Pulling the Heart [dean/castiel][s/a]
Title: Pulling the Heart
Pairing/Character(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spoilers for 6.18 - Fronteirland.
It’s different then when he went in for Bobby’s soul. Dean’s soul is right there, and Castiel is overwhelmed by the intensity of it as he pushes his curled fingers further into Dean’s stomach, through the pressure. Pleasure jolts and sparks endlessly through his body along with the pain, rippling through his muscles like lighting. Dean’s head is thrown back and he’s biting down hard on the belt, eyes squeezed shut, light filling the room as Castiel reaches deeper, taking in the incredible energy that surrounds him. His mouth opens and he thinks he’s going to cry out but instead it’s just light, pouring out and silhouetting Dean as his fingers wrap tightly around his soul.
Warning: Addictive tendencies
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 4,133
A/N: for deancaskink . Please ignore all stupid typos or whatever, I just needed to get it posted.
“You’re not okay.”
Castiel looks at Dean - meets his eyes - and says, “I’m fine.”
He’s getting used to lying.
Dean narrows his eyes and glares. “You’re a liar.”
Castiel licks his lips. Dean has a knack for only noticing when he’s lying at certain points. Or maybe he just hides it. Maybe he knows all of lies Cas has been telling, just doesn’t act upon them.
Castiel lowers his gaze. Clasps his hands in his lap. “It’s war, Dean. What do you expect me to be?”
“I expect you to care for yourself.” Dean sounds strangely hostile, protective and angry. Castiel takes a breath and looks back up. “And I want you to let me help you. There’s got to be something I can do.”
“There is nothing you can do.”
Castiel hates doing it, leaving Dean hanging like this, but he can’t stay. He can’t stay because if he stays, he might just make things worse.
-
Dean, however, is persistent. Castiel can hear him praying almost constantly, and he doesn’t think Dean is even always aware of his actions. Sometimes they’re just stray thoughts that Castiel hears (‘Cas, where are you? Please be okay,’) and it hurts him to hear Dean’s voice, faint in the back of his head.
And then Dean’s voice is clear, intensely deliberate, and Castiel is pulled out of battle by the sheer force of it. He stumbles when he lands in Bobby’s living room and stares, mouth agape, at Dean.
“How did you do that?” he whispers and Dean frowns and shrugs.
“I just really needed you to be here. Maybe it’s that profound bond at work.”
Castiel lets out a breath and puts his hand to his forehead, pressing. He’s a nervous wreck. “You shouldn’t have called, we were fighting an important battle -”
Dean cuts him off before he can continue. “I want to help you heal.”
Castiel stares at Dean for a long moment and licks his lips. “You can’t,” he lies through his teeth, though he knows that Dean knows he’s lying. Dean rolls his eyes quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. The motion is tight and annoyed, as if he’s angry at Castiel for doing what needs to be done. Dean might just be angry.
“Who are you foolin’, Cas? No one?” He laughs humorlessly. “I know that…souls make you stronger. They make angels stronger. I figured it out - why you were so powerful when we first met, why bullets and knives didn’t even make you flinch. They do now - I’ve noticed that. You can’t be killed by them, but you bleed and it hurts, doesn’t it? It’s because of when you pulled me out of Hell, you touched my soul.”
Dean pulls off his jacket and pushes the sleeve up of his t-shirt, revealing the red, hand shaped mark on his skin. “I don’t know the details, and I doubt you really do either, but this is why we’re connected or whatever, right? Because you held my soul and basically dragged it through hellfire. Right?”
Dean stares at Castiel until he looks at him. “Right?” he echoes.
“You’re…correct,” Castiel answers slowly, though he’s slightly annoyed. “But you saw what happened to Bobby. You saw what it did to both of us. It…reaching for someone’s soul is a painful, excruciating process. I didn’t want to put Bobby through that, and I don’t want to do it to you. It’s not worth it if you die.”
“We’re connected, Cas,” Dean breathes. “Come on. Please. I want you to.”
“Dean.”
“Cas.”
Castiel closes his eyes. “Your soul would be…it would be preferable,” he admits, though he doesn’t want to. “You are a righteous man, the righteous man, even though there is currently no apocalypse. Your soul is more powerful than any I’ve ever seen before. Pulling you out was difficult because you are such a powerful being.”
Dean licks his lips, the movement barely even noticeable.
“You’ll…you want to do this?”
“Yes. Cas.”
Castiel still isn’t sure but then Dean kisses him, makes the certainty clear in the way he moves his mouth and he knows he has no other choice. Dean pulls off Cas’ belt all on his own without even looking up from Cas’ waist, and bites down on the soft leather, sitting back and staring up at Castiel as Castiel rolls up his sleeve. He touches Dean first, gently, kissing his temple. “I’ll go slowly.”
It’s different then when he went in for Bobby’s soul. Dean’s soul is right there, and Castiel is overwhelmed by the intensity of it as he pushes his curled fingers further into Dean’s stomach, through the pressure. Pleasure jolts and sparks endlessly through his body along with the pain, rippling through his muscles like lighting. Dean’s head is thrown back and he’s biting down hard on the belt, eyes squeezed shut, light filling the room as Castiel reaches deeper, taking in the incredible energy that surrounds him. His mouth opens and he thinks he’s going to cry out but instead it’s just light, pouring out and silhouetting Dean as his fingers wrap tightly around his soul.
It’s the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever witnessed and he doesn’t want to pull out, just wants to be touching Dean forever, half of his arm buried into and around his soul. But it also hurts - it burns and singes from the inside and the light is dissipating and now Castiel can see the tears gathered in Dean’s eyes, dripping into his hair and over his ears.
He removes his hand slowly, still careful like he’s dealing with a fragile doll and the air in the room feels distilled and the only sound is their gasps, Dean’s choked and desperate.
He sobs and Castiel has never heard such a sound, ragged and dry and worn. He collapses in front of Dean, hands on his knees. He reaches up and their mouths meet, Dean’s fingers tangling loosely in Cas’ hair.
Dean’s eyes are bright and wild. “That wasn’t so bad,” he says, though there are tear streaks down his face. Castiel wipes them away with his thumbs. “How do you feel?”
Castiel takes a moment to regain his composure, take in deep breaths. “I…I feel good. Stronger.” He clenches his fingers and tests himself, touches the place where Rachel had stabbed into him. The opens his shirt, and the wound is completely closed now, only a thin pink scar marking what was truly his own fault. He stares at Dean for a moment and then lets himself smile. “Thank you.”
Dean still looks tired, exhausted even, but he smiles back. “It felt kind of amazing,” he says quietly, eyes half-lidded. “Better than having you fuck me, even.”
Castiel leans forward and catches Dean’s mouth, licks inside slow and smooth. “Thank you,” he says again. “But I have to go…I have to return to Heaven.”
Dean nods, looking a little irked. He still says, “Okay,” and Castiel moves his wings and he’s gone again.
-
When Castiel returns the week after, he feels hungry and buzzed, something that can’t be satiated with food or drugs or anything. He grabs Dean and shoves him against the wall and kisses him until Dean is tugging everywhere he can reach and laughing.
“What’s up, Cas?” he breathes, and their mouths are barely just hovering apart from each other. Castiel surges forward to catch him again until Dean is moaning and arching, fingers scrambling as they pull and push against fabric and hair. His fingers clutch into Dean, nearly digging in his skin. He doesn’t say anything, just presses him tighter against the wall, elbow into Dean’s ribs, and goes for his belt.
He can feel and hear Dean’s breath hitch as he undoes the belt but not his pants. Dean’s suddenly limper in his arms and he folds the belt and lifts it. Dean’s mouth opens, compliant, and he bites down on the leather again, completely willing.
This time is even more intense, and Castiel has to use all of his restraint to keep from pushing further into Dean, from destroying him with his own senselessness. His entire body is burning up and Dean’s soul is so completely and utterly his. It feels ragged and sharp but also pure and bright and the light that surrounds them lasts longer this time, but fades out quicker, Castiel with his fingers still brushing Dean’s soul.
Dean chokes with Cas’ hand pulling out of him, as if his soul is oversensitive (it’s the same noise he makes when Castiel fingers him after he’s come, grips his spent cock and pulls and pushes and ruts until Dean comes again), and Castiel has the sudden, urgent temptation to push his hand back in.
He resists, and Dean still has tears but there are less of them. The belt has teeth marks on it that weren’t there before, and Dean’s breathing is heavy and uncontrolled, completely irregular. Castiel tries to kiss it away, whispers soft “Thank you”s to Dean and Dean tells him that it’s not a problem, that’s he happy to help in any way he can. He says how amazing it feels to have Cas in him like that and Castiel should have known this situation would be sexualized. He doesn’t particularly mind but he’s not sure if Dean is actually reacting the way he should be.
Castiel keeps coming back. It’s not even so much that he’s drained anymore - the first couple of touches, just the brush of fingers against Dean’s soul were good enough. They would have kept him strong for the entire war, but there’s something about it, about being so close to Dean, physically and mentally. It’s an impossible experience and it hurts so fucking much but it also feels good in ways Castiel had never thought were possible. Dean was right - it is better than sex - it’s just much more dangerous. But Castiel is finding it hard to think about how dangerous it is, because he wants that finally climax, that feeling of absolute freedom when Dean’s soul nearly explodes in his grip, making contact with Cas’ grace.
By the fifth time, Dean’s eyes are circled but he says yes, mumbles, “Want you inside of me,” and Cas doesn’t even think, just hands him the belt and then curls his fingers and pushes his left fist inside, reaching for Dean’s more tender soul. He uses his right hand to curl against the print on Dean’s shoulder and Dean is literally shouting, his words useless and relentless and incomprehensible, almost cries of pain but also plenty of “Cas, Cas, fuck”s that lessen Castiel’s guilt. He can feel the traces of his grace in Dean’s arm, and there are traces of it inside of Dean too, surrounding his soul. Some of it is new and some is older, more faded.
He ruts against Dean and strokes his soul, taking in the power and reveling in it, how good it makes him feel, how absolutely alive.
It’s by the seventh time that it strikes Castiel.
“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean’s voice is hoarse and Castiel feels a wave of human feeling collapse on him. He turns his eyes away from Dean and stares at his own hands. He feels - he feels horrified.
“I have used you.” His voice shakes with the words and he can’t look up.
“Cas, we don’t have all day…” Dean sounds confused. Not angry, like he should be.
“You’re dying.”
Dean blinks and Castiel looks up to meet his eyes. “The more I do this, the closer you get to death.”
Dean looks a little shocked and he frowns. He opens his mouth as if to speak but then shuts it.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking…I was only thinking of myself, of my own selfish needs and I let your wellbeing take second place. I’m so sorry, Dean. Hurting you was never my intention.”
Dean’s expression is no longer bemusement, instead a certain warmth and sadness. He motions and Castiel collapses on the couch next to him. Always when Bobby and Sam are out. Always.
“I never stopped you,” Dean says quietly, pushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I never told you how it felt.”
“Did you lie…?” Castiel asks quietly and Dean shakes his head before the whole sentence is even out of his mouth.
“It felt…amazing, it really did. So intense.” Dean’s eyes close and his eyebrows furrow as he takes a breath; lets it out. “Un…un-fucking-believable, just - exhausting, too. Really draining. But I just wanted you to be strong.”
Castiel curls his fingers into Dean’s jacket. “You’re really something, aren’t you?” he says, fixing his eyes on Dean. “The fact that you lasted that long surprises me, really. The force, the stress - for humans, it’s like being hit by a truck. And yet here you sit.”
Dean moves forward and his mouth hovers near Castiel’s, teasing him with warm breaths. “It’s because I’m yours,” he says, and his lips curl up into a slight smile. “You know that, right?”
Castiel eyes him warily. “While I don’t like the phrasing, I suppose I do.”
Dean snorts. “Don’t like the phrasing?” he says, his words meeting Castiel’s open lips. “Why? Remind you of slavery or somethin’?”
Castiel doesn’t answer, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him into that kiss he’s been avoiding. Dean grunts and then moans, an arm slinging around Castiel’s shoulder, knotting his fingers into Cas’ hair tightly.
They reposition, Dean slinging his legs over Castiel, grinding down more than suggestively into his lap. He pulls Cas’ hair, and Cas’ jaw hits his with a dull noise as their mouths draw apart. “I can make it up to you,” Dean says, as if that makes any sense and Castiel lets his hands roam over Dean’s body, over the thin cloth of his shirt, trying to figure out the words.
“Make what up to me? You’ve given me everything,” Castiel says in a hushed voice, rubbing his fingers over Dean’s sides. Dean’s grin is wide.
Dean sits up, onto his knees, and begins to undo his belt.
“What? Don’t look at me like that.” Dean sounds serious and Castiel lower his eyes from Dean’s to his mouth, then down his chest to where his hands work the belt (he tosses it awkwardly to the floor before yanking open his button and zipper).
Castiel stops him as he reaches into his jeans. “Let me.”
“You sure?” Dean breathes, but his voice is shaky, lacking confidence. It takes the ‘oomph’ out of his sudden pushy sexuality.
Castiel looks at him. “When am I not?” he says darkly and Dean just stares back at him dumbly.
Castiel takes a hold of Dean’s hips and lifts him, mouthing at his jaw, his throat, the bones of his collar. He pulls off Dean’s jeans and uses one hand to unbutton his own pants, pushing them down to his thighs.
Dean is breathing heavily, staring at Castiel’s lap. They haven’t done this in a while, with Castiel being so distracted by souls and wars, but the sudden pulse in his cock tells him he’s not exactly unprepared. He meet Dean’s eyes and Dean makes a soft noise, throaty and needy, and tries to roll his hips. Castiel holds him in place, digging the palms of his hands into Dean’s sharp hips.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Dean gasps, cock twitching and curving. Castiel licks his lips, wanting to savor the moment, the heat of Dean’s body as it aches for his. It calms him, makes the guilt seep away.
“You’d let me do anything,” Castiel murmurs, and he feels a little sad as he says it, moving his hands to touch Dean’s face. Dean leans away, irritated, tipping his head back and refusing to look at Castiel. Castiel nips at his jaw, both playful and serious, and Dean drops his head back, catching his gaze. “You’d let me kill you.”
“You wouldn’t,” Dean croaks, but the sound of his voice tells the entire story.
“You’d let me do anything,” Castiel breathes, quieter this time with the entire realization. “Oh, Dean.”
Dean hisses, eyes darkening. “Right now I need you to fuck me.”
Castiel knows he’s just using the words to his advantage, trying to get Cas to give in, but he doesn’t. He has more self control than Dean, more self control than most humans. He can wait.
“You can’t do that to yourself,” he continues and Dean groans and rocks his hips down, swaying his body against Cas’, searching for friction. “You can’t let me hold your life in my hands. I might lose you that way.”
“Cas,” Dean breathes, voice still rough and low. “I need you.”
“Will you face the point?” Castiel’s voice is sharp and he holds Dean perfectly still.
“Fuck,” Dean whispers through cracked lips. “You’re right, you know. I’d let you do anything. I would let you kill me, if you had the right reasons. I believe in you. Trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, and neither does Castiel. He just begins to move, pressing two fingers inside of Dean’s mouth. Dean sighs with relief and takes them in eagerly, swirling his tongue around them and watching Cas as he does so. They make a wet pop when Castiel slides them out, and he continues to watch Dean’s face for reactions as he pushes a single finger inside, first circling the ring of muscle. Dean’s eyes change, and his breath hitches. He bites his lip when Castiel begins to move but then rocks back against Cas’ finger until he pushes in two.
“Cas,” he breathes, and Dean’s eyes flutter shut, mouth opening slightly. He’s finding a rhythm, fucking himself on Cas’ two fingers. Castiel keeps one hand held steady on Dean’s hips as Dean grinds down on his fingers, moaning shamelessly when Castiel crooks and twists his fingers together, finding the nerves inside of Dean that make him ache. “Shit.”
Dean’s always liked foreplay, and today is no different despite his earlier desperation. He grits his teeth and digs half moons into Cas’ shoulders as he fucks himself deeper into Castiel’s fingers, lets it go on for almost five minutes before he says, “Need you, all of you,” in that weak way that says he’s getting close just from the stimulation.
Castiel knows it’s serious now and he slides his fingers out, still watching the way Dean’s lips quiver and he swallows down breaths as he does so. He pulls Dean forward gently with an arm wound around his waist, then they kiss, and it’s wet and sloppy, Dean sliding their tongues together and trying to find his way into Cas’ throat, so much so that Castiel has to push him back with a hand on his chest so he can hitch Dean closer, position him above his cock.
“Come on,” Dean grits out, hands still tight on Cas’ shoulders again as Castiel lowers him, one hand on Dean and the other wrapped loosely around his own dick. The head nudges into Dean, slow and slick, and Dean tenses at the feeling, body going rigid from his shoulders down the curve of his back.
“Relax,” Castiel says, voice calm. He knows Dean can do it - Dean’s done it before, plenty of times.
Dean takes a few shuddering breaths, Castiel barely inside, and then continues to sink down, taking the curve of Cas’ cock further into his ass. He lets it make him shake, thighs quivering, using Castiel for support.
“Fuck.” It’s Castiel’s turn to swear, and he rubs circles into Dean’s hip bone, trying to be comforting. “You’re beautiful.”
Dean makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat and lifts off Cas’ cock slowly. “That was a corny thing to say.” But his face is flushed, either from embarrassment or from being so close, and Castiel can’t help but smile slightly.
“It’s true,” Castiel answers curtly, kissing Dean’s neck. “So, so good.”
Dean tuts under his breath and grinds down slowly, this time teasing. Castiel can feel the drag of his cock inside of Dean, against his walls, and it feels so hot and good that he thinks if he tried to talk again he wouldn’t be able to manage coherent sentences, or even words.
Dean becomes more enthusiastic with the passing moments, lifting himself up off of Cas’ dick and then riding down again, gasping and twitching when Castiel rams his hips up at the same time as he pushes down. Castiel knows he’s getting Dean right where he needs it because Dean is still hard against his own stomach, twitching slightly with their movements.
Hard and beautiful.
They find a beat, Dean rolling his hips in sequence with Castiel’s so each time he goes down Castiel is going up. Dean’s body is almost too much, and Castiel nearly curses his own self control. He wants to come but he waits, licking his lips and enjoying the scene. Dean is sweating slightly, sheen across his forehead. His eyes are blurred, pupils blown almost completely, and his lips are swollen from earlier kisses and he continues to fuck himself on Cas’ cock with no abandon, swearing and managing nonsense every couple of minutes.
“Touch me,” he finally says, and then again, “Cas, touch me.” It’s more desperate than Cas has ever heard him and he can’t say no though he’s tempted, jerking Dean’s cock in a slightly off rhythm with his own thrusts. He can barely pay attention with the engulfing heat around his dick but he does what he can, flicking his wrist when he slams into Dean’s prostate and thumbing the head as precome drips out, smearing it across the shaft.
Dean’s moans are heavy and completely shameless, and he forces their mouths together suddenly, the sloppiest and wildest kiss Castiel has ever experienced. He can feel the saliva drip onto his chin but he doesn’t care because the heat is intense and pulsing and suddenly Dean stops, gasping. Castiel knows what that means and he stops his hand at the same moment until Dean lets out a low whine and pushes back onto Castiel’s cock, beginning the rhythm again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chants, his lips trailing the words across Castiel’s face. “You know…gonna…” It’s not cohesive but Castiel recognizes the gibberish for what it is, Dean’s neediness, the fact that he’s close. Castiel can feel the heat rising in his belly, too, the dramatized feel of Dean’s muscles clamped tight around his cock. Dean pulls off, almost entirely, and then he slams back down into Castiel so hard that skin hits skin and the collision is almost painful.
Castiel jerks and arches his back as he grips Dean’s hip in one hand, still jacking him off as quickly and expertly as he can, his mind going all different direction. Then Dean is swearing, words a mindless mess, mingled with, “Cas, Cas, can’t - can’t have,” and then there’s a strangled half-sob as he comes, leaving a streaking mess over his own stomach, over Castiel’s chest. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, just moves his hips with more sureness, his hands moving to pull Castiel closer.
Castiel comes inside and he jerks and stops breathing, reveling in the feeling. Dean clenches around him purposefully and he can feel Dean’s eyes on him, watching as he comes, hips still twitching uselessly with every aftershock.
And then it’s over, and it’s all just deep breaths and sweat slick bodies.
“Fuck,” Dean whispers, sounding weak. “You are…” He trails off as if trying to come up with the word, Cas’ cock still buried in his ass. Cas is still flinching slightly, but then everything suddenly comes back into focus and he falls back against the couch.
“Shit,” Dean laughs, sitting up slowly as Cas’ cock slides out of him. He winces and swears again. “Clean us up?” he asks hopefully and Castiel manages a hazy smile. He leans his head back and Dean lets out a low whistle. “Benefits of sleeping with an angel…”
“What a benefit,” Castiel says quietly as Dean stands, pulling his jeans up and buttoning them in front of Cas. “I’m sure it makes up for all the other bullshit you have to deal with on a regular basis.”
When Castiel opens his eyes, Dean is smiling at him. “You know, you keep getting more human with every day.”
Castiel turns his head away, not wanting to look into those eyes. He’s afraid of the truth, of what Dean’s telling him.
“I like it.” Dean sounds like he’s telling the truth. He reaches out and touches Cas’ face with his knuckles. “It’s more befitting.”
Castiel doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t think he needs to.
Pairing/Character(s): Dean/Castiel
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Spoilers for 6.18 - Fronteirland.
It’s different then when he went in for Bobby’s soul. Dean’s soul is right there, and Castiel is overwhelmed by the intensity of it as he pushes his curled fingers further into Dean’s stomach, through the pressure. Pleasure jolts and sparks endlessly through his body along with the pain, rippling through his muscles like lighting. Dean’s head is thrown back and he’s biting down hard on the belt, eyes squeezed shut, light filling the room as Castiel reaches deeper, taking in the incredible energy that surrounds him. His mouth opens and he thinks he’s going to cry out but instead it’s just light, pouring out and silhouetting Dean as his fingers wrap tightly around his soul.
Warning: Addictive tendencies
Beta: N/A
Word Count: 4,133
A/N: for deancaskink . Please ignore all stupid typos or whatever, I just needed to get it posted.
“You’re not okay.”
Castiel looks at Dean - meets his eyes - and says, “I’m fine.”
He’s getting used to lying.
Dean narrows his eyes and glares. “You’re a liar.”
Castiel licks his lips. Dean has a knack for only noticing when he’s lying at certain points. Or maybe he just hides it. Maybe he knows all of lies Cas has been telling, just doesn’t act upon them.
Castiel lowers his gaze. Clasps his hands in his lap. “It’s war, Dean. What do you expect me to be?”
“I expect you to care for yourself.” Dean sounds strangely hostile, protective and angry. Castiel takes a breath and looks back up. “And I want you to let me help you. There’s got to be something I can do.”
“There is nothing you can do.”
Castiel hates doing it, leaving Dean hanging like this, but he can’t stay. He can’t stay because if he stays, he might just make things worse.
-
Dean, however, is persistent. Castiel can hear him praying almost constantly, and he doesn’t think Dean is even always aware of his actions. Sometimes they’re just stray thoughts that Castiel hears (‘Cas, where are you? Please be okay,’) and it hurts him to hear Dean’s voice, faint in the back of his head.
And then Dean’s voice is clear, intensely deliberate, and Castiel is pulled out of battle by the sheer force of it. He stumbles when he lands in Bobby’s living room and stares, mouth agape, at Dean.
“How did you do that?” he whispers and Dean frowns and shrugs.
“I just really needed you to be here. Maybe it’s that profound bond at work.”
Castiel lets out a breath and puts his hand to his forehead, pressing. He’s a nervous wreck. “You shouldn’t have called, we were fighting an important battle -”
Dean cuts him off before he can continue. “I want to help you heal.”
Castiel stares at Dean for a long moment and licks his lips. “You can’t,” he lies through his teeth, though he knows that Dean knows he’s lying. Dean rolls his eyes quickly, crossing his arms over his chest. The motion is tight and annoyed, as if he’s angry at Castiel for doing what needs to be done. Dean might just be angry.
“Who are you foolin’, Cas? No one?” He laughs humorlessly. “I know that…souls make you stronger. They make angels stronger. I figured it out - why you were so powerful when we first met, why bullets and knives didn’t even make you flinch. They do now - I’ve noticed that. You can’t be killed by them, but you bleed and it hurts, doesn’t it? It’s because of when you pulled me out of Hell, you touched my soul.”
Dean pulls off his jacket and pushes the sleeve up of his t-shirt, revealing the red, hand shaped mark on his skin. “I don’t know the details, and I doubt you really do either, but this is why we’re connected or whatever, right? Because you held my soul and basically dragged it through hellfire. Right?”
Dean stares at Castiel until he looks at him. “Right?” he echoes.
“You’re…correct,” Castiel answers slowly, though he’s slightly annoyed. “But you saw what happened to Bobby. You saw what it did to both of us. It…reaching for someone’s soul is a painful, excruciating process. I didn’t want to put Bobby through that, and I don’t want to do it to you. It’s not worth it if you die.”
“We’re connected, Cas,” Dean breathes. “Come on. Please. I want you to.”
“Dean.”
“Cas.”
Castiel closes his eyes. “Your soul would be…it would be preferable,” he admits, though he doesn’t want to. “You are a righteous man, the righteous man, even though there is currently no apocalypse. Your soul is more powerful than any I’ve ever seen before. Pulling you out was difficult because you are such a powerful being.”
Dean licks his lips, the movement barely even noticeable.
“You’ll…you want to do this?”
“Yes. Cas.”
Castiel still isn’t sure but then Dean kisses him, makes the certainty clear in the way he moves his mouth and he knows he has no other choice. Dean pulls off Cas’ belt all on his own without even looking up from Cas’ waist, and bites down on the soft leather, sitting back and staring up at Castiel as Castiel rolls up his sleeve. He touches Dean first, gently, kissing his temple. “I’ll go slowly.”
It’s different then when he went in for Bobby’s soul. Dean’s soul is right there, and Castiel is overwhelmed by the intensity of it as he pushes his curled fingers further into Dean’s stomach, through the pressure. Pleasure jolts and sparks endlessly through his body along with the pain, rippling through his muscles like lighting. Dean’s head is thrown back and he’s biting down hard on the belt, eyes squeezed shut, light filling the room as Castiel reaches deeper, taking in the incredible energy that surrounds him. His mouth opens and he thinks he’s going to cry out but instead it’s just light, pouring out and silhouetting Dean as his fingers wrap tightly around his soul.
It’s the most beautiful thing Castiel has ever witnessed and he doesn’t want to pull out, just wants to be touching Dean forever, half of his arm buried into and around his soul. But it also hurts - it burns and singes from the inside and the light is dissipating and now Castiel can see the tears gathered in Dean’s eyes, dripping into his hair and over his ears.
He removes his hand slowly, still careful like he’s dealing with a fragile doll and the air in the room feels distilled and the only sound is their gasps, Dean’s choked and desperate.
He sobs and Castiel has never heard such a sound, ragged and dry and worn. He collapses in front of Dean, hands on his knees. He reaches up and their mouths meet, Dean’s fingers tangling loosely in Cas’ hair.
Dean’s eyes are bright and wild. “That wasn’t so bad,” he says, though there are tear streaks down his face. Castiel wipes them away with his thumbs. “How do you feel?”
Castiel takes a moment to regain his composure, take in deep breaths. “I…I feel good. Stronger.” He clenches his fingers and tests himself, touches the place where Rachel had stabbed into him. The opens his shirt, and the wound is completely closed now, only a thin pink scar marking what was truly his own fault. He stares at Dean for a moment and then lets himself smile. “Thank you.”
Dean still looks tired, exhausted even, but he smiles back. “It felt kind of amazing,” he says quietly, eyes half-lidded. “Better than having you fuck me, even.”
Castiel leans forward and catches Dean’s mouth, licks inside slow and smooth. “Thank you,” he says again. “But I have to go…I have to return to Heaven.”
Dean nods, looking a little irked. He still says, “Okay,” and Castiel moves his wings and he’s gone again.
-
When Castiel returns the week after, he feels hungry and buzzed, something that can’t be satiated with food or drugs or anything. He grabs Dean and shoves him against the wall and kisses him until Dean is tugging everywhere he can reach and laughing.
“What’s up, Cas?” he breathes, and their mouths are barely just hovering apart from each other. Castiel surges forward to catch him again until Dean is moaning and arching, fingers scrambling as they pull and push against fabric and hair. His fingers clutch into Dean, nearly digging in his skin. He doesn’t say anything, just presses him tighter against the wall, elbow into Dean’s ribs, and goes for his belt.
He can feel and hear Dean’s breath hitch as he undoes the belt but not his pants. Dean’s suddenly limper in his arms and he folds the belt and lifts it. Dean’s mouth opens, compliant, and he bites down on the leather again, completely willing.
This time is even more intense, and Castiel has to use all of his restraint to keep from pushing further into Dean, from destroying him with his own senselessness. His entire body is burning up and Dean’s soul is so completely and utterly his. It feels ragged and sharp but also pure and bright and the light that surrounds them lasts longer this time, but fades out quicker, Castiel with his fingers still brushing Dean’s soul.
Dean chokes with Cas’ hand pulling out of him, as if his soul is oversensitive (it’s the same noise he makes when Castiel fingers him after he’s come, grips his spent cock and pulls and pushes and ruts until Dean comes again), and Castiel has the sudden, urgent temptation to push his hand back in.
He resists, and Dean still has tears but there are less of them. The belt has teeth marks on it that weren’t there before, and Dean’s breathing is heavy and uncontrolled, completely irregular. Castiel tries to kiss it away, whispers soft “Thank you”s to Dean and Dean tells him that it’s not a problem, that’s he happy to help in any way he can. He says how amazing it feels to have Cas in him like that and Castiel should have known this situation would be sexualized. He doesn’t particularly mind but he’s not sure if Dean is actually reacting the way he should be.
Castiel keeps coming back. It’s not even so much that he’s drained anymore - the first couple of touches, just the brush of fingers against Dean’s soul were good enough. They would have kept him strong for the entire war, but there’s something about it, about being so close to Dean, physically and mentally. It’s an impossible experience and it hurts so fucking much but it also feels good in ways Castiel had never thought were possible. Dean was right - it is better than sex - it’s just much more dangerous. But Castiel is finding it hard to think about how dangerous it is, because he wants that finally climax, that feeling of absolute freedom when Dean’s soul nearly explodes in his grip, making contact with Cas’ grace.
By the fifth time, Dean’s eyes are circled but he says yes, mumbles, “Want you inside of me,” and Cas doesn’t even think, just hands him the belt and then curls his fingers and pushes his left fist inside, reaching for Dean’s more tender soul. He uses his right hand to curl against the print on Dean’s shoulder and Dean is literally shouting, his words useless and relentless and incomprehensible, almost cries of pain but also plenty of “Cas, Cas, fuck”s that lessen Castiel’s guilt. He can feel the traces of his grace in Dean’s arm, and there are traces of it inside of Dean too, surrounding his soul. Some of it is new and some is older, more faded.
He ruts against Dean and strokes his soul, taking in the power and reveling in it, how good it makes him feel, how absolutely alive.
It’s by the seventh time that it strikes Castiel.
“Cas, what’s wrong?” Dean’s voice is hoarse and Castiel feels a wave of human feeling collapse on him. He turns his eyes away from Dean and stares at his own hands. He feels - he feels horrified.
“I have used you.” His voice shakes with the words and he can’t look up.
“Cas, we don’t have all day…” Dean sounds confused. Not angry, like he should be.
“You’re dying.”
Dean blinks and Castiel looks up to meet his eyes. “The more I do this, the closer you get to death.”
Dean looks a little shocked and he frowns. He opens his mouth as if to speak but then shuts it.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t…I didn’t realize, I wasn’t thinking…I was only thinking of myself, of my own selfish needs and I let your wellbeing take second place. I’m so sorry, Dean. Hurting you was never my intention.”
Dean’s expression is no longer bemusement, instead a certain warmth and sadness. He motions and Castiel collapses on the couch next to him. Always when Bobby and Sam are out. Always.
“I never stopped you,” Dean says quietly, pushing his fingers through Castiel’s hair. “I never told you how it felt.”
“Did you lie…?” Castiel asks quietly and Dean shakes his head before the whole sentence is even out of his mouth.
“It felt…amazing, it really did. So intense.” Dean’s eyes close and his eyebrows furrow as he takes a breath; lets it out. “Un…un-fucking-believable, just - exhausting, too. Really draining. But I just wanted you to be strong.”
Castiel curls his fingers into Dean’s jacket. “You’re really something, aren’t you?” he says, fixing his eyes on Dean. “The fact that you lasted that long surprises me, really. The force, the stress - for humans, it’s like being hit by a truck. And yet here you sit.”
Dean moves forward and his mouth hovers near Castiel’s, teasing him with warm breaths. “It’s because I’m yours,” he says, and his lips curl up into a slight smile. “You know that, right?”
Castiel eyes him warily. “While I don’t like the phrasing, I suppose I do.”
Dean snorts. “Don’t like the phrasing?” he says, his words meeting Castiel’s open lips. “Why? Remind you of slavery or somethin’?”
Castiel doesn’t answer, grabbing him by his collar and pulling him into that kiss he’s been avoiding. Dean grunts and then moans, an arm slinging around Castiel’s shoulder, knotting his fingers into Cas’ hair tightly.
They reposition, Dean slinging his legs over Castiel, grinding down more than suggestively into his lap. He pulls Cas’ hair, and Cas’ jaw hits his with a dull noise as their mouths draw apart. “I can make it up to you,” Dean says, as if that makes any sense and Castiel lets his hands roam over Dean’s body, over the thin cloth of his shirt, trying to figure out the words.
“Make what up to me? You’ve given me everything,” Castiel says in a hushed voice, rubbing his fingers over Dean’s sides. Dean’s grin is wide.
Dean sits up, onto his knees, and begins to undo his belt.
“What? Don’t look at me like that.” Dean sounds serious and Castiel lower his eyes from Dean’s to his mouth, then down his chest to where his hands work the belt (he tosses it awkwardly to the floor before yanking open his button and zipper).
Castiel stops him as he reaches into his jeans. “Let me.”
“You sure?” Dean breathes, but his voice is shaky, lacking confidence. It takes the ‘oomph’ out of his sudden pushy sexuality.
Castiel looks at him. “When am I not?” he says darkly and Dean just stares back at him dumbly.
Castiel takes a hold of Dean’s hips and lifts him, mouthing at his jaw, his throat, the bones of his collar. He pulls off Dean’s jeans and uses one hand to unbutton his own pants, pushing them down to his thighs.
Dean is breathing heavily, staring at Castiel’s lap. They haven’t done this in a while, with Castiel being so distracted by souls and wars, but the sudden pulse in his cock tells him he’s not exactly unprepared. He meet Dean’s eyes and Dean makes a soft noise, throaty and needy, and tries to roll his hips. Castiel holds him in place, digging the palms of his hands into Dean’s sharp hips.
“Come on, come on, come on,” Dean gasps, cock twitching and curving. Castiel licks his lips, wanting to savor the moment, the heat of Dean’s body as it aches for his. It calms him, makes the guilt seep away.
“You’d let me do anything,” Castiel murmurs, and he feels a little sad as he says it, moving his hands to touch Dean’s face. Dean leans away, irritated, tipping his head back and refusing to look at Castiel. Castiel nips at his jaw, both playful and serious, and Dean drops his head back, catching his gaze. “You’d let me kill you.”
“You wouldn’t,” Dean croaks, but the sound of his voice tells the entire story.
“You’d let me do anything,” Castiel breathes, quieter this time with the entire realization. “Oh, Dean.”
Dean hisses, eyes darkening. “Right now I need you to fuck me.”
Castiel knows he’s just using the words to his advantage, trying to get Cas to give in, but he doesn’t. He has more self control than Dean, more self control than most humans. He can wait.
“You can’t do that to yourself,” he continues and Dean groans and rocks his hips down, swaying his body against Cas’, searching for friction. “You can’t let me hold your life in my hands. I might lose you that way.”
“Cas,” Dean breathes, voice still rough and low. “I need you.”
“Will you face the point?” Castiel’s voice is sharp and he holds Dean perfectly still.
“Fuck,” Dean whispers through cracked lips. “You’re right, you know. I’d let you do anything. I would let you kill me, if you had the right reasons. I believe in you. Trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Dean doesn’t say anything, and neither does Castiel. He just begins to move, pressing two fingers inside of Dean’s mouth. Dean sighs with relief and takes them in eagerly, swirling his tongue around them and watching Cas as he does so. They make a wet pop when Castiel slides them out, and he continues to watch Dean’s face for reactions as he pushes a single finger inside, first circling the ring of muscle. Dean’s eyes change, and his breath hitches. He bites his lip when Castiel begins to move but then rocks back against Cas’ finger until he pushes in two.
“Cas,” he breathes, and Dean’s eyes flutter shut, mouth opening slightly. He’s finding a rhythm, fucking himself on Cas’ two fingers. Castiel keeps one hand held steady on Dean’s hips as Dean grinds down on his fingers, moaning shamelessly when Castiel crooks and twists his fingers together, finding the nerves inside of Dean that make him ache. “Shit.”
Dean’s always liked foreplay, and today is no different despite his earlier desperation. He grits his teeth and digs half moons into Cas’ shoulders as he fucks himself deeper into Castiel’s fingers, lets it go on for almost five minutes before he says, “Need you, all of you,” in that weak way that says he’s getting close just from the stimulation.
Castiel knows it’s serious now and he slides his fingers out, still watching the way Dean’s lips quiver and he swallows down breaths as he does so. He pulls Dean forward gently with an arm wound around his waist, then they kiss, and it’s wet and sloppy, Dean sliding their tongues together and trying to find his way into Cas’ throat, so much so that Castiel has to push him back with a hand on his chest so he can hitch Dean closer, position him above his cock.
“Come on,” Dean grits out, hands still tight on Cas’ shoulders again as Castiel lowers him, one hand on Dean and the other wrapped loosely around his own dick. The head nudges into Dean, slow and slick, and Dean tenses at the feeling, body going rigid from his shoulders down the curve of his back.
“Relax,” Castiel says, voice calm. He knows Dean can do it - Dean’s done it before, plenty of times.
Dean takes a few shuddering breaths, Castiel barely inside, and then continues to sink down, taking the curve of Cas’ cock further into his ass. He lets it make him shake, thighs quivering, using Castiel for support.
“Fuck.” It’s Castiel’s turn to swear, and he rubs circles into Dean’s hip bone, trying to be comforting. “You’re beautiful.”
Dean makes an indignant noise in the back of his throat and lifts off Cas’ cock slowly. “That was a corny thing to say.” But his face is flushed, either from embarrassment or from being so close, and Castiel can’t help but smile slightly.
“It’s true,” Castiel answers curtly, kissing Dean’s neck. “So, so good.”
Dean tuts under his breath and grinds down slowly, this time teasing. Castiel can feel the drag of his cock inside of Dean, against his walls, and it feels so hot and good that he thinks if he tried to talk again he wouldn’t be able to manage coherent sentences, or even words.
Dean becomes more enthusiastic with the passing moments, lifting himself up off of Cas’ dick and then riding down again, gasping and twitching when Castiel rams his hips up at the same time as he pushes down. Castiel knows he’s getting Dean right where he needs it because Dean is still hard against his own stomach, twitching slightly with their movements.
Hard and beautiful.
They find a beat, Dean rolling his hips in sequence with Castiel’s so each time he goes down Castiel is going up. Dean’s body is almost too much, and Castiel nearly curses his own self control. He wants to come but he waits, licking his lips and enjoying the scene. Dean is sweating slightly, sheen across his forehead. His eyes are blurred, pupils blown almost completely, and his lips are swollen from earlier kisses and he continues to fuck himself on Cas’ cock with no abandon, swearing and managing nonsense every couple of minutes.
“Touch me,” he finally says, and then again, “Cas, touch me.” It’s more desperate than Cas has ever heard him and he can’t say no though he’s tempted, jerking Dean’s cock in a slightly off rhythm with his own thrusts. He can barely pay attention with the engulfing heat around his dick but he does what he can, flicking his wrist when he slams into Dean’s prostate and thumbing the head as precome drips out, smearing it across the shaft.
Dean’s moans are heavy and completely shameless, and he forces their mouths together suddenly, the sloppiest and wildest kiss Castiel has ever experienced. He can feel the saliva drip onto his chin but he doesn’t care because the heat is intense and pulsing and suddenly Dean stops, gasping. Castiel knows what that means and he stops his hand at the same moment until Dean lets out a low whine and pushes back onto Castiel’s cock, beginning the rhythm again.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Dean chants, his lips trailing the words across Castiel’s face. “You know…gonna…” It’s not cohesive but Castiel recognizes the gibberish for what it is, Dean’s neediness, the fact that he’s close. Castiel can feel the heat rising in his belly, too, the dramatized feel of Dean’s muscles clamped tight around his cock. Dean pulls off, almost entirely, and then he slams back down into Castiel so hard that skin hits skin and the collision is almost painful.
Castiel jerks and arches his back as he grips Dean’s hip in one hand, still jacking him off as quickly and expertly as he can, his mind going all different direction. Then Dean is swearing, words a mindless mess, mingled with, “Cas, Cas, can’t - can’t have,” and then there’s a strangled half-sob as he comes, leaving a streaking mess over his own stomach, over Castiel’s chest. But he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, just moves his hips with more sureness, his hands moving to pull Castiel closer.
Castiel comes inside and he jerks and stops breathing, reveling in the feeling. Dean clenches around him purposefully and he can feel Dean’s eyes on him, watching as he comes, hips still twitching uselessly with every aftershock.
And then it’s over, and it’s all just deep breaths and sweat slick bodies.
“Fuck,” Dean whispers, sounding weak. “You are…” He trails off as if trying to come up with the word, Cas’ cock still buried in his ass. Cas is still flinching slightly, but then everything suddenly comes back into focus and he falls back against the couch.
“Shit,” Dean laughs, sitting up slowly as Cas’ cock slides out of him. He winces and swears again. “Clean us up?” he asks hopefully and Castiel manages a hazy smile. He leans his head back and Dean lets out a low whistle. “Benefits of sleeping with an angel…”
“What a benefit,” Castiel says quietly as Dean stands, pulling his jeans up and buttoning them in front of Cas. “I’m sure it makes up for all the other bullshit you have to deal with on a regular basis.”
When Castiel opens his eyes, Dean is smiling at him. “You know, you keep getting more human with every day.”
Castiel turns his head away, not wanting to look into those eyes. He’s afraid of the truth, of what Dean’s telling him.
“I like it.” Dean sounds like he’s telling the truth. He reaches out and touches Cas’ face with his knuckles. “It’s more befitting.”
Castiel doesn’t speak.
He doesn’t think he needs to.