Healing Hands
Title: Healing Hands
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Word Count: 2200
Spoilers: For 4.1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters and I am not making any money off of this fanfiction.
A/N: Written over a span of four or five hours at around two in the morning. Inspired when a friend asked for a massage and yes, I zone out when I'm giving massages. Un-beta'd. Terribly sorry for the lack of real whump, but hey, when I started this wasn't even going to have porn. This is for Val, who had no reason to expect it at all. Surprise!
Dean laid flat on his stomach, waiting for the dull throb in his back to die down to numbness. Despite the hot pain, he felt good, and he even smiled to himself as he remembered the day. He and Sam had managed to cleanse the little Ohio town of one nasty clan of witches, but not before on of them managed to flay his back so that wide strips of skin hung limply off his body.
He had experience worse pain; it was not bad enough to detract from his feeling of victory.
When they returned to the motel, Sam had stitched and dressed his wounds and they talked idly about leaving in the morning. They feel into silence, Dean contemplating witches and fire, Sam researching hex bags for the name of a rare herb that would combat illness when used alone.
It was only a matter of time before, assuming Dean was sleeping off the pain, Sam donned his jacket an left the motel room to meet Ruby. Dean did not stop his brother or ask where he was going so late, simply because he was tired of hearing Sam lie.
Dean had only been on his own for a short time when he was suddenly aware that he was not alone. Lifting himself onto his elbows, he craned his neck and was not surprised to see the resident angel standing at the foot of his bed, watching him with his usual stony expression. Dean gave up the effort of holding himself upright, collapsing face-first into his pillow and waiting silently for Castiel to issue a command or criticize his business with the witches- as was his way. That being, what actually came out of his mouth was a surprise for Dean.
"You fought well today, Dean."
Dean was silent, unsure how to reply to an unexpected compliment from and angel, and instead he twisted around painfully to get a good look at Castiel. He remained as stoic as ever, blue eyes strking and mouth held in a flat line. At a loss, Dean grunted a simple, "Thanks."
"You're injured," Castiel pointed out- sometimes Dean couldn't believe the angel's tendency for pointing out the fucking obvious. "You should not have let them take you by surprise. It was clumsy."
Dean's bemusement turned to irritation, and he scowled. "I thought you just said I did well," he growled, rolling onto his stomach and lying flat once more. He groaned at the effort. "Did you want something or are you just here to be contradictory? Because, y'know, I wouldn't actually be surprised if that was the case. Cryptic angels-"
"I came to attend your wounds."
"They've already been taken care of, thanks. Sam stitched them up."
"I can head them," Castiel said, and Dean couldn't look to see but he was sure he heard a trace of impatience in the angel's words. Dean was silent for a moment, juding the idea of telling the angel to go tend someone who wanted it, but he cold not deny that the idea appealed- for reasons other than getting his injuries healed, and these he had difficulty contemplating. After deliberating to himself, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Have at it."
Dean expected Castiel to join him on the bed; one of the luxuries of this particular motel was queen-sized accomodations, and it would be uncomfortable to reach for the middle from a standing position on either side. However, the perceptive hunter was caught totally off-guiad when Castiel sat up him, comfortably straddling Dean's jean-clad thighs.
"You comfy?" Dean snipped sarcastically, but Castiel did not answer him. He laid a palm flat on a long, neatly-sewn cut between Dean's shoulderblades. The sting of the healing skin quickly gave way to a pleasantly tingly, warm sensation that could only be Castiel's angel mojo mending the wound. The new feeling drove a gasp out of Dean, and he buried his face into the bleached-white pillow, hoping the angel had not heard him.
As Castiel worked his way down Dean's back, mending broken skin and smoothing his gentle palms over the new, scarless expanse left beind, Dean started to care less and less about being heard. Castiel's hands were like a magical healing balm, and they left warmth and light in their wake. Dean writhed under the attention, and by the time Castiel had fixed every edge of torn skin pleasure flowed through Dean's body,through his back to his fingertips and toes, and even to other, more intimate areas.
Heat and pleasure pooled low in Dean's stomach, aiding in no small way to his overall feeling of bliss. He was thankful to lie face-down on the bed so that such reactions were easy to hide- though he doubted Castiel would have known what an erection meant, anyway. The angel was not always privy to human emotions.
At that moment, Castiel bent forward and planted a firm kiss tenderly on the base of Dean's neck, eliciting a bitten moan from Dean as hot arrows of pleasure shot purposefully to his groin- okay, maybe he did know what he was doing. Dean's hips twitched at the newfound arousal, seeking friction from the bed, and it took an abnormal amount of effort to still them.
Though all of Dean's serious gashes were healed, Castiel's hands lingered, rubbing and caressing, massaging his back. His lips, though no longer kissing Dean's skin, were mere inches away, lingering in the air as though simply searching for another target, and every intention to beeline there as soon as it was spotted.
Dean clenched his teeth, bit his tongue, held his breath in every attempt to silence the deep groans rolling up from the back of his throat. Part of him desperately wanted Castiel to leave so he could take care of himself as oh god he longed to do, but another, secret, sinful part of him wanted the angel to turn his attentions lower and please christ don't stop.
Castiel was kissing a soft, dry trail down Dean's spine, making him shudder with every bare touch. It was not until Castiel landed a tender kiss in the hollow dip of Dea's back, and pleasure coursed through him in waves that he found the presence of mind to twist around and shove Castiel off of him with a powerful forearm- though in the back of his mind he knew that woul not have worked if Castiel had been on his guard.
Now Castiel was sprawled on the edge of the bed, his tie tossed haphazardly over one shoulder and his coat- wow, to Dean's surprise- was nowhere to be seen. Dean tried to remember if he'd been wearing it when he appeared or if this was a more recent development, and found that he could not. Not that he thought about it for too long, as he soon saw that Castiel was undoubtedly staring straight at his crotch. When his own glance darted south, he noticed-again, with great surprise- that the front of Castiel's slacks was graced with a bulge were similar to his own.
Dean did not know what to say. He cleared his through, red-faced. "Look, Cas-" he began, but he didn't know what to say from there, so he fell silent. Castiel filled in the gap.
"Why did you wish me to stop, Dean?" the angel asked, furrowing his brow in the way he did when he did not understand something. "Was I causing you pain?"
Somehow Dean could tell that the angel knew his actions were nothing short of manifested pleasure, but he still accepted the distraction of answering the question. "No, Cas, no, it was... nothing like that. It was good." Dean took a breath, swallowing and wetting his lips. "It was really good. That's... kind of the problem."
Understanding, Castiel's eyes focused once again on Dean's concealed hardness, and Dean was about to tell him to quit it when Castiel recovered himself and leaned forward, kissing Dean delicately on the lips.
Dean's first reaction is oh hallelujah finally god yes, but his pesky presence of mind was quick to overbear it with wrong bad stop don't! Yet when Dean raised a hand to push Castiel away again, it instead fell across the angel's neck and held him tightly, pulling him closer that they pressed together, from lips to chests to thighs, as close as they could get. Dean can feel Castiel's hardness level with his own and he pulls him down flat only so that he could arch up and get closer. He could hear Castiel moan at the sudden pleasure, and he parted his lips, pulling the angel in, tasting him.
One hand supporting Castiel on the mattress, he drops his free hand to the buckle of Dean's belt and undoes it with such ease Dean suspects there was mojo involved. He wanted to groan in frustration when Castiel reared away from Dean and removes hi tie and shirt. He paused for a moment with his hand on his beltbuckle, watching Dean watch him, an suddenly the only sound in the room is their breathing.
Dean raised a hand to Castiel's hip, stroking a thumb in easy circles over the sharp bone there. As Castiel stared at Dean, his eyes darkened- the shadowed with something like hunger or lust, and Dean was pretty sure his own eyes displayed a matching sentiment. Castiel slid his own hand across his belt to cover Dean's and hold him there and slid a knee over Dean's waist, settling and leaning forward to kiss the man again. Dean let their tongues slide together, loving the warmth and wetness of Castiel's mouth so much he loathe to turn his attentions otherwise, yet he was desperate for more. He snaked a hand down his angel's chest, pausing or just long enough to brush a thumb over one flat nipple- he swallowed Castiel's startled gasp- and slid lower. Dean tickled the dusting of hair above Castiel's waistband and followed them further, tucking his fingers below the belt and pressing into the skin there.
Castiel broke away from Dean's kiss, panting and shuddering, and tipped his forehead to meet Dean's. Dean pulled his fingers free and worked at Castiel's belt- no easy feat with one hand and no mojo- then freed the button and zipper, gasping with Castiel when he slid his hand into the heat of Castiel's boxers and wrapped his fingers around the angel's rigid flesh.
Castiel bucked sharply at the new sensation, uttering a broken, "Dean-" that faded into a moan. Dean's own cock, still trapped beneath the cruel jeans, throbbed anew, because the sound was like a damn orgasm. With frenzied movement, he set at his own pants and sighed at the relief when, a moment later, he pulled himself free.
The angel had taken the opportunity to push his own slacks and boxers down past his hips, but he lacks the rive to shove them any lower than his thighs before he lowered himself over Dean and began to thrust, hard, against him. After one, two powerful thrusts, their flesh aligned and it was perfect and oh god yes right right there.
"God, Cas!" Dean moaned, trying to thrust, grin, do anything, but Castiel held him down. At last Castiel allowed some give, but he used it to grab both of them together and holy shit because that is the most amazing thing in the world.
"Ah, fuck, Cas!" Dean came with a strangled cry, grasping Castiel's hips and thrusting up at the same time. The orgasm was better than any that Dean had ever had and god, who knew it could be this perfect with a guy?
Only Casiel wasn't a guy, Dean reminded himself. Castiel was an angel, and at that moment Dean made an angel come.
Castiel groaned firecely when he came, bucking erratically against Dean's softened length and grinding down. He cried, "Oh, Dean!" and the sound only made Dean want to hold him closer as warm wtness spilled over his hand and onto Dean's belly, mixing with Dean's, already there.
For long moments, man and angel stayed where they were, panting and sated. Castiel sat astride Dean's hips and did not seem to want to move,but he did, sliding off Dean and lying on the bed close beside him. Dean rolled so that he was half on Castiel and half off and kissed him gently, tiredly. He slid away only far enough to lie comfortably on the pillow because great sex left him exhausted.
"Dean," Castiel said, and Dean wondered what he could possibly have to say after that, and all Dean wanted to do was sleep. Castiel opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind and started again. "Your brother is returning. I must go."
Dean watched him carefully. For several seconds the angel made no move to leave, then he leaned over Dean and pressed a light kiss against his lips.
"You should take a shower," Castiel said, stroking Dean's jaw affectionately, and he was gone before Dean could manage a smirk.
Rating: NC-17
Characters: Dean/Castiel, Sam
Word Count: 2200
Spoilers: For 4.1
Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural or any of the characters and I am not making any money off of this fanfiction.
A/N: Written over a span of four or five hours at around two in the morning. Inspired when a friend asked for a massage and yes, I zone out when I'm giving massages. Un-beta'd. Terribly sorry for the lack of real whump, but hey, when I started this wasn't even going to have porn. This is for Val, who had no reason to expect it at all. Surprise!
Dean laid flat on his stomach, waiting for the dull throb in his back to die down to numbness. Despite the hot pain, he felt good, and he even smiled to himself as he remembered the day. He and Sam had managed to cleanse the little Ohio town of one nasty clan of witches, but not before on of them managed to flay his back so that wide strips of skin hung limply off his body.
He had experience worse pain; it was not bad enough to detract from his feeling of victory.
When they returned to the motel, Sam had stitched and dressed his wounds and they talked idly about leaving in the morning. They feel into silence, Dean contemplating witches and fire, Sam researching hex bags for the name of a rare herb that would combat illness when used alone.
It was only a matter of time before, assuming Dean was sleeping off the pain, Sam donned his jacket an left the motel room to meet Ruby. Dean did not stop his brother or ask where he was going so late, simply because he was tired of hearing Sam lie.
Dean had only been on his own for a short time when he was suddenly aware that he was not alone. Lifting himself onto his elbows, he craned his neck and was not surprised to see the resident angel standing at the foot of his bed, watching him with his usual stony expression. Dean gave up the effort of holding himself upright, collapsing face-first into his pillow and waiting silently for Castiel to issue a command or criticize his business with the witches- as was his way. That being, what actually came out of his mouth was a surprise for Dean.
"You fought well today, Dean."
Dean was silent, unsure how to reply to an unexpected compliment from and angel, and instead he twisted around painfully to get a good look at Castiel. He remained as stoic as ever, blue eyes strking and mouth held in a flat line. At a loss, Dean grunted a simple, "Thanks."
"You're injured," Castiel pointed out- sometimes Dean couldn't believe the angel's tendency for pointing out the fucking obvious. "You should not have let them take you by surprise. It was clumsy."
Dean's bemusement turned to irritation, and he scowled. "I thought you just said I did well," he growled, rolling onto his stomach and lying flat once more. He groaned at the effort. "Did you want something or are you just here to be contradictory? Because, y'know, I wouldn't actually be surprised if that was the case. Cryptic angels-"
"I came to attend your wounds."
"They've already been taken care of, thanks. Sam stitched them up."
"I can head them," Castiel said, and Dean couldn't look to see but he was sure he heard a trace of impatience in the angel's words. Dean was silent for a moment, juding the idea of telling the angel to go tend someone who wanted it, but he cold not deny that the idea appealed- for reasons other than getting his injuries healed, and these he had difficulty contemplating. After deliberating to himself, he simply shrugged his shoulders and said, "Have at it."
Dean expected Castiel to join him on the bed; one of the luxuries of this particular motel was queen-sized accomodations, and it would be uncomfortable to reach for the middle from a standing position on either side. However, the perceptive hunter was caught totally off-guiad when Castiel sat up him, comfortably straddling Dean's jean-clad thighs.
"You comfy?" Dean snipped sarcastically, but Castiel did not answer him. He laid a palm flat on a long, neatly-sewn cut between Dean's shoulderblades. The sting of the healing skin quickly gave way to a pleasantly tingly, warm sensation that could only be Castiel's angel mojo mending the wound. The new feeling drove a gasp out of Dean, and he buried his face into the bleached-white pillow, hoping the angel had not heard him.
As Castiel worked his way down Dean's back, mending broken skin and smoothing his gentle palms over the new, scarless expanse left beind, Dean started to care less and less about being heard. Castiel's hands were like a magical healing balm, and they left warmth and light in their wake. Dean writhed under the attention, and by the time Castiel had fixed every edge of torn skin pleasure flowed through Dean's body,through his back to his fingertips and toes, and even to other, more intimate areas.
Heat and pleasure pooled low in Dean's stomach, aiding in no small way to his overall feeling of bliss. He was thankful to lie face-down on the bed so that such reactions were easy to hide- though he doubted Castiel would have known what an erection meant, anyway. The angel was not always privy to human emotions.
At that moment, Castiel bent forward and planted a firm kiss tenderly on the base of Dean's neck, eliciting a bitten moan from Dean as hot arrows of pleasure shot purposefully to his groin- okay, maybe he did know what he was doing. Dean's hips twitched at the newfound arousal, seeking friction from the bed, and it took an abnormal amount of effort to still them.
Though all of Dean's serious gashes were healed, Castiel's hands lingered, rubbing and caressing, massaging his back. His lips, though no longer kissing Dean's skin, were mere inches away, lingering in the air as though simply searching for another target, and every intention to beeline there as soon as it was spotted.
Dean clenched his teeth, bit his tongue, held his breath in every attempt to silence the deep groans rolling up from the back of his throat. Part of him desperately wanted Castiel to leave so he could take care of himself as oh god he longed to do, but another, secret, sinful part of him wanted the angel to turn his attentions lower and please christ don't stop.
Castiel was kissing a soft, dry trail down Dean's spine, making him shudder with every bare touch. It was not until Castiel landed a tender kiss in the hollow dip of Dea's back, and pleasure coursed through him in waves that he found the presence of mind to twist around and shove Castiel off of him with a powerful forearm- though in the back of his mind he knew that woul not have worked if Castiel had been on his guard.
Now Castiel was sprawled on the edge of the bed, his tie tossed haphazardly over one shoulder and his coat- wow, to Dean's surprise- was nowhere to be seen. Dean tried to remember if he'd been wearing it when he appeared or if this was a more recent development, and found that he could not. Not that he thought about it for too long, as he soon saw that Castiel was undoubtedly staring straight at his crotch. When his own glance darted south, he noticed-again, with great surprise- that the front of Castiel's slacks was graced with a bulge were similar to his own.
Dean did not know what to say. He cleared his through, red-faced. "Look, Cas-" he began, but he didn't know what to say from there, so he fell silent. Castiel filled in the gap.
"Why did you wish me to stop, Dean?" the angel asked, furrowing his brow in the way he did when he did not understand something. "Was I causing you pain?"
Somehow Dean could tell that the angel knew his actions were nothing short of manifested pleasure, but he still accepted the distraction of answering the question. "No, Cas, no, it was... nothing like that. It was good." Dean took a breath, swallowing and wetting his lips. "It was really good. That's... kind of the problem."
Understanding, Castiel's eyes focused once again on Dean's concealed hardness, and Dean was about to tell him to quit it when Castiel recovered himself and leaned forward, kissing Dean delicately on the lips.
Dean's first reaction is oh hallelujah finally god yes, but his pesky presence of mind was quick to overbear it with wrong bad stop don't! Yet when Dean raised a hand to push Castiel away again, it instead fell across the angel's neck and held him tightly, pulling him closer that they pressed together, from lips to chests to thighs, as close as they could get. Dean can feel Castiel's hardness level with his own and he pulls him down flat only so that he could arch up and get closer. He could hear Castiel moan at the sudden pleasure, and he parted his lips, pulling the angel in, tasting him.
One hand supporting Castiel on the mattress, he drops his free hand to the buckle of Dean's belt and undoes it with such ease Dean suspects there was mojo involved. He wanted to groan in frustration when Castiel reared away from Dean and removes hi tie and shirt. He paused for a moment with his hand on his beltbuckle, watching Dean watch him, an suddenly the only sound in the room is their breathing.
Dean raised a hand to Castiel's hip, stroking a thumb in easy circles over the sharp bone there. As Castiel stared at Dean, his eyes darkened- the shadowed with something like hunger or lust, and Dean was pretty sure his own eyes displayed a matching sentiment. Castiel slid his own hand across his belt to cover Dean's and hold him there and slid a knee over Dean's waist, settling and leaning forward to kiss the man again. Dean let their tongues slide together, loving the warmth and wetness of Castiel's mouth so much he loathe to turn his attentions otherwise, yet he was desperate for more. He snaked a hand down his angel's chest, pausing or just long enough to brush a thumb over one flat nipple- he swallowed Castiel's startled gasp- and slid lower. Dean tickled the dusting of hair above Castiel's waistband and followed them further, tucking his fingers below the belt and pressing into the skin there.
Castiel broke away from Dean's kiss, panting and shuddering, and tipped his forehead to meet Dean's. Dean pulled his fingers free and worked at Castiel's belt- no easy feat with one hand and no mojo- then freed the button and zipper, gasping with Castiel when he slid his hand into the heat of Castiel's boxers and wrapped his fingers around the angel's rigid flesh.
Castiel bucked sharply at the new sensation, uttering a broken, "Dean-" that faded into a moan. Dean's own cock, still trapped beneath the cruel jeans, throbbed anew, because the sound was like a damn orgasm. With frenzied movement, he set at his own pants and sighed at the relief when, a moment later, he pulled himself free.
The angel had taken the opportunity to push his own slacks and boxers down past his hips, but he lacks the rive to shove them any lower than his thighs before he lowered himself over Dean and began to thrust, hard, against him. After one, two powerful thrusts, their flesh aligned and it was perfect and oh god yes right right there.
"God, Cas!" Dean moaned, trying to thrust, grin, do anything, but Castiel held him down. At last Castiel allowed some give, but he used it to grab both of them together and holy shit because that is the most amazing thing in the world.
"Ah, fuck, Cas!" Dean came with a strangled cry, grasping Castiel's hips and thrusting up at the same time. The orgasm was better than any that Dean had ever had and god, who knew it could be this perfect with a guy?
Only Casiel wasn't a guy, Dean reminded himself. Castiel was an angel, and at that moment Dean made an angel come.
Castiel groaned firecely when he came, bucking erratically against Dean's softened length and grinding down. He cried, "Oh, Dean!" and the sound only made Dean want to hold him closer as warm wtness spilled over his hand and onto Dean's belly, mixing with Dean's, already there.
For long moments, man and angel stayed where they were, panting and sated. Castiel sat astride Dean's hips and did not seem to want to move,but he did, sliding off Dean and lying on the bed close beside him. Dean rolled so that he was half on Castiel and half off and kissed him gently, tiredly. He slid away only far enough to lie comfortably on the pillow because great sex left him exhausted.
"Dean," Castiel said, and Dean wondered what he could possibly have to say after that, and all Dean wanted to do was sleep. Castiel opened his mouth, but seemed to change his mind and started again. "Your brother is returning. I must go."
Dean watched him carefully. For several seconds the angel made no move to leave, then he leaned over Dean and pressed a light kiss against his lips.
"You should take a shower," Castiel said, stroking Dean's jaw affectionately, and he was gone before Dean could manage a smirk.