding almost surprised.

Castiel nods, not really trusting his voice; he doesn’t even know if he should approach the girl directly or not, but thankfully Dean spares him that and goes straight to her. Castiel doesn’t hear the whole conversation but catches first time, everything paid in advance, please be patient?; the girl nods at Dean, stands up and goes straight to him, looking sure and professional and at ease. At least someone here is.

“So, your friend says you’re too shy to ask me directly?” she questions, but her tone is light and almost flirty and drips with confidence. Castiel swallows.

“I might…”

“Oh, it’s okay. Takes a lot more than that to creep me out, sugar. So, I’m Cassie. You don’t need to tell me your name if it doesn’t make you comfortable. And since it seems like you got secured the best room available I’d say we could get started?”

“Oh. Well. Yes,” he answers, at a loss for words and trying to process all the information (Cassie? Best room available?). “Dean, you…”

“I’ll just wait and chill out here, don’t worry. I’m really not in the mood, but it’s your night. Have fun.”

Castiel isn’t too sure, especially because Dean does sound confident but there’s something in his face that screams otherwise and Castiel knows that face well enough; there’s no time to dwell on that, though, and he follows Cassie in another hallway covered in that same dark red. They pass three or four rooms and the noises coming from there can’t be mistaken for anything different from what they are; the prospect of joining the choir isn’t really making his spirits lift, though. Also, he feels ridiculous. Cassie. Cas and Cass, Dean would probably say, and he doesn’t find it fun at all. She opens a door and he follows her into a fairly large room.

Everything is draped in sky-blue wallpaper, which is definitely cleaner than the red velvet he has seen until this point; there’s a huge bed on his left, against the wall but in a central position, with a blue cover that is supposed to look expensive but which doesn’t, as Dean would have said, cut it. If this is the best room he wonders how the others are, and then he realizes that Dean actually asked for it specifically. It’s enough to make him decide that he is going to get through this. If only because he doesn’t want to die knowing that he couldn’t make it work when Dean obviously tried to do something nice for him even if he hadn’t showed much concern before and if this something is nice only by Dean’s standards. He takes the coat off and drapes it carefully on a chair, realizing that he should probably lose some clothes. Then he remembers the pendant in the pocket and Dean’s don’t lose it; he wordlessly takes it out and wears it, swearing to himself that he’ll take it off as soon as this is over. It isn’t his place to wear that, but he wants to have it where he can see it. Then he wonders if he isn’t taking it too slow, but suddenly a hand is on the small on his back.

“Don’t worry, we have two hours tops covered. You don’t have to hurry if you don’t want to. Though, your friend said you wanted it all, right?”

Castiel turns to face Cassie, who’s still smiling in that confident way, and nods even if he doesn’t know what wanting it all would imply.

“Then… just let me do this. I’ll just be nice and slow.”

Long, soft fingers of one hand start loosening his tie without taking it off completely, while the other hand opens his shirt slowly; she’s pressing against him in a way which isn’t crowding but is definitely into his personal space (and Dean would have something to say here) and she is slow, so incredibly slow. Meanwhile she manoeuvres him towards the bed and he takes a breath and looks at her, then closes his eyes and looks at her again. Her face is so near that he could count the freckles if he wished so; but then, for a second he sees Dean’s features in there even if the cheeks are too full and there’s make-up and his hands start shaking so hard he can’t keep it in.

It’s like all the self control he has been practicing since he came back is suddenly gone; she’s beautiful and gentle and while she’s being paid for this, she isn’t touching him like it’s a chore… and it doesn’t matter. What matters is that the details are all there but they’re wrong because she’s not the person he’s really attracted to, even if now he’s pretty sure he chose her unconsciously because of that; good time for realizing it. Good time indeed. And while Jimmy is nowhere Castiel can reach him, somehow he feels like doing this with a perfect stranger would be insulting to the man whose body Castiel is in theory still inhabiting even if he’s as good as gone; he can’t even ask permission and so maybe he should just go for it, but suddenly he can’t. He just can’t.

Then the girl shakes her head, smiles and takes his hands in between hers.

“I’m… I’m sorry, but I can’t…”

“Hey. Chill. I suspected it.”


“Sugar, when a guy who could totally pass for my twin brother asks me to get you laid, pays for the best room and tells me I should have a lot of patience because you might freak out but wants you to spend a fantastic night, and apparently you like me enough to be your first, it doesn’t really take much to put two and two together. Now, just take a breath and see what you want to do. And before you ask me, I won’t lose anything if you bail out. See, I really just want to do my job here. Getting entangled in clients’ personal business isn’t my kinda thing. But no point if you don’t want that, right?”

Castiel drops on the bed, following her advice, but everything is so confusing and while the last thing he wants to do is making Dean worry he just can’t do this, not if…

“Could… could you get him? My… friend, I mean.”

“And maybe I should also leave the both of you alone for those two hours?”

She winks and Castiel probably makes a surprised face, but she just laughs.

“Hey. You paid for them, the room is yours until they expire. Well then, just don’t faint on me, okay?”

He nods and she leaves, bare feet moving quickly on the carpet. Castiel’s head aches and he’s pretty sure that he’s sporting none of the confidence he has showed since he killed two of his kind in John Winchester’s locker room. He should have stuck to his program of sitting quietly. Maybe then he wouldn’t have actually realized what name he should attach to a good part of the reason why he would do it all over again for Dean if there was the need. Maybe now he’d still feel like he could meet his almost certain death with the faith that he would do the right thing. Not that he thinks it isn’t the right thing; it is the right thing and the only way because only Raphael would know, but while until now the idea of sacrificing himself for the right thing never was something he’d have questioned, now he’s being selfish and wanting his existence for himself. That’s just not how it’s supposed to be. And it’s not like Dean would ever understand why, and it sure doesn’t seem like it’s affecting him that much, not when…

“… Cas?”

“Dean,” he manages to say keeping his voice straight. Dean looks at least surprised and Castiel shakes his head.

“What… she said you…”

“I… I just… I can’t.”

“You can’t what?”

Castiel doesn’t even know how he should say it, but then he opens his mouth and for the second time this evening he talks without even realizing what he’s saying.

“I tried. I’m trying. To be as I was before. I didn’t want to worry you either. I thought it would be the sensible course of action. But… it isn’t. It isn’t anymore. And not because they… cut my mojo,” he quotes without any humor in his voice and feeling his hands shaking helplessly, “but because before I would have never wished there was another way to summon Raphael.”

Dean comes closer, slowly, but Castiel takes only a breath. If he starts talking now he will never finish.

“Before, dying in order to fulfill my duty would have been something I felt thankful for. And now I feel everything but thankful. Then again I decided I would try to ignore it, but… just…” his voice breaks on that and he really can’t believe he’s saying this. “Would it really kill you to pretend that you feel at least sorry?”

Castiel doesn’t like the way his voice cracks and becomes impossibly lower on the last sentence without his control, but then he hears the muffled sound of steps and a small thud which sounds like knees hitting the floor. He opens his eyes and raises them and yes, Dean is actually on one knee in front of the bed and since Castiel is sitting and leaning forward they’re more or less at the same height; what leaves Castiel speechless though is the look on Dean’s face. His lips are stubbornly glued together and his eyes are impossibly wide and almost tearing up and the sight is enough for a lump to form in his throat.

“I’m… Cas, I’m just… it’s that… Sam’s gone, Bobby is on the other side of the country and fuck knows if he’s ever walking again and I can’t… I don’t want to deal with you dying again. You said it so matter-of-fact, fuck, and since you were back you’ve been… well, I get the whole angry at me part of the deal, but you seemed fine and… you just took it that way and I just didn’t want to… even think about it, I guess. But if… Christ, first you go and tell me all of that in the hospital and I’ll have to give you that you were right, and then you say you’re going to die like you’d say that you’re going fishing this weekend?”

Castiel could, and would, say a lot of things. He could say that in the hospital Dean just called Castiel’s remark upon himself. After everything, Dean had just had no right to make fun of one of the two things Castiel has left. He could say that he delivered the news about his highly probable death matter-of-fact because he just doesn’t know or remember how to be or do otherwise, or maybe it’s because it’s what he would have done before. But then Dean’s face crumbles into what can be described only as sincere concern and Castiel loses it.

“I don’t want to die,” he blurts as the words fight their way out of his mouth because he didn’t mean to say such a thing, he hadn’t planned on admitting such a human fear and he hadn’t meant to give in to this impulse, that has been there in the back of his head since he opened his eyes after dying, which was telling him that he could never be what he once was. It’s such a blow that he’s grateful he’s sitting because otherwise his knees would have probably given out, but he doesn’t have time to dwell about it because there’s an arm around his waist and one around his shoulder. He finds himself reaching out almost blindly and all of a sudden there’s a certain warmth spreading through his (his?) body as he grips Dean’s shoulders without even thinking about it. He feels Dean’s cheek against his neck and he buries his head against Dean’s shoulder; all of a sudden he needs this and he doesn’t even want to know why. He just wants it. Then Dean is speaking softly against the skin in the hollow of Castiel’s neck, his voice strained, and says fuck, Cas, do you think that I want you to?. Castiel wonders how could he have been so blind not to see through Dean’s facade. Once he could have told it the second he locked eyes with him, now maybe he still could have but… but his judgment had been clouded. He had assumed something on a first impression and then his head had started going its own way without bothering to double-check the facts. It should hit him even harder but it doesn’t because Dean has pressed himself even closer and it feels so good that Castiel thinks that he might… sit here quietly and spend the time they paid for like this.

It’s a tempting option. It really is. For a while it almost seems like it could really happen, but then Dean moves from him, enough to face him even if he doesn’t break the embrace; Castiel isn’t too sure that he wants to deal with this but Dean’s face shows just honest-to-God concern and he’s looking at him with something that Castiel thinks might be affection. Even if he doesn’t really want to inquire. He doesn’t want to risk a negative answer.

“So. She said…”

“She? Cassie?”

“Yeah. Uhm, she said something… about it being obvious that you were jonesing for someone else or whatever, she wasn’t too helpful when I asked for an explanation. Care to enlighten me?”

“Maybe it would be wiser not to…”

“Cas. No. Just no. Don’t put up that act now. Look at the good it has done until now.”

“You really need me to tell you when she figured it out in a minute?” he says, his voice low, his hands suddenly leaving Dean’s shoulders and gripping around the arms around his waist. He can’t shake a notion that the second Dean figures out he’ll leave and he doesn’t want to deal with it. He can’t deal with it.

“She…” Dean raises an eyebrow and Castiel would almost find it comical, if only it wasn’t everything but. “Wait a second, if… oh.”

Castiel can see Dean’s face lit up in understanding and he settles on looking down. He doesn’t think he can face him, even if at least he’s still here. He almost chokes when a couple of fingers pull his chin up with such a gentleness that it aches.

“I have to say I was kinda wondering why would you go and choose one who looked like my twin sister. Or am I getting it wrong?”

“No, you aren’t. I… I understand if…”

He never finishes that sentence because a hand reaches behind his head and pulls him forward; Dean’s lips meet his and Castiel stays frozen for a second, not knowing what to do or what he should take this for. But then fingers which were holding the back of his head are in his hair and he feels their tips slowly drawing circles just above his nape and Dean’s lips press a bit more against his, not forcing anything but with clear intentions. Castiel knows he should say no, there’s no way Dean isn’t doing this out of some sense of duty and that’s not what he wants, but as he sighs and parts his lips to give Dean access he finally fully understands why is that humans say that the flesh is weak.

As soon as he gives in, Dean brings him even closer as he traces Castiel’s bottom lip with his tongue; it’s barely a warning because then Dean kisses him fully and his tongue slowly maps every inch of Castiel’s mouth, still not rushing it. Castiel just goes on instinct there and when his tongue meets Dean’s he shivers; Dean’s hands are still carding through his hair and Castiel can’t wrap his head around how perfect does it feel, or around the way Dean touches him with what Castiel can’t not call affection at this point (for a second he thinks that it just drips from Dean’s fingers), or around how nothing he has ever felt in his existence could compare to this, no matter the circumstances. The kiss lasts for a while and Dean’s face remains just bare inches from is when it’s over. It takes Castiel three tries to find his voice.

“You don’t have to do this,” he whispers even if it physically pains him. It’d be so much easier to ignore it, but he’d rather not have this if it means that Dean is doing it just to do him one last favor.

“No, I don’t,” Dean agrees, but he doesn’t move. It’s a couple of seconds before he takes a breath and speaks again. “Case is… I want to.”

“If you’re…”

“Whatever you were going to say, no. Fine, I might have decided that no one dies a virgin under my watch, but if you think that I’d give you of everyone a pity fuck, think about it again. Even though… before… I mean… what about Jimmy? Did he go when you, er…”

Castiel takes a breath.

“He is here, but he’s… unresponsive. I tried to bring him to conscience a number of times already, but he just won’t. I don’t know what’s going on, Dean. And another reason I couldn’t bring myself to go along with her is that doing this with a stranger seemed disrespectful and I don’t want that. But…”

“This is different…?”

“Yes. I would like to think he would understand, even if as things are I don’t even have the option to ask him for permission. But… I think he would.”

Castiel doesn’t want to tell Dean that Jimmy would understand because Castiel is pretty sure that Jimmy felt for Amelia the way he’s feeling for Dean; it’s not something Dean needs to know at this point.

“Then… then case is, I still want to.”

Castiel then swallows and looks straight at Dean; if he was lying Castiel doubts he would hold his stare for long. Not only Dean keeps on looking at him, but there’s such sincerity in his eyes that Castiel can’t really believe that Dean is pretending anything. He knows him far too well and he isn’t. His (his?) heart’s beating speeds up so much that for a second he finds himself lacking air and he’s about to close the gap between him and Dean when Dean suddenly looks down and he’s definitely staring at his amulet now hanging from Castiel’s neck. He doesn’t look angry though, just merely surprised. Castiel figures he should just speak first.

“You told me not to lose it. I was keeping it in the coat, but if I was to…”

Dean’s hands gently frame his face and Castiel abruptly cuts the sentence there. His skin shivers under the touch, the fact that Dean’s fingers are unmistakably rough such a striking contrast to the impossibly gentle way they’re cupping his cheek; it wasn’t the reaction he had been expecting, not at all, even though he can’t surely complain about it. Oh, definitely not.

“Thanks,” Dean whispers then, and Castiel can’t really get why he’d say that, maybe because by wearing it he showed that he was listening when Dean told him to keep it safe; he doesn’t have time to think about it though, because then Dean slowly, gently pushes him back on the bed, then stops and Castiel raises his eyebrow.


“Stand up.”


“We’re doin’ this, we do it the proper way.”

Castiel doesn’t know what Dean means with proper, but he shrugs and stands up anyway. Dean gets rid of his jacket and lets it fall over Castiel’s coat. Then he goes towards the bed, pats it a couple of times and then runs his hand over the covers, probably to wipe away some dust or so Castiel figures. Dean pulls the covers up, then he kicks off his shoes and Castiel does the same. At this point Castiel doesn’t really know why is it that Dean is taking so much time but thankfully, after inspecting the contents of a drawer in the nighstand on the side of the bed and putting something in the pocket of his jeans, Dean turns in his direction and comes closer. When he takes his hand and leads him towards the bed without a word Castiel is pretty sure that if his heart’s beat speeds some more it’ll burst; he shivers in anticipation when he ends up standing between Dean and the bed and Dean’s hands slowly loosen his tie before taking it off and open every button of his shirt that wasn’t open already. One hand actually opens the buttons, the other traces some random shapes lightly on the just-exposed skin and while it’s a feather touch it’s enough to make Castiel’s blood boil, or something close to it.

He raises his hands shyly and pushes Dean’s flannel down, wanting to reciprocate the action but also wanting to know how it feels; when Dean takes his white shirt off him, Castiel just pulls on the hems of the t-shirt Dean was wearing under the flannel and at once Dean raises his arms and Castiel pulls it up.

He’s greeted with the sight of naked skin, the tone looking a bit off considering that the light in the room is dim and there’s a red filter on the lamp, flawless except for that handprint Castiel left on Dean’s shoulder. He aches to touch it, to find out what would happen if he does, but before he can actually do it Dean’s hands are on him again, tracing slowly a line along his hips before they settle on his belt and take it off. It falls to the ground with a dull thud and then Dean is kissing him again, his hands firm on Castiel’s hips, slow and thorough and Castiel decides to just... go for it, as Dean would put it. A hand uncertainly settles on Dean’s hip where the skin meets his jeans, the other goes to the scar. As soon as he touches it an electric jolt shots through seemingly each single nerve of his and he feels Dean moan against his mouth without breaking the kiss and oh, all of his blood is seemingly rushing in the lower parts of his body; then again, it feels good, no, it feels magnificent. He tightens his grip on Dean’s shoulder a bit, and Dean pushes him down firmly against the sheets which are at least soft and feel cool and clean against his back. Dean breaks the kiss, his breaths are harsh but warm against Castiel’s cheek and he’s shivering all over again. He feels overwhelmed, so overwhelmed, and they have barely started to…

His train of thought dies when Dean’s hands reach his waist and pull down his trousers and his underwear at the same time. They end up piled on the floor along with Dean’s shirts and Castiel doesn’t exactly know if it’s much of a fair thing that Dean is still wearing his jeans, but it’s a fleeting thought. It doesn’t last much because then Dean’s lips curl up in a small smirk; his hands close over Castiel’s knees spreading them slowly, enough to leave space for his head to drop down. The second Dean’s lips wrap around Castiel’s erection (and oh, he hadn’t exactly realized how hard he was until he had actually seen it) he loses any pretense of coherency. Dean takes him all the way in and there’s something sinful but just so unbearably alluring about the visual in front of him, about Dean’s expression as his head slowly moves up and down and he does things with his tongue that are making Castiel shiver all over again, about the way his eyes are not exactly open but not exactly closed either. There’s a hint of green that Castiel can distinguish even in the dim, red light; so beautiful, he thinks before Dean’s tongue flickers again. Castiel sees it in Dean’s face because he doesn’t close his eyes, but had he kept them closed, he could have felt Dean’s satisfaction when he thrusts his hips upward, grabbing the sheets in fistfuls. There are soft, greedy noises coming out from his own throat on their own and he’s vaguely aware that the more time passes the louder they get, but he finds out he doesn’t care. Not that anyone is going to be surprised, he thinks remembering the sounds he had heard when he had passed in front of those closed doors. Dean’s hands are still on his knees and Castiel is so caught up in the overwhelming sensation that he doesn’t notice that Dean has never really stopped spreading his legs gently; he only realizes that when Dean removes them both.

He doesn’t know what Dean is doing, there isn’t enough light, he can’t see Dean’s hands and sincerely, he can’t even think straight, but when a cold, slick finger presses against his entrance he understands at once. His hands go straight to Dean’s head and, fingers get tangled in his hair and he meant it to be encouraging, but it’s too much and when Dean’s tongue flickers again while that finger moves up and down he can’t hold it anymore. His fingers tug at Dean’s hair, someway he wants to warn him, but Dean doesn’t move an inch and that’s it, he comes in Dean’s mouth. It’s unlike anything he has ever experienced. It feels like his whole being is on fire, each sensation electrified; for the first time he feels at one with this flesh that he doesn’t dare to call his and he feels filled with a certain kind of warmth that he has positively never known before. It’s pleasing, so pleasing, and so sweet as it takes hold of him; his head falls back against the pillow and as some kind of clear thinking comes back to his head he realizes that he’s breathing heavily while he doesn’t need it and that there are droplets of sweat running along his forehead. It shouldn’t be happening but he doesn’t give it much thought, not when Dean is looking at him with the air of someone who knows exactly how much Castiel enjoyed this. If one can classify it as enjoying; Castiel doesn’t think it covers even half of it. Thing is, Dean has the face of someone who is good at something and knows it even too well; Castiel has to admit that he has every right to feel satisfied if he does indeed feel that way, but then he realizes that this might be the first time he has seen Dean look like this. He has two seconds in which he wishes he could see such an expression on Dean’s face in any other occasion, preferably when the matter isn’t Dean’s skills in bed but either his righteousness (Castiel thinks that Dean will never manage to think of himself in relation with that word), or the destiny he has to fulfill, or his self-worth. If only it could happen anytime soon, he thinks before realizing that Dean is lying on his side next to him and staring at him, his lips sticky and a hand touching Castiel’s hip.

“Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts now.”

“I… no. Far from that.”

“Good. ‘Cause, y’know, I’m pretty sure you enjoyed that but technically you’re still…”

Dean’s voice stops abruptly when Castiel reaches out with one hand and runs a finger along Dean’s lips. He isn’t doing it in order to make him stop talking, not really, but suddenly he feels curious and he wants to taste; his finger is sticky when he brings it to his own lips. It’s bitter but not unpleasant, just strange; he startles when a moan comes from Dean’s direction and Castiel has to smile just slightly when he sees that Dean is actually blushing.

“Sorry. Uh. It’s… just… that was… pretty hot.”

Castiel feels the corner of his lips pull up. He probably isn’t smiling too slightly anymore. He shakes his head for a second before turning back to Dean, who is still half-embarrassed and Castiel thinks that if he has to die tomorrow, then getting to see Dean like this probably is the one last blessing his Father decided to gift him with. Because while Castiel has known Dean to be something since the second he pulled him out of Hell, has been thinking of Dean in not exactly allowed terms more or less since he brought him back in time to witness what happened to his mother and has been using nothing short of beautiful to describe him for such a long time that he doesn’t even remember when he started, there’s something about how Dean looks in this very moment that leaves Castiel breathless.

It probably is the way his body is completely relaxed, it might be the slightly confused expression which in its utter normalcy shows that Dean isn’t thinking about Hell, the apocalypse, his brother, Castiel’s very possible death or anything else that might cause distress, it could also be the intimacy they’re sharing; whatever it is, Castiel knows that this is the way he wants to picture Dean in his head from now on if he lives and that if he dies, well, he’s grateful that he got to see him like this. He shakes his head and brings himself closer, enough to kiss Dean’s slightly parted lips and taste that bitterness again; he shivers again and he doesn’t notice that he has started to get hard again only when they part. Dean chuckles slightly as he looks down and Castiel feels embarrassed for a second.

“Looks like you’re impatient to see how I keep my word?”

Castiel brings his hand to Dean’s cheek, letting it rest there. His thumb traces a small circle on skin which is slightly rough but blessedly warm. He could say what he really thinks, but he has an idea that it would ruin the sort-of-easy mood established between them at this point and… he really doesn’t want to. There’ll be time for that later.

“Well, then why don’t you show me?”

A hand is on the back of his head and as Dean kneels on the mattress Castiel raises and does the same; Dean’s mouth is impossibly hot and wet again and Castiel presses closer when Dean’s fingers tangle in his hair. His own hands go straight to Dean’s jeans though, he has decided that someone in here is too clothed and it’s not him; he unzips them and brings them down, not really surprised when he feels (rather than see, since at the moment his eyes are closed) that he isn’t wearing any underwear. The kiss breaks then and Castiel opens his eyes; Dean is taking something out of the pocket, probably whatever was in the drawer before, and Castiel thinks he knows the reason Dean’s finger was so slick, before. The thought sends blood pooling in his groin again and he licks his lips as Dean gets off the bed and gets rid of the jeans before joining on the mattress again. He’s hard, Castiel notices, very hard, and he can’t help feeling unreasonably pleased because after all it’s because of him, and something tells him that it won’t be much before he joins Dean again. Or better, he feels that he will indeed join him soon. Dean comes closer again then, his voice a low whisper against Castiel’s ear.

“Front or back? Your choice.”

“Front,” Castiel answers at once. He wants to see Dean’s face, no way he would not. Dean blinks once and nods, then grabs a pillow, tells him to lie down and places the pillow under his back. Castiel doesn’t have an idea whether this could hurt or not, he knows it’s supposed to and he knows he isn’t supposed to feel it, but who knows. At this point he isn’t sure of much. Meanwhile Dean is kneeling between his legs again, spreading them gently as before, his face still hovering more or less over Castiel’s chest. He gasps in pleasure when Dean lowers his head and presses a soft kiss in the hollow of his neck; the amulet is pressed between their bodies and Castiel can’t help thinking that it should be the other way, but he momentarily forgets about it when Dean’s lips leave his neck and he stands back a second in order to get the lube. It’s a spur of the moment decision when Castiel takes Dean’s wrist in one hand and the lube in the other. Dean swallows when he realizes what is that he’s about to do and Castiel’s fingers shake slightly as he pours the lube over Dean’s fingers on the hand whose wrist he’s holding. He thinks one hand is enough and lets it go when he’s done; he spreads his legs some more and then Dean’s finger is there again, pressing and pushing in, slick and cool and oh, it feels incredible now that he’s concentrating just on that. Dean’s other hand is resting on Castiel’s hip as he works a second finger in and he really isn’t thinking when he grabs Dean’s wrist again and kisses the center of his palm. Dean looks up at him, clearly he wasn’t expecting it, but there’s something undone in his eyes that makes Castiel think that it was a good idea. Dean is still working two fingers up and down when Castiel proceeds on kissing the tips of his fingers and Dean moans softly again; he adds a third finger slowly, impossibly slowly, and it’s so much and it feels just barely intrusive and it’s probably the reason why he stops thinking half-rationally again and takes Dean’s index and middle finger into his mouth, running his tongue along rough fingertips that were not as rough when Castiel re-made them. Dean moans louder then, and when he looks up at Castiel there’s a look of such want in his eyes that Castiel finds himself enraptured, again.

“Fuck, Cas, that’s… that’s… just… you have no idea, don’t you?”

Castiel doesn’t have an idea, not really, but he figures he’s doing something right here and takes Dean’s fingers in deeper. Dean’s hand suddenly leaves his entrance and he manages to get some more lube on his hand before pushing those three fingers inside him again, as farther as they’ll go, his breath becoming more shallow and less coordinated the more they go on. Then he snatches his other hand away, too, and Castiel sees Dean going for what’s left of the lube again. He stops him another time, figuring that if he doesn’t do this now he might not have the chance again; he pours some over his palm, brings Dean forward and proceeds to slick Dean’s erection as best as he manages. Dean moans even louder than before and starts muttering a collection of blasphemies as Castiel’s hand keeps on touching, the sensation of pleasing someone else as good as being pleasured is (at least in Castiel’s opinion).

“Fuck, that’s… Jesus fucking Christ, Cas.”

Castiel doesn’t bother to hide a quirk of his lips as he withdraws his hand; Dean mutters something about legs needing to be raised and Castiel does. He hooks them loosely behind Dean’s waist (and now he does appreciate the pillow, indeed) and then he goes breathless when Dean’s cock presses against his entrance, so impossibly slowly. Dean keeps on staring down at him and Castiel nods as he returns the stare; when Dean pushes forward it does hurt, but not that much really, and Castiel won’t lose time wondering whether it was because Dean didn’t cut the time on preparation or why is it that he does feel some pain after all. It doesn’t really matter, not when Dean pushes further until he’s almost buried inside him and Castiel can’t help crying out in pleasure the second Dean hits what he figures is the right spot. Right indeed; it’s even better than everything else up to now and when he whispers ‘more,’ Dean just smirks, pulls backward, then pushes forward going a lot less slowly and Castiel moans in approval when he hits that place again. And again. And again. And then he starts meeting Dean’s thrusts; he tightens the hold of his legs, pushes his hips up trying to match Dean’s pace which is just right, neither too slow or too fast, increasing steadily. Castiel doesn’t know how much it lasts; he knows that at one point he feels Dean’s hand wrap around his erection and it starts stroking, and he can feel that he’s not going to last much. He throws his arms behind Dean’s neck and brings him down in a kiss which is frantic and messy and all wetness and wrong angles but that feels just right. Dean is still muttering something unintelligible under his breath and then Castiel looks right up at him, wanting to see every second of this until it’s over; Dean smirks before leaning down and whisper, ‘Will you come for me now?’ in his ear and that’s it, that’s it again, he comes against Dean’s hand still looking at him. He doesn’t even realize he has all but screamed Dean’s name so loud that half of the house must have heard as a wave of bliss fills him, even stronger than the first; and then there’s a strangled ‘Fuck, Cas’, coming from Dean’s throat as he comes inside him, his arms around Castiel’s shoulders and his head buried against Castiel’s neck before it turns a bit so that they’re facing. It’s long and hard and it feels so good, and scratch everything he has thought until this point, Dean’s face has never looked more beautiful than it is now, and Castiel just can’t help it. When he feels that Dean’s orgasm is almost over, he kisses him again and Dean goes with it with such an ease that Castiel can’t help hoping against hope that he survives tomorrow.

“You were right,” he whispers a couple of minutes later, when Dean has pulled out and now lies again on his side, his hand on Castiel’s hip again.

“’Bout what?”

“Sitting quietly in the hotel really never was my best idea.”

Dean laughs softly as he shakes his head, looking at him with a certain fondness that Castiel wasn’t expecting; he feels his blush creeping up and he hopes that it isn’t too visible in the red light. Dean’s hand reaches for the amulet and turns it in his fingers for a second before letting it go.

“Dean?” Castiel asks then, his hand reaching for the other man’s before it lands anywhere else.


“If tomorrow I… well… I just want you to know I don’t regret doing what I’ve done. There’s a lot I regret, but never… never choosing to help you. What I said, I did mean it, but never think I’d have done otherwise.”

Dean gives his hand a sympathetic squeeze then, and Castiel breathes out in relief. If in the end it turns out that he gave everything up and died all for this, then he knows it’ll be worth it.

Dean looks at the clock, then, and sits up.

“We still have some time but… I guess we should clear out? I know we got it covered for two hours but still. We shouldn’t exactly be using this place.”

“I guess not.”

Dean nods and goes into a small bathroom (Castiel figures there’s a reason this is the best room of the house). Castiel breathes, closes his eyes and in a blink he’s as clean as it goes and with his clothes back on. Seemingly he’s still able to do this. When Dean comes out a few minutes after with a towel around his waist he merely raises an eyebrow and just puts on his clothes quickly before heading out after checking that they didn’t forget anything.

As they get out, Cassie winks in Castiel’s direction; he thinks his attempt to wink back was very poor, but he gets out just after so he won’t ever know.

When Dean checks the hour, it’s two in the night.

“You said sunrise?”

“I said sunrise.”

“We have still four hours. Guess it was enough for the night and you don’t want to try alcohol now, right?”

“I… well, I believe I’d rather try that another time.”

“Yeah, su… another time, you said?”

Dean raises his eyebrow, looking at Castiel like he can’t actually believe he implied that there’s a chance they might have another time at all. Castiel shrugs and looks down at the street; he doesn’t want to say anything, the hope is too fleeting, but… who knows.

“Who knows. My Father works in mysterious ways and I still have faith that he’s somewhere. He looked out for us once, I will believe that He will do it twice.”

Dean shakes his head again, but at least he doesn’t try to throw at him any smart remark concerning flatbread, for which Castiel is entirely grateful.

“Well, sure as fuck I hope He will.”

Castiel nods, feeling grateful that at least Dean is acknowledging it.

“Also because He can’t let you die when you had sex just once. I mean, that’d be just cruel, wouldn’t it?”

Somehow Castiel knows he really doesn’t mean it. Which is fine enough with him.

“Yesterday I’d have told you to quit with the blasphemies.”

“And now?”

“Now I still think that you should quit them, but I also think you do have a point.”

Dean looks at him like he can’t just believe what he said and Castiel feels kind of satisfied. Then Dean just opens the door of the car, mutters something like crazy angels under his breath and when he asks whether he’s coming or fucking not, Castiel doesn’t say anything and climbs into the passenger seat.

Tags: character: castiel, character: dean winchester, fanfiction:supernatural, pairing: dean/castiel, table: sacred_20
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