Dean/Cas Big Bang: Until The Lost Become The Found, Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel, NC-17 - Part Six
Title: Until The Lost Become The Found
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: All possible variations of Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel.
A/N: An AU that picks up immediately after 'The End'. Also, the title is based on this song, because it's my quintessential future!Cas song.
Summary: Although Dean may have been unable to save his brother in that hellish future world, there's a certain fallen angel that Castiel might just be able to rescue in time.
Word count: 36,000
Warnings: Drug abuse, past drug abuse, alcohol abuse, violence, memories of Hell (flashbacks to torture), implied prostitution.
Also, amazing artwork by peach_gurl can be can be found over here.
- - -
When Dean begins to slowly wake up, it’s to the feeling of gentle fingers threading through his hair.
The sensation is like getting punched in the heart. Dean takes a second to assess his surroundings - sleeping with his head on an angel’s stomach, with Cas curled up asleep on the floor beside them - before he exhales shakily and reminds himself to breathe, because the fingers in his hair are incontrovertible proof that Castiel is still alive.
“Dean.”
Dean swallows around the tension in his throat, unable to speak over the sensation of Castiel’s fingers sliding through his hair, and tries not to freak out about the fact that - at some point in the night - he had curled up with his head on Castiel’s stomach.
“Are you - is this alright, to touch you like this?”
Raising his head slightly, careful to not dislodge the fingers tangled in his hair, Dean stares up at the tired lines of the angel’s face, gratefully taking in the healthy tint of his skin, the lucidity and clarity behind his eyes.
“You’re -” When Dean’s voice cracks, he swallows and tries again. “You’re okay?”
“Your voice gave me an anchor to this world.”
Castiel looks mostly whole and healthy again, the gouges vanished from his chest, his ridiculous trench coat outfit once again in one piece, and Dean desperately wants to crawl up onto his knees and press his mouth against the curve of the angel’s lips, to explore the insides of his mouth with his tongue until Castiel can’t help but kiss him back.
“You’re staring, Dean.”
“Sorry, I just - you were pretty out of it.”
The fingers in his hair slide to press against the curve of Dean’s cheek, and the needy noise that falls from Dean’s lips is one that he will deny for the rest of his life. There’s a flush beginning to spread across Castiel’s cheek, a tension to the pressure of his fingertips against Dean’s skin, and Dean suddenly and desperately wants to take a chance and stop wasting what may be the last few months of their lives.
“Dean?”
“When did -” Dean has to stop and try again, his body heating up at the slow rise and fall of Castiel’s stomach next to Dean’s cheek. “What made you change your mind?”
The words about us go unspoken. Based on the way Castiel can’t seem to stop touching him, it’s obvious that something has finally torn down the angel’s reservations over whatever might be happening between them.
“Almost being ripped from this body seems to have impressed upon me the precariousness of our lives.”
“Cas -”
“I have existed for millennia without truly feeling the passage of time, and yet now, somehow, every day seems like something fragile and precious.”
There’s something almost sad and wistful there, but there’s a lightness to Castiel’s eyes as he continues to slide his fingers along Dean’s cheek, and Dean feels something inside himself finally break apart as he climbs up onto to his aching knees and leans down to press his lips against the chapped ones in front of him, hoping desperately that he’s not going to be pushed away.
There are a few moments of complete stillness, until -
“Dean.”
Castiel sighs out his name like it’s a prayer, his body going slack against the pressure of Dean’s lips against his own, and Dean would be terrified of the reverence in his tone if not for the way Castiel is suddenly kissing him back, clumsy and inexperienced but so fucking earnest it makes Dean almost lose his mind with affection and need.
“Cas,” he manages to grit out, as Castiel’s warm fingers curl into the skin of arms, “You sure -”
“Yes, Dean - yes, I - I’ve made my decision - I -”
“Glad to see you got the party started without me.”
Dean and Castiel freeze as a third voice cuts into their conversation, and then Dean is pulling away from the temptation of Castiel’s lips to stare at the fallen angel, whose skin still seems to be painted an almost unnatural shade of white, even as the dim light of morning splashes him with lines of colour. His blue eyes are wider than normal, and there’s something guarded about the tight press of his lips, as he glances between Dean and his past self with an open expression of uncertainty.
“Well? Am I staying or going?”
Castiel’s fingers are still digging into Dean’s arms, and Dean brings his eyes back to the angel, knowing what he wants, knowing that choosing between the two of them could very well wreck everything they’ve managed to build between the three of them, but wanting to be sure that this version of Castiel is on board, that he’s not going to freak out over the thought of getting naked with his future self.
“You kissed him last night.”
“Uh.” Dean swallows hard, and makes himself continue to meet Castiel’s eyes. “You heard that, huh.”
Castiel stares at him for another long moment, and then a hint of a frown crosses his expression, before he drags his eyes to his future self. When he gently frees himself from Dean’s hold and climbs to his feet, looking whole and healthy and suddenly so damn righteous, leaving Dean to kneel on the floor and stare up at him, Dean is painfully reminded that this is an angel of the lord that he’s proposing a threesome to.
“Cas?” Dean barely gets the words out over his rapid heartbeat, wondering why he had ever thought this could be a good idea. “Look, I don’t expect you to -”
“If my future self is important to you, then that is enough for me.”
It takes about three seconds for the words to actually process, and then all the breath seems to leave Dean’s lungs in a relieved whoosh. He blinks stupidly at both versions of Castiel for a moment longer, until the fallen angel snakes out a hand to clench it into Dean’s, yanking Dean to his feet and simultaneously reaching out to curl his fingers into the material of Castiel’s trench coat.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The angel doesn’t hesitate with his answer, and as Cas and Castiel take a moment to simply stare at each other, one a tower of righteous trench coat glory and the other a mess of stubble and Dean’s old clothing, Dean feels heat begin to spread across his aching skin, and he starts losing blood from his head so rapidly it almost makes him dizzy.
“Uh, guys?”
There’s another agonizing moment of silence, and then the fallen angel turns to shoot him a smirk that makes his knees do funny things beneath him. Dean barely has time to panic about what he’s getting into before Cas is crossing the room and heading for the stairs, shooting a parting remark over his shoulder as he goes.
“C’mon, then. We’re not doing this on Bobby’s living room floor.”
With that, Cas is gone up the stairs, and Dean and Castiel stare each other for a somewhat disbelieving moment, until Dean reaches out to tug on Castiel’s coat sleeve, and they hesitantly follow after the fallen angel.
- - -
“So, Dean? When was the last time you got naked with another guy?”
Dean swallows hard, watching as the human version of Castiel carelessly strips Dean’s old zeppelin t-shirt free of his body, tossing it to the floor with that dangerous smirk still playing around his lips. Dean isn’t exactly sure how they all ended up in Bobby’s guestroom, but as his eyes slide along the length of the fallen angel’s body, watching the muscles in that slim form shift as Cas bends down to strip off his socks, he finds that he doesn’t really care.
“Dean.”
Dean only then realizes he hasn’t responded to the question, and when the fallen angel just smirks a little wider, Dean licks his suddenly dry lips and tries for words.
“Couple of years.”
“Bit out of practice, then.”
Dean bristles for a moment at the accusation, but before he can form a protest, Cas has slid a couple of steps forward to stand right in front of his angelic self, and the sight of the two of them all but breathing each other’s air is enough to cut off Dean’s complaints.
“And my past self is clueless. Guess I’m running this show.”
“Are you -”As Cas raises a hand to curl it around Castiel’s cheek, Dean has to stop and clear his throat before trying again. “Are you always this cocky?”
“You forget that I know exactly how to touch both of you.”
It’s something that Dean had indeed forgotten, and the wave of heat that sweeps across his body leaves him slightly dizzy. As he watches, Cas drags a gentle finger along the edge of Castiel’s upper lip, his eyes never once leaving Castiel’s wide-eyed stare, as though the fallen angel has momentarily chosen to ignore the fact that Dean is still in the room.
“You’re not yet kinky enough to want to fuck your future self, are you.”
Castiel swallows hard at the question, a slight stain spreading across his cheeks, and Cas smirks as he casually slides the tip of one long finger between Castiel’s lips, never once breaking their ridiculously intense eye contact.
“Better reaction than I’d hoped for. We’ll get ya there eventually. For now, let’s give Dean a bit of a show, shall we?”
Staring at his future self as though he’s only just seeing him for the first time, Castiel stays completely still as Cas leans in to press their lips together, his fingers sliding down from Castiel’s cheeks to curl into the sleeves of Castiel’s trench coat. Dean hears an odd noise slip from between his own lips, and all the air leaves the room as he watches Cas begin to take himself apart with a kiss that seems to know exactly how to melt the angel’s legs beneath him.
Dean only realizes his mouth is hanging open when Cas’ tongue slides out to play along the edges of Castiel’s lips, slipping inside with a confidence born of knowing how his partner likes to be kissed, and Dean hears himself make another ragged noise as Castiel suddenly presses forward a bit and digs his fingers into the skin of Cas’ arms, his nails probably leaving new scratches among the patchwork of track marks. If Cas minds the bite of pain, he certainly doesn’t seem to show it, as he simply tightens his hold on Castiel’s jacket and scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh of Castiel’s bottom lip.
Then, Cas steps back with a sharp exhale, his face flushed with more colour than Dean has ever seen on that pale skin, and Dean bites down on his own lip as Castiel stares wide-eyed at his future self, as though he’s suddenly found himself somewhere unexpected and doesn’t know what to do about it.
“You liked that, huh.”
Cas somehow doesn’t come off as nearly as confident as he probably would have liked, and when Castiel simply nods and continues to stare at him, Cas swallows hard and steps back out of Castiel’s grip.
“Good. That makes things easier. Now why don’t you two get naked so we can make use of this bed?”
Dean has a moment of realizing that he might be getting in over his head, and it doesn’t exactly help to calm his nerves when Cas returns to the bed and stretches out on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows with that ever-present smirk, as though he’s going to just lie there and watch both of them shed the meagre protection that comes from their clothing, and that he’s going to love every second of it.
“Well?”
Cursing the heat he can feel spreading across his cheeks, Dean tears his eyes from the fallen angel and crosses the short distance between himself and Castiel, reaching out to hesitantly curl his hands against the curves of Castiel’s hips under all that trench coat, something in him completely unsurprised when Castiel doesn’t break eye contact for even a second.
“Cas,” he starts, one last chance, knowing that there’s no going back from this, “Are you positive that -”
“Please do not ask me again if I’m sure.”
There’s an odd catch to the angel’s voice, and Dean mutters a curse at the need he can see in those blue, wondering what he’s ever done to deserve something this good. Not wanting to follow that train of thought too far, he tells himself to man the fuck up as he leans in to scrape his teeth against the softness of Castiel’s lower lip, loving the way Castiel makes a hurt sound and goes instantly boneless, his body moulding against Dean’s own like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
“Dean - Dean, I -”
“I know. I gotcha, I promise -”
“Does it always feel like this?”
The question is so honestly sincere that Dean has to bury his grin in the safety of Castiel’s neck, unable to meet those wide blue eyes as he slides his lips across the expanse of warm skin, a tremor of true happiness skirting across his body for the first time in longer than he cares to think.
“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
When Dean is sure that his grin has been wrested under control, he frees his lips from the curve of Castiel’s neck and pulls back to stare at flashing blue eyes and tinted skin, his entire body jolting with sudden arousal when a tongue slides out across Castiel’s chapped lips. Reaching out to slowly trace his fingers down the sides of Castiel’s body to his slim hips, Dean digs his fingers in to pull their bodies against each other, and the fact that Castiel lets himself be pulled is enough to send a streak of heat from Dean's head to toes.
“Dean?”
Castiel already sounds a little winded, and Dean breathes through a wave of arousal as he leans forward to slide their mouths together again, loving the feel of tentative lips moving against his in response. It takes mere seconds for Castiel to begin trembling against him, pressing his body blindly forward as he rasps something into Dean’s mouth, and Dean pulls back to give him a second of relief, wondering how overwhelming this would have to be after having been alive for thousands of years.
“Cas,” he murmurs, not liking the unsteadiness of his voice, but aware that there is little he can do about it, “Do us all a favour and remember to breathe, alright?”
“I -” Castiel's voice is ragged, so much lower than normal. “I don't need to.”
Since the reminder that he’s defiling an angel is the very opposite of helpful, Dean chooses to simply grunt an affirmative, the sensation of the angel’s lips moving against his own enough to make his pulse kick it up another notch. Sliding a tongue along the damp seam of Castiel’s lips, Dean gentles the contact as he waits for Castiel to relax, keeping his touches carefully controlled as he holds out for the angel to melt against him again, not wanting to push him faster and further than he’s ready for.
When that moment finally comes, it’s with a low groan that sounds as though Castiel has been holding it back for far too long, and Dean suddenly finds warm fingers trailing across his body, sliding underneath the back of his t-shirt, clinging to the strip of skin above his ass.
“Cas,” he tries to murmur, but Castiel is busy mimicking Dean’s earlier movements, as quick a learner at this as he is at everything else, already running his teeth over Dean’s lower lip, and Dean lets out a shuddering breath as warm fingers slide up his sides to cradle his jaw. “Cas, come on - bed - you, clothes -”
A tongue drags across his lip, trailing wetly across the damp skin, and Dean is still shuddering when Castiel pulls free to stare at him. The angel’s skin is flushed, those already obscene lips further swollen, and his fingers are still resting against Dean’s heated cheeks, as Castiel simply stands and stares at him as though he’s suddenly found something wonderful.
“I -” Castiel’s voice is sandpaper rough, and he clears his throat, as though he hadn’t realized how wrecked he would sound. “I - whatever you wish - I do not know -”
“Losing a few more layers would be a nice start.”
Cas’ voices cuts in from his position on the bed, and when Castiel actually jumps, as though he’d forgotten that Dean wasn’t the only person in the room, Dean takes a moment to feel slightly smug over his seduction techniques. That smugness vanishes when Castiel steps back from him and begins to work on his clothing, his eyes never straying far from Dean’s as his fingers work on his tie, sliding it from around his neck and then shrugging out of his trench coat, carelessly letting all the material fall to the carpet beneath his feet.
“Better?”
There’s hesitation to the rough question, and Dean has a moment of realizing that Castiel’s voice alone could probably kill him before the night is over. All he can do is manage a nod, and then he’s watching as Castiel leans down to take off his socks and shoes, before he begins to work on the buttons of his white shirt, gradually revealing a new world of unblemished skin to explore.
When the shirt joins the messy pile on the floor, leaving the angel naked save for his suit pants, Dean takes a long moment to just stare, trying to figure out how anyone with his fucked up history could ever deserve to be the first person who gets to see Castiel like this. The thought is cut short when a warm body suddenly presses against his back, and Dean can’t help a slight flinch - he hadn’t even seen the fallen angel get off the bed.
“Your turn,” Cas whispers against his ear, a scratch of stubble against his neck, and then fingers are sliding along the front of his body, catching against all the places that make Dean feel like his legs are about to go out from under him. He barely processes how it happens, but his shirt is suddenly being tugged over his head and dropped to the floor, and then a hand is playing along the top edges of his jeans, sending waves of heat from his groin to the place where Cas’ lips are fastened to the side of his neck.
“Cas -”
“Mmm hmm?”
Dean loses what he was going to say when that clever hand slips into his jeans and curls around the hard press of his cock, cradling him just right through the damp material of his boxers. He hears himself rasp out a curse, his breath tightening in his lungs, and then one hand is pulling Dean’s pants down while the other continues to squeeze just right - all while Castiel continues to simply stand in front of them, his skin more flushed than Dean’s ever seen it, and his mouth hanging open just slightly.
“Enjoying the show?”
When the angel’s response is to simply keep staring, Cas grins against Dean’s neck as he slides his hand free of Dean’s boxers, clever fingers working on getting Dean completely out of his jeans, until he’s wearing nothing but boxers and boots, and his pants are pooled awkwardly around his feet. Already missing the touch of those fingers around his cock, Dean is about to start on his boots when he then finds himself being turned around, as strong hands curl around his hips and manoeuvre his body with almost ridiculous ease.
Dean would at least put up a token protest at the gentle manhandling, but - for the first time since Dean met Cas - those blue eyes are shining with something that doesn’t look like a world of pain, and the sight is so distracting that Dean almost misses the part where Cas presses their lips together and then slides effortlessly to his knees. Dean nearly chokes on his own tongue as Cas dips his head and begins to work on the laces of his boots, and then Dean reaches out to gently tug on that mess of hair, not liking such a submissive gesture from someone who Dean knows has been brought to his knees way too many times.
“Hey, don’t -”
“Relax, Dean.” Cas yanks one boot from Dean’s foot, and throws it carelessly across the room, looking up to shoot him another smirk. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to see me on my knees.”
“I don’t need you to undo my damn boots for me. Future me might have been a dick, but -”
“None of this has anything to do with him.” There’s a flash to Cas’ eyes as he tears off the other boot and then Dean’s socks, chucking everything behind him before he slides back to his feet, pressing his lips hard against Dean’s and then pulling back to glare at him. “Don’t you bring him into this. This is about you, me, and that damn angel who’s standing behind you, shamelessly oogling your ass.”
Dean feels heat spread across his face, and the fallen angel’s eyes soften back to an expression of affection, as he raises a hand to curl it around the side of Dean’s cheek.
“Believe me. If you do anything I don’t want, you’ll know it. Now why don’t you get on that bed, so we can show your angel the time of his life?”
Dean waits for a moment longer, wanting to be absolutely sure of the sincerity in those blue eyes, and then he nods curtly and turns around to face Castiel, who’s been watching the exchange in silence. Before Dean can say anything, there’s a light shove against his back, and he looks over his shoulder to shoot Cas a glare before he slides onto the bed, conscious of two pairs of blue eyes raking across his almost naked body.
“I don’t think either of us approve of those boxers, Dean.”
Cas’ voice has slid back down to its earlier smoky register, and Dean bites down on his lip as he wiggles a little on the bed, sliding his boxers down his legs and then nudging them over the end of the bed, finally getting himself to the level of nakedness that Dean desperately wants for all of them.
“Well? This meet with your approval?”
He’s going for cocky, knowing that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of, but he can feel his confidence begin to waver as both versions of Castiel stare at him. There’s no doubt that they both want him for his body, but with the way that the angel doesn’t even try to hide the world of affection in his eyes, Dean is suddenly reminded that both of the beings standing in front of him have at one point touched his very soul.
“Uh, guys?”
There’s no response, and Dean realizes that he’s actually fucking blushing, even as all the blood in his system seems to race down to his cock, which is hardening further as the angel drags his eyes across every inch of him. Fighting the urge to shift in place, Dean stretches away from the bed to tug half-heartedly at the material of Castiel’s pants, his entire body beginning to heat under the scrutiny.
“What the hell, man. This isn’t fair.”
Castiel’s only response is to part his lips and continue to stare at him, that heated gaze still traveling across the expanse of newly bared skin, as though each bit of Dean’s body is something precious to be discovered. Dean is used to being looked at, sure, and he knows he’s a good looking guy, even when he has nothing else going for him - but the way Castiel is staring at him is different, almost reverent, and Dean suddenly can’t deal with being the focal point of such intense focus.
“Dude, make him stop that.”
There’s an unwanted rasp in his voice as he addresses Cas, but it’s obvious that he’s not gonna get much help there, as Cas simply smirks and crosses his arms across his bare chest, cocking a hip against the bedside dresser and shamelessly raking his eyes across the expanse of Dean’s body.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m quite enjoying the show, too.”
“Guys,” Dean hears himself plead somewhat helplessly, fighting the urge to somehow cover himself up, “Come on, this is ridiculous, would you just -”
And then, suddenly, the fallen angel is sliding onto the bed, naked save for that old pair of Dean’s jeans, bracing his body mere centimetres above Dean’s to keep the rough material from rubbing against the sensitive skin of Dean’s cock, and leaning down to rest his mouth against the curve of Dean’s lips.
“Dean,” Cas mutters roughly, too low for even Castiel to hear, as he slowly and deliberately curls his hand over the mark on Dean’s shoulder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, inside and out, and you’ve never been able to see it.”
The words seem to slice right through Dean, and he squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to have this conversation, something inside him starting to hurt as Cas’ cocky nonchalance momentarily falls apart around them both - but then Cas is pulling back to straddle Dean’s naked thighs, his heated gaze flicking down the length of Dean’s body as though he wants to crawl inside and make a home for himself.
“Come on, past me,” Cas mutters roughly, addressing his angelic self but never once taking his eyes from Dean. “Get your lovely ass naked, and then get the hell over here.”
Dean traitorous cock jumps at the command in those words, and then his mouth goes dry as Cas slides his tongue across the palm of his own hand, before reaching down to curl damp fingers around Dean’s cock. The burst of sensation shoots need to every inch of his skin, and he bites down on his lip as Cas begins a slow stroking motion that doesn’t even come close to the type of contact Dean needs, heat building low and insistent in his stomach as Cas watches the movement of his own hand.
“Cas -”
“Nu uh, Dean. Don’t pay attention to me. Your angel’s about to put on a little show for us.”
“Goddamn,” Dean mutters weakly, and then he turns to watch as Castiel hesitates for a long moment, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the slow movement of Cas’ hand around Dean’s cock, before he carelessly slides his suit pants to the floor and pulls off his boxers with unselfconscious efficiency.
And wow, is Castiel beautiful.
Dean immediately hates his brain for even phrasing it like that, but with most of the neurons in his head short-circuiting as Cas adds a slight twist to the grip of his fingers, Dean thinks he can be forgiven for the momentary lapse of sanity. Castiel is all pale lines and lean muscle, his cock hard and pressed against the perfect skin of his stomach, and Dean has the distant thought that Jimmy Novak was one damn good looking guy, and that Castiel certainly lucked out in the vessel department, to have been gifted with this body -
But the heat in that bright blue gaze, the enticing flush to those miles of pale skin, and the way Castiel doesn’t for one moment look away from him - that’s not Jimmy. There’s nothing at all about Jimmy in the flash of Castiel’s eyes. This is all Castiel in front of him, as Heaven’s finest angel throws away millennia of rigid obedience to be here, in Dean’s life and now in his bed, looking at Dean as though every sacrifice he’s made has been worth it since they’ve gotten them to this moment.
“Damn,” Cas suddenly breathes, his fingers slowing around Dean’s cock as he rakes his eyes across Castiel’s body, “I am one good looking guy.”
“And your modesty is all part of your charm.”
Dean bites out the words between his teeth, wanting the fallen angel to keep up his earlier stroking movement, but Cas just grins down at Dean and slips to his feet, sliding his jeans down to his feet with a carelessly sinuous twist of his hips, and Dean swears he can almost feel the saliva pool in his mouth.
“You would go commando.”
Dean’s voice somehow doesn’t get quite the right amount of disdain it needs, and Cas licks his lips on a smirk as he turns away from Dean to face the angel, still shamelessly running his gaze along the length of Castiel’s naked body.
“Alright, past me. Get on that bed.”
“What about you?”
Castiel cocks his head slightly as he asks the question, the same way he always does when he perplexed by some odd human custom, and Dean has a moment of thinking that his life is quite surreal.
“This is your first time, Castiel - not mine. Stop thinking and let us take care of ya.”
Castiel’s tongue slides across his lips as he glances towards Dean for confirmation, and when Dean reaches out to tug on his hand, the angel hesitantly climbs onto the bed and kneels there in front of him, all perfect miles of flawless skin and endearing awkwardness. Dean barely has time to appreciate the image before Cas is crawling onto the bed behind Castiel, pressing their bodies together and dragging his lips along the side of Castiel’s neck.
With a needy noise, Castiel’s eyes slide shut as his head instinctively tilts to the side, and Dean concentrates on not coming on the spot as he watches the fallen angel drag his teeth against all the skin he can reach, one hand sneaking around the front of Castiel’s body to press hard against his stomach.
“You ever touch yourself before, Cas?”
Castiel shakes his head somewhat frantically, his eyes still squeezed shut, and Cas shoots Dean that smirk of his that seems to promise nothing but filthy things in the future.
“Well, Dean? Why don’t you do the honours?”
Dean is climbing to his knees before Cas has even finished speaking, and then Castiel is pressed snugly in between the two of them, Cas’ teeth on his neck and Dean’s mouth sliding against his lips, as Dean reaches down between them to lightly curl his hand around the angel’s cock. When Castiel bucks forward with an almost hurt sound, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the skin of Dean’s back, Dean barely manages to stop the groan he can feel building in the back of his throat.
“Alright, Cas?”
Castiel doesn’t answer with words. The press of his mouth is suddenly frantic, his hips pressing forward as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, and Dean brings his hand back to his lips long enough to get it damp before he drops it again, curling his fingers around the angel’s cock with the kind of pressure that he himself likes best.
It seems to work. Castiel begins to mutter something that sounds like a repetition of Dean’s name, his fingernails digging crescents into Dean’s back as his damp lips go slack against Dean’s mouth, and the heat that shoots through Dean is part need, and part pride at being able to take apart someone who’s normally so utterly in control of himself. He keeps the pressure of his strokes slow and even, unsure of how fast and hard he should push this, and when he takes a moment to swipe his thumb along the sensitive skin beneath the head of Castiel’s cock, the angel actually cries out against his mouth.
“Dean - Dean, I -”
“Can you turn around, Cas?”
It seems to take the fallen angel’s voice a moment to register, and Castiel only opens his eyes when Dean stops the movement of his hand, causing the angel to buck forward against him.
“Dean - why are you stopping -”
“Turn around, Cas.” This time it’s more of an order than a question, designed to cut through the fog of lust that seems to hang like a tangible haze around Castiel, and Cas follows up on the words with another bite against Castiel’s neck. “And Dean, sit back against the headboard, would ya?”
Biting down the desperate need to keep touching Castiel’s body, Dean leans back against the pillows at the head of the bed, breathing through his own arousal and trying to ignore the noise of unhappiness the falls from the angel’s lips. Castiel stares at him for a wild moment, as though unable to figure out why he’s suddenly been denied this new pleasure, and it’s only when Cas gives him a nudge that he hesitantly turns around, letting Dean pull him back against the hard press of his body.
“Dean?”
Dean can’t find it in himself to answer as their bodies press together, too busy groaning and squeezing his eyes shut at the press of his chest to Castiel’s back, and the feeling of his cock sliding along the crease of Castiel’s ass, as he fights the urge to buck forward against that perfect heat and pressure.
“Relax, Cas. We’ll get ya there.”
Cas quirks another smirk as he takes a moment to stroke his fingers along his own cock, before he slides a bit closer and rests his hands on the inside of Castiel’s thighs, carelessly pushing them apart with the confidence of someone who knows he’s not going to get a single argument. As soon as Dean figures out what’s going on, it’s like someone has dumped kerosene into his veins and lit him up from the inside out.
“Ya don’t mind if I do the honours this time, do ya, Dean?”
Dean frantically shakes his head, bucking his hips up just long enough to slide his cock along the slick it’s creating in the crease of Castiel’s ass, and then Cas is pulling Castiel’s cock away from his stomach and leaning forward to rest his mouth just above the head of it, his eyes momentarily flicking up to Castiel’s face.
“If you need something to hold on to, I don’t mind having my hair pulled.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters weakly, and if Castiel had planned to offer any reprimands over the blasphemy, his voice seems to get stolen when Cas curls his long fingers around the base of his cock, giving it a couple of firm strokes before he slides his tongue all the way down, trailing it along the side and then curling underneath. It’s the worst possible kind of tease - light touches, when Castiel is probably desperate for something he doesn’t even understand yet - and Dean isn’t surprised when the angel’s hips buck forward helplessly.
“Easy,” Dean murmurs, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice, as he slides one arm down to press it across Castiel’s hips, knowing that he can’t physically hold the angel still, but trying to show him that gagging his future self would not be proper blowjob etiquette. “Easy, we got ya.”
“Dean -”
Whatever Castiel was going to say is cut off when Cas closes his lips around the angel’s cock, his cheeks hollowing with the kind of suction that makes Dean bite back a groan in sympathy, and Castiel’s head falls back weakly against Dean’s shoulder, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands scrabbling down their bodies to tangle in Cas’ messy hair. It’s easily one of the hottest moments of Dean’s entire life, and he bites down against the angel’s neck as he slides his fingers across Castiel’s chest, brushing the tips across nipples and sensitive skin as he never once takes his eyes from the sight of Cas’ lips stretched around the hardness of Castiel’s cock.
Then, Cas slowly pulls his damp mouth free, his swollen lips shining with saliva, as he dips his head to scrape his teeth along the inside of Castiel’s thigh, and the angel’s hips actually leave the bed, a ragged cry falling from his mouth.
“Told ya,” Cas mutters smugly, and Dean flashes back to that day in the motel room, when Cas had informed him that he was fond of teeth on his thighs - and then Dean is brought back to the present when Castiel begins to gasp weakly and tug his fingers through Cas’ hair, his eyes fluttering open to stare blankly at the ceiling, as Cas slides his tongue back down the side of his cock.
“You can fuck my mouth, Cas. You don’t have to hold back.”
Dean is pretty sure that the rather unmanly noise that just filled the room came from him, and he can’t stop himself from shoving his cock forward against the slick mess he’s made of Castiel’s ass, rocking the angel’s hips forward into the fallen angel’s mouth. When Cas makes a noise of pleasure and swallows around Castiel, sliding his mouth all the way down his cock to press his nose into the nest of curls there, Dean isn’t sure if the loudest groan comes from Castiel or from his own lips.
“Dean,” he starts to gasp, twisting helplessly in Dean’s grip, one hand yanking free of Cas’ hair to dig its nails into Dean’s thigh, even as he continues to press his hips forward into Cas’ mouth, “Dean, Dean, Dean -”
“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Cas mutters, pulling his mouth free, his lips swollen and soaked with saliva and precome, a mess that’s as beautiful as it is filthy. “Alright, Castiel, why don’t you -”
Cas is cut off as Castiel bites out a groan and pulls Cas up hard against his body, slamming their lips together with a wet sound that tightens the air in Dean’s chest. The suddenness of Castiel’s initiative is like a direct hit of liquid lust to his veins, and Dean rocks his cock against Castiel’s ass with a groan as he watches the fallen angel let out a squeak of surprise, floundering for a moment before he’s kissing Castiel back just as ferociously, curling his fingers into the angel’s messy hair and smearing the filthy dampness of his mouth all across Castiel’s cheeks and chin.
“Jesus Christ,” Cas rasps out, finally pulling away with a gasp, “Where the hell did that come from?”
Still pressed up against the angel’s back, Dean is unable to see Castiel’s expression, but if the bewilderment on the fallen angel’s face is anything to go by, Dean isn’t the only one who feels like the world just shifted on its axis. If he had known that getting Castiel naked would tear down some of his animosity towards Cas, then maybe they would have been doing this a lot sooner.
“I - I don’t know. It just seemed - right.”
“Right.”
Cas stares at himself for a moment longer, all blown blue eyes and a swollen mess of sticky lips, before he curls his fingers into the muscles of Castiel’s thighs and tugs, sliding back down the bed as he does so. Dean can feel the reluctance in the angel’s body as Cas peels him away from Dean, and when Castiel is kneeling on the side of the bed again, leaving nothing between Dean and Cas except for about a foot of empty space, Dean takes a moment to just rake his eyes over the marked up skin of the fallen angel’s body, something deep inside him starting to catch fire as Cas simply stares back at him.
Then, Cas slides in close and slowly manoeuvres Dean down onto his back, a smile curling across his face when Dean doesn’t resist the gentle manhandling. There’s something warm behind his eyes that Dean doesn’t think had been there when Cas had been focused on showing Castiel the good things about being in a human body, and when Cas deliberately lies down full-length against him, the slickness of his cock against Dean’s stomach a filthy drag of precome and promise, Dean can’t quite stop the shudder that vibrates across his skin.
“Cas, I -”
“I want to be inside you,” Cas whispers into his ear, leaning forward to drag his teeth against the sensitive skin. “I’d like to lay you out and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”
Dean closes his eyes, hating the twisted rush of need and vulnerability that accompanies those words, the images alone enough to make his cock jump against the hot skin of the fallen angel’s stomach. He’s slept with his share of guys, sure - but never with someone who knows him inside and out, and he has an odd feeling that Cas could probably take him apart in ways that Dean isn’t quite sure he could deal with.
“If you want me to, of course.”
There’s hesitation to his voice as Cas pulls back to meet his eyes, a flash of concern in those blue depths, and Dean sucks in a breath as he tries to bite down on his nerves, reminding himself of all the abuse he probably put Cas through in the future.
“Cas, I -”
“And don’t just do this for me.”
“How could you know -”
“I once cradled your soul against my grace, Dean. I know you better than anyone else on this planet. And I certainly don’t need to be an angel to read your mind.”
The reminder of exactly how far Castiel and Dean have come is a surreal conversation to have while Dean can feel the fallen angel’s cock pressed against his stomach, and he swallows hard as he suddenly realizes that he’s nodding his head, the tangle of need inside him blowing hot and hard in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” When Dean looks away at the flash of heat in Cas’ eyes, his gaze lands on where the angel is still kneeling on the side of the bed, watching the two of them with a pink flush to his cheeks. “What about Castiel?”
“Think you can hold out until he’s finished with you?”
All Dean can do is close his eyes and groan, and then Cas is kissing him to within an inch of his life, tangling his fingers into Dean’s short hair and sliding his tongue into his mouth in a way that feels like nothing less than being totally claimed. When Dean helplessly arches up into the contact, Cas deepens the press of his mouth for a few more seconds before he pulls away, sliding down the bed to lie between Dean’s legs, and grasping for something beside the bed. When he drags his jeans onto the bed, and pulls a packet of lube out of the back pocket, the only thing that keeps Dean from laughing is the wave of helpless lust that sweeps across his body.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
He doesn’t get nearly enough of a snark into the sentence, and Cas just smirks up at him, tearing the packet open with his teeth and smearing some lube across his fingers.
“Kept hoping you’d change your mind about me. Figured it’d be best to be prepared.”
Dean closes his eyes on a disbelieving groan, and then bites down on his lip as he feels large hands spread his legs apart, sending a flash of vulnerability sweeping through him. There’s a sudden rustle of sheets as Castiel climbs onto the bed beside him, the heat of his body pressed up against Dean’s enough to make him fight the urge to squirm closer, and then there’s an angel kissing him with enough enthusiasm to more than make up for his lack of experience. Dean carefully concentrates on those sensations, basking in the feeling of Castiel’s tongue sliding against his own, and he raises his fingers to grip on tight to Castiel’s arms as Cas’ fingers slide from his thighs to the soft skin around his asshole, pressing just lightly against the tight muscle.
“Relax, Dean. I’ve done this with you many times before.”
And for all that Dean feels like he’s about to fly apart, for all that he doesn’t do this with people who will be there when he wakes up, people whom he cannot afford to be this vulnerable around - the reassurance turns out to be true, and Dean finds himself gasping for air into Castiel’s mouth as Cas spends a good ten minutes slowly taking him apart.
He strokes and twists with his fingers, rubbing over Dean’s prostate with unnerving accuracy, somehow knowing exactly when to press harder, when to back off and give Dean a chance to breathe, when to spread his fingers, and when to add more lube. By the time the empty lube packet lands next to his thigh, Dean is harder than he can remember being in a long time, and Castiel is holding him while his body shakes under all the sensations, while Cas stares up at him like he’s somehow managed to find Heaven again.
“Ready?”
Dean can barely manage a nod, and then Cas is reaching up to touch Castiel’s arm. The angel glances at Dean, his mouth parting on an unasked question, and when Dean nods again, Castiel presses a shaky kiss to Dean’s mouth before he slides down the bed and lets Cas nudge him into position between Dean’s thighs, lifting Dean’s legs to wrap them around Castiel’s waist.
“Hang on a sec.”
Cas pulls out another packet of lube, tears it open and then slowly slides his hand along the length of Castiel’s cock, smirking when the angel squeezes his eyes shut and bucks forward into the touch, his teeth caught on his bottom lip as Cas adds a slight twist to his grip.
“There. You’re good. Now go slow.”
The feel of blunt pressure against his entrance has Dean squeezing his eyes shut again, some part of him rebelling against how much he wants this, even from someone for who’s seen him at his worst time and time again, and still wants him anyway - but then Cas is lying beside him, his lips on Dean’s neck and his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock, and Dean hears himself gasp out a groan as Castiel slides forward with a moan so loud it seems to heat up the entire room.
“Damn,” Cas breathes in obvious appreciation, lifting his head to watch, but Dean can barely hear or see him, too busy trying to not arch into Castiel for more, his body already aching to take more of the angel’s cock than is probably wise. Castiel is shaking on top of him, actually shaking, his eyes blown wide and his mouth hanging open, and when Dean feels him pull back a bit before pushing forward again, it’s all he can do to grit his teeth and just hold on.
Finally, after a minute that feels like an eternity, Castiel is all the way inside, and he lies down across Dean’s body with something that sounds like a whimper, his hands scrabbling across Dean’s skin as though he doesn’t quite know what to hold on to. Dean can barely manage to suck in enough oxygen, as the reality of what they’re doing finally hits home, the pleasure-pain stretch of Castiel’s cock proof that the best damn angel in the history of the world is currently laying Dean out and making a place for himself inside Dean’s body.
“Dean.”
It’s nothing more than a low mutter against his shoulder, and then Castiel is pulling back slightly, his head still buried into the safety of Dean’s shoulder, and Dean can feel his body lighting up from the inside out. There’s absolutely no way he could hide from this kind of sensation, and his skin catches fire as he rubs his cock against Castiel’s stomach, distantly remembering how good it felt the first time did this, and unable to imagine what it must be like after thousands of years of feeling nothing.
“It’s okay, Cas,” he manages to mutter, trying to think over the stretch of the angel’s cock inside him, as he raises his fingers to thread them through the angel’s sweaty hair, “You’re okay.”
“Dean,” Castiel breathes again, and then he lifts his head, chokes out another groan as he curls his fingers into an almost painful grip around the mark on Dean’s shoulder, his eyes on fire with something that Dean has never seen before. “This is the closest I’ve felt to you since… since…”
Castiel trails off, perhaps not sure that he should finish that thought, but the mention of where they’ve come from - the fact that he literally owes his life to the creature who’s currently buried deep inside him - is somehow some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac, and Dean bucks up towards Castiel with a bitten off groan, heat streaking from the hand on his shoulder and all the way down to his groin.
“I hear ya, Cas. Now please, for the love of everything, fuck me.”
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut with another mutter of Dean’s name, his hips going on instinct as he begins to slowly rock their bodies together, keeping the movements much too calm and gentle, and Dean closes his own eyes as his ass begins to accept the pressure of Castiel’s cock inside him, opening up around the angel like his body never wants Castiel to leave again.
“Come on, Cas.” He can feel his face burning as he bites out the words, but the angel on top of him is barely moving, while Cas’ fingers are doing nothing more than drawing idle patterns against his stomach, and the not-enough sensations are like lighting a match up his spine. “You can go harder than that.”
And maybe, if this were anyone other than Dean’s personal angel of the lord, they would just take Dean at his word and go to town. Castiel, though - because he seems to be physically incapable of not bringing something sentimental into any equation - simply keeps the movements gentle and presses a hard kiss against the slackness of Dean’s mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough.”
The words twist inside him, and when Dean can’t figure out whether to laugh or cry, he settles for biting down hard against Castiel’s lip, loving the hitched gasp and knowing that there’s no way he could ever do any kind of permanent damage.
“Heart-to-heart later, Cas. Right now, I just need you to fuck me.”
His skin burns even hotter as he gets out the words, some mixture of shame and desperate need lighting him up from his chest to the ache of his cock, but it has the desired effect of getting Castiel to abandon that particular conversation, and when the angel nods and gradually begins to increase the strength of his movements, it’s one of the best things Dean has felt in years - possibly in his entire life. Castiel’s fingers and lips never cease their travel across Dean’s body as his cock scrapes across Dean’s prostate often enough to leave Dean groaning, and by the time Castiel is coming, shaking against Dean and pressing hard kisses against the skin of his neck, Dean is grinding his teeth together and biting down on Castiel’s mouth against his own, desperately trying to not follow the angel over the edge.
“Alright, sweetheart. My turn.”
His face tucked into the skin of Dean’s neck and his breath coming in ragged gasps, the angel barely seems to register the sound of Cas’ shaky voice. Loving the feel of a heavy body spread out on top of his, Dean mercilessly bites down on the urge to cling to Castiel with everything he has, curling his fingers into the blankets underneath his body as Cas leans across Dean’s body to brush a kiss against Castiel’s cheek, sliding his fingers across the sweaty skin of his shoulders. When the angel finally manages to raise his eyes, his cheeks flushed red and his lips bitten almost bloody, the two versions of Castiel stare at each other for a long moment, and Dean closes his eyes as he realizes that they’re having a bonding moment over how it feels to fuck Dean Winchester.
It’s embarrassing as all hell, but at the same time, Dean can’t but feel taken care of.
When Castiel’s cock finally slides free of his body, Dean can’t quite muffle a hiss, but even the slight bite of pain is almost welcome - proof that what just happened has actually happened, and that he’s going to be feel this for at least a couple of days. Thankfully, before Dean can analyse that particular desire too far, Cas is pulling a condom out of his jeans, sliding it on and smearing a mess of lube across his cock, and then he’s sliding in between Dean’s thighs, unceremoniously hauling his knees over his shoulders and leaving Dean biting down against a brand new surge of embarrassed need.
“Still good with this?”
The concern in Cas’ voice is enough to make Dean bite back any of his concerns, and his face must be saying what his words can’t, because something in Cas’ expression seems to crack as he leans down to kiss him, dragging their mouths together as he slides himself inside Dean’s already stretched hole, his cock sinking easily through the slick mess left behind by Castiel. The stretch leaves Dean squirming against the bed sheets, his own cock sliding messily against Cas’ stomach as the fallen angel slowly bottoms out, and when he feels Cas biting curses into his skin, it’s enough to make Dean rock up hard against the fallen angel.
“Come on, man. You keep going on about how well you know my body, so why don’t you -”
“No bravado, Dean. I’ve waited too long to have you like this again.”
The words alone are enough to twist something inside Dean’s chest, and then he loses all the breath in his lungs as Cas slides backwards and then pushes forward again, his cock scraping across Dean’s prostate on the very first try, sending a shower of fireworks and pleasure across Dean’s vision. Dean can’t quite muffle a cry, his body already sensitive from the mess Castiel had made of him, and though he’s dimly aware of the angel lying beside him, pressing kisses against the skin of his shoulder, all he can truly concentrate on is the feeling of Cas beginning to completely take him apart, as the fallen angel begins to rock into him with a rhythm that feels like it’s been pulled out of every fantasy Dean has ever had.
“You - shit, Dean - still alright?”
Dean would laugh if he wasn’t too busy moaning himself hoarse, and when lust sparks even higher in his veins at the audible tension in Cas’ voice, all he can do is slam their mouths together and give up on dignity, the heat inside him spiralling higher and higher with every move Cas makes. It doesn’t take long for them slide into just breathing into each other’s mouths, all finesse gone as the fallen angel begins to pant harshly and bite down against Dean’s lips, until Cas suddenly tightens his grip on Dean’s body and rasps out ragged words against his mouth.
“Never letting you go again. Dean, I - mine. Never letting you go - you’re mine, even if I have to share you, you’re still mine -”
Dean trips over the precipice into his orgasm with a hoarse shout, the sudden wave of pleasure sending a sheet of white noise across his vision, every inch of his body snapping with tension and unraveling with bliss at the same time, as Cas’ words resonate in his ears and his fingers never let up on their tight grip against Dean’s shoulder. He’s dimly aware of the fallen angel trembling against him, gasping for air and muttering Dean’s name over and over again as his orgasm leaves him shaking, and all Dean can do is to hold on and weakly bury his face into the safety of Cas’ neck, gasping for breath as he slowly begins to come back down.
There’s silence for a long moment, until Cas murmurs his name again and presses a shaky kiss against his slack mouth, slowly pulling out of his body and then lying down on the bed beside Dean, slinging a possessive arm across his chest without saying a single word. Dean swallows around the stupid swell of emotion in his throat, and then closes his eyes and reaches out to tug Castiel against his body, feeling safe and content for the first time in longer than he cares to imagine, with Cas curled up on one side of him, and Castiel on the other side.
- - -
Part Seven
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: All possible variations of Dean/Castiel/future!Castiel.
A/N: An AU that picks up immediately after 'The End'. Also, the title is based on this song, because it's my quintessential future!Cas song.
Summary: Although Dean may have been unable to save his brother in that hellish future world, there's a certain fallen angel that Castiel might just be able to rescue in time.
Word count: 36,000
Warnings: Drug abuse, past drug abuse, alcohol abuse, violence, memories of Hell (flashbacks to torture), implied prostitution.
Also, amazing artwork by peach_gurl can be can be found over here.
- - -
When Dean begins to slowly wake up, it’s to the feeling of gentle fingers threading through his hair.
The sensation is like getting punched in the heart. Dean takes a second to assess his surroundings - sleeping with his head on an angel’s stomach, with Cas curled up asleep on the floor beside them - before he exhales shakily and reminds himself to breathe, because the fingers in his hair are incontrovertible proof that Castiel is still alive.
“Dean.”
Dean swallows around the tension in his throat, unable to speak over the sensation of Castiel’s fingers sliding through his hair, and tries not to freak out about the fact that - at some point in the night - he had curled up with his head on Castiel’s stomach.
“Are you - is this alright, to touch you like this?”
Raising his head slightly, careful to not dislodge the fingers tangled in his hair, Dean stares up at the tired lines of the angel’s face, gratefully taking in the healthy tint of his skin, the lucidity and clarity behind his eyes.
“You’re -” When Dean’s voice cracks, he swallows and tries again. “You’re okay?”
“Your voice gave me an anchor to this world.”
Castiel looks mostly whole and healthy again, the gouges vanished from his chest, his ridiculous trench coat outfit once again in one piece, and Dean desperately wants to crawl up onto his knees and press his mouth against the curve of the angel’s lips, to explore the insides of his mouth with his tongue until Castiel can’t help but kiss him back.
“You’re staring, Dean.”
“Sorry, I just - you were pretty out of it.”
The fingers in his hair slide to press against the curve of Dean’s cheek, and the needy noise that falls from Dean’s lips is one that he will deny for the rest of his life. There’s a flush beginning to spread across Castiel’s cheek, a tension to the pressure of his fingertips against Dean’s skin, and Dean suddenly and desperately wants to take a chance and stop wasting what may be the last few months of their lives.
“Dean?”
“When did -” Dean has to stop and try again, his body heating up at the slow rise and fall of Castiel’s stomach next to Dean’s cheek. “What made you change your mind?”
The words about us go unspoken. Based on the way Castiel can’t seem to stop touching him, it’s obvious that something has finally torn down the angel’s reservations over whatever might be happening between them.
“Almost being ripped from this body seems to have impressed upon me the precariousness of our lives.”
“Cas -”
“I have existed for millennia without truly feeling the passage of time, and yet now, somehow, every day seems like something fragile and precious.”
There’s something almost sad and wistful there, but there’s a lightness to Castiel’s eyes as he continues to slide his fingers along Dean’s cheek, and Dean feels something inside himself finally break apart as he climbs up onto to his aching knees and leans down to press his lips against the chapped ones in front of him, hoping desperately that he’s not going to be pushed away.
There are a few moments of complete stillness, until -
“Dean.”
Castiel sighs out his name like it’s a prayer, his body going slack against the pressure of Dean’s lips against his own, and Dean would be terrified of the reverence in his tone if not for the way Castiel is suddenly kissing him back, clumsy and inexperienced but so fucking earnest it makes Dean almost lose his mind with affection and need.
“Cas,” he manages to grit out, as Castiel’s warm fingers curl into the skin of arms, “You sure -”
“Yes, Dean - yes, I - I’ve made my decision - I -”
“Glad to see you got the party started without me.”
Dean and Castiel freeze as a third voice cuts into their conversation, and then Dean is pulling away from the temptation of Castiel’s lips to stare at the fallen angel, whose skin still seems to be painted an almost unnatural shade of white, even as the dim light of morning splashes him with lines of colour. His blue eyes are wider than normal, and there’s something guarded about the tight press of his lips, as he glances between Dean and his past self with an open expression of uncertainty.
“Well? Am I staying or going?”
Castiel’s fingers are still digging into Dean’s arms, and Dean brings his eyes back to the angel, knowing what he wants, knowing that choosing between the two of them could very well wreck everything they’ve managed to build between the three of them, but wanting to be sure that this version of Castiel is on board, that he’s not going to freak out over the thought of getting naked with his future self.
“You kissed him last night.”
“Uh.” Dean swallows hard, and makes himself continue to meet Castiel’s eyes. “You heard that, huh.”
Castiel stares at him for another long moment, and then a hint of a frown crosses his expression, before he drags his eyes to his future self. When he gently frees himself from Dean’s hold and climbs to his feet, looking whole and healthy and suddenly so damn righteous, leaving Dean to kneel on the floor and stare up at him, Dean is painfully reminded that this is an angel of the lord that he’s proposing a threesome to.
“Cas?” Dean barely gets the words out over his rapid heartbeat, wondering why he had ever thought this could be a good idea. “Look, I don’t expect you to -”
“If my future self is important to you, then that is enough for me.”
It takes about three seconds for the words to actually process, and then all the breath seems to leave Dean’s lungs in a relieved whoosh. He blinks stupidly at both versions of Castiel for a moment longer, until the fallen angel snakes out a hand to clench it into Dean’s, yanking Dean to his feet and simultaneously reaching out to curl his fingers into the material of Castiel’s trench coat.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
The angel doesn’t hesitate with his answer, and as Cas and Castiel take a moment to simply stare at each other, one a tower of righteous trench coat glory and the other a mess of stubble and Dean’s old clothing, Dean feels heat begin to spread across his aching skin, and he starts losing blood from his head so rapidly it almost makes him dizzy.
“Uh, guys?”
There’s another agonizing moment of silence, and then the fallen angel turns to shoot him a smirk that makes his knees do funny things beneath him. Dean barely has time to panic about what he’s getting into before Cas is crossing the room and heading for the stairs, shooting a parting remark over his shoulder as he goes.
“C’mon, then. We’re not doing this on Bobby’s living room floor.”
With that, Cas is gone up the stairs, and Dean and Castiel stare each other for a somewhat disbelieving moment, until Dean reaches out to tug on Castiel’s coat sleeve, and they hesitantly follow after the fallen angel.
- - -
“So, Dean? When was the last time you got naked with another guy?”
Dean swallows hard, watching as the human version of Castiel carelessly strips Dean’s old zeppelin t-shirt free of his body, tossing it to the floor with that dangerous smirk still playing around his lips. Dean isn’t exactly sure how they all ended up in Bobby’s guestroom, but as his eyes slide along the length of the fallen angel’s body, watching the muscles in that slim form shift as Cas bends down to strip off his socks, he finds that he doesn’t really care.
“Dean.”
Dean only then realizes he hasn’t responded to the question, and when the fallen angel just smirks a little wider, Dean licks his suddenly dry lips and tries for words.
“Couple of years.”
“Bit out of practice, then.”
Dean bristles for a moment at the accusation, but before he can form a protest, Cas has slid a couple of steps forward to stand right in front of his angelic self, and the sight of the two of them all but breathing each other’s air is enough to cut off Dean’s complaints.
“And my past self is clueless. Guess I’m running this show.”
“Are you -”As Cas raises a hand to curl it around Castiel’s cheek, Dean has to stop and clear his throat before trying again. “Are you always this cocky?”
“You forget that I know exactly how to touch both of you.”
It’s something that Dean had indeed forgotten, and the wave of heat that sweeps across his body leaves him slightly dizzy. As he watches, Cas drags a gentle finger along the edge of Castiel’s upper lip, his eyes never once leaving Castiel’s wide-eyed stare, as though the fallen angel has momentarily chosen to ignore the fact that Dean is still in the room.
“You’re not yet kinky enough to want to fuck your future self, are you.”
Castiel swallows hard at the question, a slight stain spreading across his cheeks, and Cas smirks as he casually slides the tip of one long finger between Castiel’s lips, never once breaking their ridiculously intense eye contact.
“Better reaction than I’d hoped for. We’ll get ya there eventually. For now, let’s give Dean a bit of a show, shall we?”
Staring at his future self as though he’s only just seeing him for the first time, Castiel stays completely still as Cas leans in to press their lips together, his fingers sliding down from Castiel’s cheeks to curl into the sleeves of Castiel’s trench coat. Dean hears an odd noise slip from between his own lips, and all the air leaves the room as he watches Cas begin to take himself apart with a kiss that seems to know exactly how to melt the angel’s legs beneath him.
Dean only realizes his mouth is hanging open when Cas’ tongue slides out to play along the edges of Castiel’s lips, slipping inside with a confidence born of knowing how his partner likes to be kissed, and Dean hears himself make another ragged noise as Castiel suddenly presses forward a bit and digs his fingers into the skin of Cas’ arms, his nails probably leaving new scratches among the patchwork of track marks. If Cas minds the bite of pain, he certainly doesn’t seem to show it, as he simply tightens his hold on Castiel’s jacket and scrapes his teeth along the sensitive flesh of Castiel’s bottom lip.
Then, Cas steps back with a sharp exhale, his face flushed with more colour than Dean has ever seen on that pale skin, and Dean bites down on his own lip as Castiel stares wide-eyed at his future self, as though he’s suddenly found himself somewhere unexpected and doesn’t know what to do about it.
“You liked that, huh.”
Cas somehow doesn’t come off as nearly as confident as he probably would have liked, and when Castiel simply nods and continues to stare at him, Cas swallows hard and steps back out of Castiel’s grip.
“Good. That makes things easier. Now why don’t you two get naked so we can make use of this bed?”
Dean has a moment of realizing that he might be getting in over his head, and it doesn’t exactly help to calm his nerves when Cas returns to the bed and stretches out on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows with that ever-present smirk, as though he’s going to just lie there and watch both of them shed the meagre protection that comes from their clothing, and that he’s going to love every second of it.
“Well?”
Cursing the heat he can feel spreading across his cheeks, Dean tears his eyes from the fallen angel and crosses the short distance between himself and Castiel, reaching out to hesitantly curl his hands against the curves of Castiel’s hips under all that trench coat, something in him completely unsurprised when Castiel doesn’t break eye contact for even a second.
“Cas,” he starts, one last chance, knowing that there’s no going back from this, “Are you positive that -”
“Please do not ask me again if I’m sure.”
There’s an odd catch to the angel’s voice, and Dean mutters a curse at the need he can see in those blue, wondering what he’s ever done to deserve something this good. Not wanting to follow that train of thought too far, he tells himself to man the fuck up as he leans in to scrape his teeth against the softness of Castiel’s lower lip, loving the way Castiel makes a hurt sound and goes instantly boneless, his body moulding against Dean’s own like there’s nowhere in the world he’d rather be.
“Dean - Dean, I -”
“I know. I gotcha, I promise -”
“Does it always feel like this?”
The question is so honestly sincere that Dean has to bury his grin in the safety of Castiel’s neck, unable to meet those wide blue eyes as he slides his lips across the expanse of warm skin, a tremor of true happiness skirting across his body for the first time in longer than he cares to think.
“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
When Dean is sure that his grin has been wrested under control, he frees his lips from the curve of Castiel’s neck and pulls back to stare at flashing blue eyes and tinted skin, his entire body jolting with sudden arousal when a tongue slides out across Castiel’s chapped lips. Reaching out to slowly trace his fingers down the sides of Castiel’s body to his slim hips, Dean digs his fingers in to pull their bodies against each other, and the fact that Castiel lets himself be pulled is enough to send a streak of heat from Dean's head to toes.
“Dean?”
Castiel already sounds a little winded, and Dean breathes through a wave of arousal as he leans forward to slide their mouths together again, loving the feel of tentative lips moving against his in response. It takes mere seconds for Castiel to begin trembling against him, pressing his body blindly forward as he rasps something into Dean’s mouth, and Dean pulls back to give him a second of relief, wondering how overwhelming this would have to be after having been alive for thousands of years.
“Cas,” he murmurs, not liking the unsteadiness of his voice, but aware that there is little he can do about it, “Do us all a favour and remember to breathe, alright?”
“I -” Castiel's voice is ragged, so much lower than normal. “I don't need to.”
Since the reminder that he’s defiling an angel is the very opposite of helpful, Dean chooses to simply grunt an affirmative, the sensation of the angel’s lips moving against his own enough to make his pulse kick it up another notch. Sliding a tongue along the damp seam of Castiel’s lips, Dean gentles the contact as he waits for Castiel to relax, keeping his touches carefully controlled as he holds out for the angel to melt against him again, not wanting to push him faster and further than he’s ready for.
When that moment finally comes, it’s with a low groan that sounds as though Castiel has been holding it back for far too long, and Dean suddenly finds warm fingers trailing across his body, sliding underneath the back of his t-shirt, clinging to the strip of skin above his ass.
“Cas,” he tries to murmur, but Castiel is busy mimicking Dean’s earlier movements, as quick a learner at this as he is at everything else, already running his teeth over Dean’s lower lip, and Dean lets out a shuddering breath as warm fingers slide up his sides to cradle his jaw. “Cas, come on - bed - you, clothes -”
A tongue drags across his lip, trailing wetly across the damp skin, and Dean is still shuddering when Castiel pulls free to stare at him. The angel’s skin is flushed, those already obscene lips further swollen, and his fingers are still resting against Dean’s heated cheeks, as Castiel simply stands and stares at him as though he’s suddenly found something wonderful.
“I -” Castiel’s voice is sandpaper rough, and he clears his throat, as though he hadn’t realized how wrecked he would sound. “I - whatever you wish - I do not know -”
“Losing a few more layers would be a nice start.”
Cas’ voices cuts in from his position on the bed, and when Castiel actually jumps, as though he’d forgotten that Dean wasn’t the only person in the room, Dean takes a moment to feel slightly smug over his seduction techniques. That smugness vanishes when Castiel steps back from him and begins to work on his clothing, his eyes never straying far from Dean’s as his fingers work on his tie, sliding it from around his neck and then shrugging out of his trench coat, carelessly letting all the material fall to the carpet beneath his feet.
“Better?”
There’s hesitation to the rough question, and Dean has a moment of realizing that Castiel’s voice alone could probably kill him before the night is over. All he can do is manage a nod, and then he’s watching as Castiel leans down to take off his socks and shoes, before he begins to work on the buttons of his white shirt, gradually revealing a new world of unblemished skin to explore.
When the shirt joins the messy pile on the floor, leaving the angel naked save for his suit pants, Dean takes a long moment to just stare, trying to figure out how anyone with his fucked up history could ever deserve to be the first person who gets to see Castiel like this. The thought is cut short when a warm body suddenly presses against his back, and Dean can’t help a slight flinch - he hadn’t even seen the fallen angel get off the bed.
“Your turn,” Cas whispers against his ear, a scratch of stubble against his neck, and then fingers are sliding along the front of his body, catching against all the places that make Dean feel like his legs are about to go out from under him. He barely processes how it happens, but his shirt is suddenly being tugged over his head and dropped to the floor, and then a hand is playing along the top edges of his jeans, sending waves of heat from his groin to the place where Cas’ lips are fastened to the side of his neck.
“Cas -”
“Mmm hmm?”
Dean loses what he was going to say when that clever hand slips into his jeans and curls around the hard press of his cock, cradling him just right through the damp material of his boxers. He hears himself rasp out a curse, his breath tightening in his lungs, and then one hand is pulling Dean’s pants down while the other continues to squeeze just right - all while Castiel continues to simply stand in front of them, his skin more flushed than Dean’s ever seen it, and his mouth hanging open just slightly.
“Enjoying the show?”
When the angel’s response is to simply keep staring, Cas grins against Dean’s neck as he slides his hand free of Dean’s boxers, clever fingers working on getting Dean completely out of his jeans, until he’s wearing nothing but boxers and boots, and his pants are pooled awkwardly around his feet. Already missing the touch of those fingers around his cock, Dean is about to start on his boots when he then finds himself being turned around, as strong hands curl around his hips and manoeuvre his body with almost ridiculous ease.
Dean would at least put up a token protest at the gentle manhandling, but - for the first time since Dean met Cas - those blue eyes are shining with something that doesn’t look like a world of pain, and the sight is so distracting that Dean almost misses the part where Cas presses their lips together and then slides effortlessly to his knees. Dean nearly chokes on his own tongue as Cas dips his head and begins to work on the laces of his boots, and then Dean reaches out to gently tug on that mess of hair, not liking such a submissive gesture from someone who Dean knows has been brought to his knees way too many times.
“Hey, don’t -”
“Relax, Dean.” Cas yanks one boot from Dean’s foot, and throws it carelessly across the room, looking up to shoot him another smirk. “Don’t tell me you’ve never wanted to see me on my knees.”
“I don’t need you to undo my damn boots for me. Future me might have been a dick, but -”
“None of this has anything to do with him.” There’s a flash to Cas’ eyes as he tears off the other boot and then Dean’s socks, chucking everything behind him before he slides back to his feet, pressing his lips hard against Dean’s and then pulling back to glare at him. “Don’t you bring him into this. This is about you, me, and that damn angel who’s standing behind you, shamelessly oogling your ass.”
Dean feels heat spread across his face, and the fallen angel’s eyes soften back to an expression of affection, as he raises a hand to curl it around the side of Dean’s cheek.
“Believe me. If you do anything I don’t want, you’ll know it. Now why don’t you get on that bed, so we can show your angel the time of his life?”
Dean waits for a moment longer, wanting to be absolutely sure of the sincerity in those blue eyes, and then he nods curtly and turns around to face Castiel, who’s been watching the exchange in silence. Before Dean can say anything, there’s a light shove against his back, and he looks over his shoulder to shoot Cas a glare before he slides onto the bed, conscious of two pairs of blue eyes raking across his almost naked body.
“I don’t think either of us approve of those boxers, Dean.”
Cas’ voice has slid back down to its earlier smoky register, and Dean bites down on his lip as he wiggles a little on the bed, sliding his boxers down his legs and then nudging them over the end of the bed, finally getting himself to the level of nakedness that Dean desperately wants for all of them.
“Well? This meet with your approval?”
He’s going for cocky, knowing that he’s got nothing to be ashamed of, but he can feel his confidence begin to waver as both versions of Castiel stare at him. There’s no doubt that they both want him for his body, but with the way that the angel doesn’t even try to hide the world of affection in his eyes, Dean is suddenly reminded that both of the beings standing in front of him have at one point touched his very soul.
“Uh, guys?”
There’s no response, and Dean realizes that he’s actually fucking blushing, even as all the blood in his system seems to race down to his cock, which is hardening further as the angel drags his eyes across every inch of him. Fighting the urge to shift in place, Dean stretches away from the bed to tug half-heartedly at the material of Castiel’s pants, his entire body beginning to heat under the scrutiny.
“What the hell, man. This isn’t fair.”
Castiel’s only response is to part his lips and continue to stare at him, that heated gaze still traveling across the expanse of newly bared skin, as though each bit of Dean’s body is something precious to be discovered. Dean is used to being looked at, sure, and he knows he’s a good looking guy, even when he has nothing else going for him - but the way Castiel is staring at him is different, almost reverent, and Dean suddenly can’t deal with being the focal point of such intense focus.
“Dude, make him stop that.”
There’s an unwanted rasp in his voice as he addresses Cas, but it’s obvious that he’s not gonna get much help there, as Cas simply smirks and crosses his arms across his bare chest, cocking a hip against the bedside dresser and shamelessly raking his eyes across the expanse of Dean’s body.
“No, I don’t think so. I’m quite enjoying the show, too.”
“Guys,” Dean hears himself plead somewhat helplessly, fighting the urge to somehow cover himself up, “Come on, this is ridiculous, would you just -”
And then, suddenly, the fallen angel is sliding onto the bed, naked save for that old pair of Dean’s jeans, bracing his body mere centimetres above Dean’s to keep the rough material from rubbing against the sensitive skin of Dean’s cock, and leaning down to rest his mouth against the curve of Dean’s lips.
“Dean,” Cas mutters roughly, too low for even Castiel to hear, as he slowly and deliberately curls his hand over the mark on Dean’s shoulder, “You’re so fucking beautiful, inside and out, and you’ve never been able to see it.”
The words seem to slice right through Dean, and he squeezes his eyes shut, not wanting to have this conversation, something inside him starting to hurt as Cas’ cocky nonchalance momentarily falls apart around them both - but then Cas is pulling back to straddle Dean’s naked thighs, his heated gaze flicking down the length of Dean’s body as though he wants to crawl inside and make a home for himself.
“Come on, past me,” Cas mutters roughly, addressing his angelic self but never once taking his eyes from Dean. “Get your lovely ass naked, and then get the hell over here.”
Dean traitorous cock jumps at the command in those words, and then his mouth goes dry as Cas slides his tongue across the palm of his own hand, before reaching down to curl damp fingers around Dean’s cock. The burst of sensation shoots need to every inch of his skin, and he bites down on his lip as Cas begins a slow stroking motion that doesn’t even come close to the type of contact Dean needs, heat building low and insistent in his stomach as Cas watches the movement of his own hand.
“Cas -”
“Nu uh, Dean. Don’t pay attention to me. Your angel’s about to put on a little show for us.”
“Goddamn,” Dean mutters weakly, and then he turns to watch as Castiel hesitates for a long moment, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the slow movement of Cas’ hand around Dean’s cock, before he carelessly slides his suit pants to the floor and pulls off his boxers with unselfconscious efficiency.
And wow, is Castiel beautiful.
Dean immediately hates his brain for even phrasing it like that, but with most of the neurons in his head short-circuiting as Cas adds a slight twist to the grip of his fingers, Dean thinks he can be forgiven for the momentary lapse of sanity. Castiel is all pale lines and lean muscle, his cock hard and pressed against the perfect skin of his stomach, and Dean has the distant thought that Jimmy Novak was one damn good looking guy, and that Castiel certainly lucked out in the vessel department, to have been gifted with this body -
But the heat in that bright blue gaze, the enticing flush to those miles of pale skin, and the way Castiel doesn’t for one moment look away from him - that’s not Jimmy. There’s nothing at all about Jimmy in the flash of Castiel’s eyes. This is all Castiel in front of him, as Heaven’s finest angel throws away millennia of rigid obedience to be here, in Dean’s life and now in his bed, looking at Dean as though every sacrifice he’s made has been worth it since they’ve gotten them to this moment.
“Damn,” Cas suddenly breathes, his fingers slowing around Dean’s cock as he rakes his eyes across Castiel’s body, “I am one good looking guy.”
“And your modesty is all part of your charm.”
Dean bites out the words between his teeth, wanting the fallen angel to keep up his earlier stroking movement, but Cas just grins down at Dean and slips to his feet, sliding his jeans down to his feet with a carelessly sinuous twist of his hips, and Dean swears he can almost feel the saliva pool in his mouth.
“You would go commando.”
Dean’s voice somehow doesn’t get quite the right amount of disdain it needs, and Cas licks his lips on a smirk as he turns away from Dean to face the angel, still shamelessly running his gaze along the length of Castiel’s naked body.
“Alright, past me. Get on that bed.”
“What about you?”
Castiel cocks his head slightly as he asks the question, the same way he always does when he perplexed by some odd human custom, and Dean has a moment of thinking that his life is quite surreal.
“This is your first time, Castiel - not mine. Stop thinking and let us take care of ya.”
Castiel’s tongue slides across his lips as he glances towards Dean for confirmation, and when Dean reaches out to tug on his hand, the angel hesitantly climbs onto the bed and kneels there in front of him, all perfect miles of flawless skin and endearing awkwardness. Dean barely has time to appreciate the image before Cas is crawling onto the bed behind Castiel, pressing their bodies together and dragging his lips along the side of Castiel’s neck.
With a needy noise, Castiel’s eyes slide shut as his head instinctively tilts to the side, and Dean concentrates on not coming on the spot as he watches the fallen angel drag his teeth against all the skin he can reach, one hand sneaking around the front of Castiel’s body to press hard against his stomach.
“You ever touch yourself before, Cas?”
Castiel shakes his head somewhat frantically, his eyes still squeezed shut, and Cas shoots Dean that smirk of his that seems to promise nothing but filthy things in the future.
“Well, Dean? Why don’t you do the honours?”
Dean is climbing to his knees before Cas has even finished speaking, and then Castiel is pressed snugly in between the two of them, Cas’ teeth on his neck and Dean’s mouth sliding against his lips, as Dean reaches down between them to lightly curl his hand around the angel’s cock. When Castiel bucks forward with an almost hurt sound, his hands scrabbling for purchase against the skin of Dean’s back, Dean barely manages to stop the groan he can feel building in the back of his throat.
“Alright, Cas?”
Castiel doesn’t answer with words. The press of his mouth is suddenly frantic, his hips pressing forward as though he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself, and Dean brings his hand back to his lips long enough to get it damp before he drops it again, curling his fingers around the angel’s cock with the kind of pressure that he himself likes best.
It seems to work. Castiel begins to mutter something that sounds like a repetition of Dean’s name, his fingernails digging crescents into Dean’s back as his damp lips go slack against Dean’s mouth, and the heat that shoots through Dean is part need, and part pride at being able to take apart someone who’s normally so utterly in control of himself. He keeps the pressure of his strokes slow and even, unsure of how fast and hard he should push this, and when he takes a moment to swipe his thumb along the sensitive skin beneath the head of Castiel’s cock, the angel actually cries out against his mouth.
“Dean - Dean, I -”
“Can you turn around, Cas?”
It seems to take the fallen angel’s voice a moment to register, and Castiel only opens his eyes when Dean stops the movement of his hand, causing the angel to buck forward against him.
“Dean - why are you stopping -”
“Turn around, Cas.” This time it’s more of an order than a question, designed to cut through the fog of lust that seems to hang like a tangible haze around Castiel, and Cas follows up on the words with another bite against Castiel’s neck. “And Dean, sit back against the headboard, would ya?”
Biting down the desperate need to keep touching Castiel’s body, Dean leans back against the pillows at the head of the bed, breathing through his own arousal and trying to ignore the noise of unhappiness the falls from the angel’s lips. Castiel stares at him for a wild moment, as though unable to figure out why he’s suddenly been denied this new pleasure, and it’s only when Cas gives him a nudge that he hesitantly turns around, letting Dean pull him back against the hard press of his body.
“Dean?”
Dean can’t find it in himself to answer as their bodies press together, too busy groaning and squeezing his eyes shut at the press of his chest to Castiel’s back, and the feeling of his cock sliding along the crease of Castiel’s ass, as he fights the urge to buck forward against that perfect heat and pressure.
“Relax, Cas. We’ll get ya there.”
Cas quirks another smirk as he takes a moment to stroke his fingers along his own cock, before he slides a bit closer and rests his hands on the inside of Castiel’s thighs, carelessly pushing them apart with the confidence of someone who knows he’s not going to get a single argument. As soon as Dean figures out what’s going on, it’s like someone has dumped kerosene into his veins and lit him up from the inside out.
“Ya don’t mind if I do the honours this time, do ya, Dean?”
Dean frantically shakes his head, bucking his hips up just long enough to slide his cock along the slick it’s creating in the crease of Castiel’s ass, and then Cas is pulling Castiel’s cock away from his stomach and leaning forward to rest his mouth just above the head of it, his eyes momentarily flicking up to Castiel’s face.
“If you need something to hold on to, I don’t mind having my hair pulled.”
“Jesus Christ,” Dean mutters weakly, and if Castiel had planned to offer any reprimands over the blasphemy, his voice seems to get stolen when Cas curls his long fingers around the base of his cock, giving it a couple of firm strokes before he slides his tongue all the way down, trailing it along the side and then curling underneath. It’s the worst possible kind of tease - light touches, when Castiel is probably desperate for something he doesn’t even understand yet - and Dean isn’t surprised when the angel’s hips buck forward helplessly.
“Easy,” Dean murmurs, trying to keep the eagerness out of his voice, as he slides one arm down to press it across Castiel’s hips, knowing that he can’t physically hold the angel still, but trying to show him that gagging his future self would not be proper blowjob etiquette. “Easy, we got ya.”
“Dean -”
Whatever Castiel was going to say is cut off when Cas closes his lips around the angel’s cock, his cheeks hollowing with the kind of suction that makes Dean bite back a groan in sympathy, and Castiel’s head falls back weakly against Dean’s shoulder, his eyes squeezing shut and his hands scrabbling down their bodies to tangle in Cas’ messy hair. It’s easily one of the hottest moments of Dean’s entire life, and he bites down against the angel’s neck as he slides his fingers across Castiel’s chest, brushing the tips across nipples and sensitive skin as he never once takes his eyes from the sight of Cas’ lips stretched around the hardness of Castiel’s cock.
Then, Cas slowly pulls his damp mouth free, his swollen lips shining with saliva, as he dips his head to scrape his teeth along the inside of Castiel’s thigh, and the angel’s hips actually leave the bed, a ragged cry falling from his mouth.
“Told ya,” Cas mutters smugly, and Dean flashes back to that day in the motel room, when Cas had informed him that he was fond of teeth on his thighs - and then Dean is brought back to the present when Castiel begins to gasp weakly and tug his fingers through Cas’ hair, his eyes fluttering open to stare blankly at the ceiling, as Cas slides his tongue back down the side of his cock.
“You can fuck my mouth, Cas. You don’t have to hold back.”
Dean is pretty sure that the rather unmanly noise that just filled the room came from him, and he can’t stop himself from shoving his cock forward against the slick mess he’s made of Castiel’s ass, rocking the angel’s hips forward into the fallen angel’s mouth. When Cas makes a noise of pleasure and swallows around Castiel, sliding his mouth all the way down his cock to press his nose into the nest of curls there, Dean isn’t sure if the loudest groan comes from Castiel or from his own lips.
“Dean,” he starts to gasp, twisting helplessly in Dean’s grip, one hand yanking free of Cas’ hair to dig its nails into Dean’s thigh, even as he continues to press his hips forward into Cas’ mouth, “Dean, Dean, Dean -”
“I’ll try not to take that personally,” Cas mutters, pulling his mouth free, his lips swollen and soaked with saliva and precome, a mess that’s as beautiful as it is filthy. “Alright, Castiel, why don’t you -”
Cas is cut off as Castiel bites out a groan and pulls Cas up hard against his body, slamming their lips together with a wet sound that tightens the air in Dean’s chest. The suddenness of Castiel’s initiative is like a direct hit of liquid lust to his veins, and Dean rocks his cock against Castiel’s ass with a groan as he watches the fallen angel let out a squeak of surprise, floundering for a moment before he’s kissing Castiel back just as ferociously, curling his fingers into the angel’s messy hair and smearing the filthy dampness of his mouth all across Castiel’s cheeks and chin.
“Jesus Christ,” Cas rasps out, finally pulling away with a gasp, “Where the hell did that come from?”
Still pressed up against the angel’s back, Dean is unable to see Castiel’s expression, but if the bewilderment on the fallen angel’s face is anything to go by, Dean isn’t the only one who feels like the world just shifted on its axis. If he had known that getting Castiel naked would tear down some of his animosity towards Cas, then maybe they would have been doing this a lot sooner.
“I - I don’t know. It just seemed - right.”
“Right.”
Cas stares at himself for a moment longer, all blown blue eyes and a swollen mess of sticky lips, before he curls his fingers into the muscles of Castiel’s thighs and tugs, sliding back down the bed as he does so. Dean can feel the reluctance in the angel’s body as Cas peels him away from Dean, and when Castiel is kneeling on the side of the bed again, leaving nothing between Dean and Cas except for about a foot of empty space, Dean takes a moment to just rake his eyes over the marked up skin of the fallen angel’s body, something deep inside him starting to catch fire as Cas simply stares back at him.
Then, Cas slides in close and slowly manoeuvres Dean down onto his back, a smile curling across his face when Dean doesn’t resist the gentle manhandling. There’s something warm behind his eyes that Dean doesn’t think had been there when Cas had been focused on showing Castiel the good things about being in a human body, and when Cas deliberately lies down full-length against him, the slickness of his cock against Dean’s stomach a filthy drag of precome and promise, Dean can’t quite stop the shudder that vibrates across his skin.
“Cas, I -”
“I want to be inside you,” Cas whispers into his ear, leaning forward to drag his teeth against the sensitive skin. “I’d like to lay you out and fuck you until you can’t remember anything but my name.”
Dean closes his eyes, hating the twisted rush of need and vulnerability that accompanies those words, the images alone enough to make his cock jump against the hot skin of the fallen angel’s stomach. He’s slept with his share of guys, sure - but never with someone who knows him inside and out, and he has an odd feeling that Cas could probably take him apart in ways that Dean isn’t quite sure he could deal with.
“If you want me to, of course.”
There’s hesitation to his voice as Cas pulls back to meet his eyes, a flash of concern in those blue depths, and Dean sucks in a breath as he tries to bite down on his nerves, reminding himself of all the abuse he probably put Cas through in the future.
“Cas, I -”
“And don’t just do this for me.”
“How could you know -”
“I once cradled your soul against my grace, Dean. I know you better than anyone else on this planet. And I certainly don’t need to be an angel to read your mind.”
The reminder of exactly how far Castiel and Dean have come is a surreal conversation to have while Dean can feel the fallen angel’s cock pressed against his stomach, and he swallows hard as he suddenly realizes that he’s nodding his head, the tangle of need inside him blowing hot and hard in the pit of his stomach.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” When Dean looks away at the flash of heat in Cas’ eyes, his gaze lands on where the angel is still kneeling on the side of the bed, watching the two of them with a pink flush to his cheeks. “What about Castiel?”
“Think you can hold out until he’s finished with you?”
All Dean can do is close his eyes and groan, and then Cas is kissing him to within an inch of his life, tangling his fingers into Dean’s short hair and sliding his tongue into his mouth in a way that feels like nothing less than being totally claimed. When Dean helplessly arches up into the contact, Cas deepens the press of his mouth for a few more seconds before he pulls away, sliding down the bed to lie between Dean’s legs, and grasping for something beside the bed. When he drags his jeans onto the bed, and pulls a packet of lube out of the back pocket, the only thing that keeps Dean from laughing is the wave of helpless lust that sweeps across his body.
“You’re fucking kidding me.”
He doesn’t get nearly enough of a snark into the sentence, and Cas just smirks up at him, tearing the packet open with his teeth and smearing some lube across his fingers.
“Kept hoping you’d change your mind about me. Figured it’d be best to be prepared.”
Dean closes his eyes on a disbelieving groan, and then bites down on his lip as he feels large hands spread his legs apart, sending a flash of vulnerability sweeping through him. There’s a sudden rustle of sheets as Castiel climbs onto the bed beside him, the heat of his body pressed up against Dean’s enough to make him fight the urge to squirm closer, and then there’s an angel kissing him with enough enthusiasm to more than make up for his lack of experience. Dean carefully concentrates on those sensations, basking in the feeling of Castiel’s tongue sliding against his own, and he raises his fingers to grip on tight to Castiel’s arms as Cas’ fingers slide from his thighs to the soft skin around his asshole, pressing just lightly against the tight muscle.
“Relax, Dean. I’ve done this with you many times before.”
And for all that Dean feels like he’s about to fly apart, for all that he doesn’t do this with people who will be there when he wakes up, people whom he cannot afford to be this vulnerable around - the reassurance turns out to be true, and Dean finds himself gasping for air into Castiel’s mouth as Cas spends a good ten minutes slowly taking him apart.
He strokes and twists with his fingers, rubbing over Dean’s prostate with unnerving accuracy, somehow knowing exactly when to press harder, when to back off and give Dean a chance to breathe, when to spread his fingers, and when to add more lube. By the time the empty lube packet lands next to his thigh, Dean is harder than he can remember being in a long time, and Castiel is holding him while his body shakes under all the sensations, while Cas stares up at him like he’s somehow managed to find Heaven again.
“Ready?”
Dean can barely manage a nod, and then Cas is reaching up to touch Castiel’s arm. The angel glances at Dean, his mouth parting on an unasked question, and when Dean nods again, Castiel presses a shaky kiss to Dean’s mouth before he slides down the bed and lets Cas nudge him into position between Dean’s thighs, lifting Dean’s legs to wrap them around Castiel’s waist.
“Hang on a sec.”
Cas pulls out another packet of lube, tears it open and then slowly slides his hand along the length of Castiel’s cock, smirking when the angel squeezes his eyes shut and bucks forward into the touch, his teeth caught on his bottom lip as Cas adds a slight twist to his grip.
“There. You’re good. Now go slow.”
The feel of blunt pressure against his entrance has Dean squeezing his eyes shut again, some part of him rebelling against how much he wants this, even from someone for who’s seen him at his worst time and time again, and still wants him anyway - but then Cas is lying beside him, his lips on Dean’s neck and his hand wrapped around Dean’s cock, and Dean hears himself gasp out a groan as Castiel slides forward with a moan so loud it seems to heat up the entire room.
“Damn,” Cas breathes in obvious appreciation, lifting his head to watch, but Dean can barely hear or see him, too busy trying to not arch into Castiel for more, his body already aching to take more of the angel’s cock than is probably wise. Castiel is shaking on top of him, actually shaking, his eyes blown wide and his mouth hanging open, and when Dean feels him pull back a bit before pushing forward again, it’s all he can do to grit his teeth and just hold on.
Finally, after a minute that feels like an eternity, Castiel is all the way inside, and he lies down across Dean’s body with something that sounds like a whimper, his hands scrabbling across Dean’s skin as though he doesn’t quite know what to hold on to. Dean can barely manage to suck in enough oxygen, as the reality of what they’re doing finally hits home, the pleasure-pain stretch of Castiel’s cock proof that the best damn angel in the history of the world is currently laying Dean out and making a place for himself inside Dean’s body.
“Dean.”
It’s nothing more than a low mutter against his shoulder, and then Castiel is pulling back slightly, his head still buried into the safety of Dean’s shoulder, and Dean can feel his body lighting up from the inside out. There’s absolutely no way he could hide from this kind of sensation, and his skin catches fire as he rubs his cock against Castiel’s stomach, distantly remembering how good it felt the first time did this, and unable to imagine what it must be like after thousands of years of feeling nothing.
“It’s okay, Cas,” he manages to mutter, trying to think over the stretch of the angel’s cock inside him, as he raises his fingers to thread them through the angel’s sweaty hair, “You’re okay.”
“Dean,” Castiel breathes again, and then he lifts his head, chokes out another groan as he curls his fingers into an almost painful grip around the mark on Dean’s shoulder, his eyes on fire with something that Dean has never seen before. “This is the closest I’ve felt to you since… since…”
Castiel trails off, perhaps not sure that he should finish that thought, but the mention of where they’ve come from - the fact that he literally owes his life to the creature who’s currently buried deep inside him - is somehow some kind of fucked up aphrodisiac, and Dean bucks up towards Castiel with a bitten off groan, heat streaking from the hand on his shoulder and all the way down to his groin.
“I hear ya, Cas. Now please, for the love of everything, fuck me.”
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut with another mutter of Dean’s name, his hips going on instinct as he begins to slowly rock their bodies together, keeping the movements much too calm and gentle, and Dean closes his own eyes as his ass begins to accept the pressure of Castiel’s cock inside him, opening up around the angel like his body never wants Castiel to leave again.
“Come on, Cas.” He can feel his face burning as he bites out the words, but the angel on top of him is barely moving, while Cas’ fingers are doing nothing more than drawing idle patterns against his stomach, and the not-enough sensations are like lighting a match up his spine. “You can go harder than that.”
And maybe, if this were anyone other than Dean’s personal angel of the lord, they would just take Dean at his word and go to town. Castiel, though - because he seems to be physically incapable of not bringing something sentimental into any equation - simply keeps the movements gentle and presses a hard kiss against the slackness of Dean’s mouth.
“I don’t want to hurt you. You’ve been hurt enough.”
The words twist inside him, and when Dean can’t figure out whether to laugh or cry, he settles for biting down hard against Castiel’s lip, loving the hitched gasp and knowing that there’s no way he could ever do any kind of permanent damage.
“Heart-to-heart later, Cas. Right now, I just need you to fuck me.”
His skin burns even hotter as he gets out the words, some mixture of shame and desperate need lighting him up from his chest to the ache of his cock, but it has the desired effect of getting Castiel to abandon that particular conversation, and when the angel nods and gradually begins to increase the strength of his movements, it’s one of the best things Dean has felt in years - possibly in his entire life. Castiel’s fingers and lips never cease their travel across Dean’s body as his cock scrapes across Dean’s prostate often enough to leave Dean groaning, and by the time Castiel is coming, shaking against Dean and pressing hard kisses against the skin of his neck, Dean is grinding his teeth together and biting down on Castiel’s mouth against his own, desperately trying to not follow the angel over the edge.
“Alright, sweetheart. My turn.”
His face tucked into the skin of Dean’s neck and his breath coming in ragged gasps, the angel barely seems to register the sound of Cas’ shaky voice. Loving the feel of a heavy body spread out on top of his, Dean mercilessly bites down on the urge to cling to Castiel with everything he has, curling his fingers into the blankets underneath his body as Cas leans across Dean’s body to brush a kiss against Castiel’s cheek, sliding his fingers across the sweaty skin of his shoulders. When the angel finally manages to raise his eyes, his cheeks flushed red and his lips bitten almost bloody, the two versions of Castiel stare at each other for a long moment, and Dean closes his eyes as he realizes that they’re having a bonding moment over how it feels to fuck Dean Winchester.
It’s embarrassing as all hell, but at the same time, Dean can’t but feel taken care of.
When Castiel’s cock finally slides free of his body, Dean can’t quite muffle a hiss, but even the slight bite of pain is almost welcome - proof that what just happened has actually happened, and that he’s going to be feel this for at least a couple of days. Thankfully, before Dean can analyse that particular desire too far, Cas is pulling a condom out of his jeans, sliding it on and smearing a mess of lube across his cock, and then he’s sliding in between Dean’s thighs, unceremoniously hauling his knees over his shoulders and leaving Dean biting down against a brand new surge of embarrassed need.
“Still good with this?”
The concern in Cas’ voice is enough to make Dean bite back any of his concerns, and his face must be saying what his words can’t, because something in Cas’ expression seems to crack as he leans down to kiss him, dragging their mouths together as he slides himself inside Dean’s already stretched hole, his cock sinking easily through the slick mess left behind by Castiel. The stretch leaves Dean squirming against the bed sheets, his own cock sliding messily against Cas’ stomach as the fallen angel slowly bottoms out, and when he feels Cas biting curses into his skin, it’s enough to make Dean rock up hard against the fallen angel.
“Come on, man. You keep going on about how well you know my body, so why don’t you -”
“No bravado, Dean. I’ve waited too long to have you like this again.”
The words alone are enough to twist something inside Dean’s chest, and then he loses all the breath in his lungs as Cas slides backwards and then pushes forward again, his cock scraping across Dean’s prostate on the very first try, sending a shower of fireworks and pleasure across Dean’s vision. Dean can’t quite muffle a cry, his body already sensitive from the mess Castiel had made of him, and though he’s dimly aware of the angel lying beside him, pressing kisses against the skin of his shoulder, all he can truly concentrate on is the feeling of Cas beginning to completely take him apart, as the fallen angel begins to rock into him with a rhythm that feels like it’s been pulled out of every fantasy Dean has ever had.
“You - shit, Dean - still alright?”
Dean would laugh if he wasn’t too busy moaning himself hoarse, and when lust sparks even higher in his veins at the audible tension in Cas’ voice, all he can do is slam their mouths together and give up on dignity, the heat inside him spiralling higher and higher with every move Cas makes. It doesn’t take long for them slide into just breathing into each other’s mouths, all finesse gone as the fallen angel begins to pant harshly and bite down against Dean’s lips, until Cas suddenly tightens his grip on Dean’s body and rasps out ragged words against his mouth.
“Never letting you go again. Dean, I - mine. Never letting you go - you’re mine, even if I have to share you, you’re still mine -”
Dean trips over the precipice into his orgasm with a hoarse shout, the sudden wave of pleasure sending a sheet of white noise across his vision, every inch of his body snapping with tension and unraveling with bliss at the same time, as Cas’ words resonate in his ears and his fingers never let up on their tight grip against Dean’s shoulder. He’s dimly aware of the fallen angel trembling against him, gasping for air and muttering Dean’s name over and over again as his orgasm leaves him shaking, and all Dean can do is to hold on and weakly bury his face into the safety of Cas’ neck, gasping for breath as he slowly begins to come back down.
There’s silence for a long moment, until Cas murmurs his name again and presses a shaky kiss against his slack mouth, slowly pulling out of his body and then lying down on the bed beside Dean, slinging a possessive arm across his chest without saying a single word. Dean swallows around the stupid swell of emotion in his throat, and then closes his eyes and reaches out to tug Castiel against his body, feeling safe and content for the first time in longer than he cares to imagine, with Cas curled up on one side of him, and Castiel on the other side.
- - -
Part Seven