The Butterfly Effect [3/3]
THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT;
PART THREE
Author/Artist: devilsduplicity
Recipient: imisspadfoot21
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas/future!Dean/future!Cas (and every variation thereof), Prophet!Chuck (if but briefly).
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for 5x04. Angst, slash, dub-con, bittersweet endings.
Notes/Prompt: There were so many amazing prompts, but I only had the time to do one of them properly. Mainly because I'm a word-whore and I get carried away. >> Prompt was, 5x04 fic...kind of. Present!Cas somehow gets sent into the future with Dean. Future!Cas shows present!Dean how his relationship with present!Cas will end up. Future!Dean and present!Cas watch...or participate. Would love some present!Cas/future!Cas with future!Cas not being gentle. I didn't entirely stay true to all of it, but I hope you like it all the same!
Word Count: 21,000~
Summary: Castiel is sent to the future with Dean. Chaos ensues.
Many thanks to painted_pain for beta'ing the first few parts of this story, and of course sin_unforgiven for listening to me babble about my woes and cheering me on through the whole process.
"Looks like you got your orgy, Cas," he said, voice grating against his own ears.
Cas was staring at Dean like he was the most interesting thing in the entire world, and really, it wasn't like Dean wasn't used to the attention, but something about the way this Cas stared at him was unnerving. It was borderline hungry, and it made Dean shiver from spine to shoulder. He couldn't shake the nervousness, the itchy sense that he was trotting through Camp Chitaqua towing around something treacherous; as if the thin wrist gripped between his insistent fingers was attached to the predator, and he was the prey.
He didn't like thinking those kinds of things, though, so instead he opted to completely ignore his gut instinct -- to quell the part of him that was screaming at him to fling Cas to the ground and make a run for it -- and drug the other man past the protective border of the camp, beyond the cabins, off the dirt road, and into the empty forest. Silence greeted them, quiet and serene, and really the whole setting was just way too peaceful for the kind of conduct Dean intended, but it was private, and he didn't want anyone else listening in on his crazy.
On his apology.
Dean didn't do that kind of thing often -- apologize. He was hard-headed and head-strong. 'Sorry' just wasn't in his vocabulary. But every once in a while he found the strength, found the will, to re-learn the word and spit it out onto the dirt like a filthy curse.
Sometimes he actually sounded genuine. But that only happened on one of his off days.
"Look," he began, finally releasing the other's wrist, but jerked to a halt when Cas flicked his fingers up and gripped the edge of Dean's sleeve. Dean stared at the offending appendage, at the point where he and Cas were connected, then dragged his gaze from the thin button-up blue of Castiel's shirt to the hazy, somewhat desperate eyes sticking to his body like tar.
"You're staying, right?" Cas licked his upper lip, cleared his suddenly dry throat.
"What?" Dean asked, and couldn't find the will within him to shake off the other's hold.
"You're staying tonight. You can't just leave." And now it sounded like a statement, a demand, all hint of a question leaving Cas' tone of voice.
"Well--" Dean hesitated, taken aback by the neediness he saw bubbling within the man latched onto his jacket sleeve. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean. It's not like I've got anywhere else to go."
Castiel visibly relaxed, let out a shuddering sigh before tugging on Dean's jacket and using his grip to propel him forward, nose-to-nose with Dean, invading his personal space in a manner more thorough, more intimate than Dean was used to.
"Uh," Dean said nervously, clearing his throat and leaning back. His feet were rooted to the spot, incapable of movement.
"Then you're staying with me, right?"
Pushy, insistent. This version of Castiel was not above demanding the presence of something he wanted. He was not above force.
Dean's entire body seemed to jolt at the implication of those words, and last night, when he'd inadvertently become an unwilling voyeur, came careening back into his skull with the force of a freight train. He couldn't not see Cas, now, on his knees, eyes wide and mischievous, hands sliding around the front of his pants with practiced alacrity.
He swallowed thickly at the vision, shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
Nope. No siree. Dean Winchester did not just imagine his angel buddy on his knees in front of him, sucking his dick like the world was gonna end tomorrow. Absolutely not.
In this time, though, the world very well could end tomorrow. So... yeah. When he thought about it -- and, hell, he'd had plenty of time to think about it -- he could... maybe... sort of see why everything had led to this; to that particular point in his and Cas' relationship. Platonic slid into familial slid into carnal. It wasn't a difficult formula to follow. But it still left his head spinning, kept him reeling for an answer he was really much too afraid to ask.
Why?
Of course he knew how, but the 'why' was completely different. The 'why' threw a blanket over his nerves and smoothed out the jittery results of future-Cas standing so close to him. The 'why' left him curious and unrestrained. The 'why' was a pretty fucking dangerous thing to think, let alone ask.
The 'why' was currently breathing in his own air, living in his own personal space, every line synced up perfectly, every muscle poised to press forward, but still refrained, still considerate. Still nervous.
"You're staying with me." And there Cas went again, turning his questions into statements. It unnerved Dean how easy it was to let the man get away with something like that. If he just stood back and held his breath, he could let nature take its course, and allow the madness to unfurl beneath him.
But that wasn't the Winchester way, and aside from all of that, Dean had brought Cas out there for a reason.
"What? Not even gonna offer to buy me a drink?"
The sarcasm came easily -- rolled off of his tongue in a simplistic, instinctual manner.
Dean was somewhat stunned by how taken aback he was at Castiel's wide, unassuming grin. It wasn't drugged up, or doused in liquor, and for half a moment, for one quick second, Dean could have sworn he saw it reach the other guy's eyes before it fizzled out into nonexistence.
"You didn't buy me a drink on our first date."
If Dean had been drinking something, he would have done a spittake.
"Uh," Dean said quietly, lifting up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Sorry?"
Cas tilted his head back, bared his teeth to the sky, and let out a long, solid laugh. It still surprised Dean to no end to see the other guy release his emotions in such vivid, revealing manners.
"That's okay," he said, his features settling into their normal, mellow look. "You can make it up to me."
At first, Dean thought he'd tripped. Gravity pulled him forward so suddenly, he couldn't help but stumble, and it was only a natural, unfortunate coincidence that he'd went and caught himself on Cas' lips. When his brain finally caught up with him, however, it became all too apparent that the ex-angel had pulled him forward almost violently, smashing their lips together in a vengeful embrace.
Cas was maleficent. He pushed insistently against Dean's mouth with his tongue, used his teeth, the scratch of stubble, the confusion of the moment to throw the other man off and overwhelm him with a flurry of movement. When Dean's lips remained clamped stubbornly shut, Cas growled low into the one-sided kiss, snaked his other hand up, then gripped the other's hair and jerked his head back abruptly. He was all force and frenzied motion, scraping the edge of his blunt canines down the newly bared throat, sucking on the jittering pulse that went crashing, beating, beneath thin skin.
"Cas," Dean said desperately, his hands rising up to claw at the other man's back. "Stop."
Castiel was on him in a second, his mouth sealed tight around Dean's own, but this time Dean's lips had been parted, his chest taking in ragged breaths, and Cas was given the opportunity to stick his tongue down the hunter's throat.
Dean grappled for some kind of purchase, but his senses were flickering in and out of each other, and he felt like he was drowning. Cas stole his air, sucked it right out of his mouth, then demanded more, pressed closer, grinding their bodies together as if trying to dive into Dean's bones and wear his skin.
When Dean was just about one-hundred percent sure he was going to die from asphyxiation, Cas finally broke contact.
"Stop," Dean managed to croak out again before those dry, unforgiving lips were pressed once more to his own.
Cas drank from Dean like he was a starving man dying in the desert. His hands clung tightly to the hunter, one at his arm, the other buried deep in his hair, and his body practically wallowed in the other's presence. One leg slid up, hooked around Dean's hip, dragged him closer to his insistent frame. Dean started to really struggle, then, his eyes wide and frantic and his body quaking from nerves. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
His struggles were to no avail. Cas clung tighter with every messy jerk, and at one point moaned lasciviously into Dean's mouth when their groins collided and their arousal was made known.
Their arousal. Cas wasn't ignorant to the press of taut fabric against the front of his jeans. Neither was Dean.
Cas pulled back, regarded Dean for a moment, then smirked.
Dean shook his head, halfheartedly tried to pull away, but the other man's fingers were clasped too tightly around his arms.
"Uh," Dean said. "This isn't what it looks like."
"Uh-huh."
Dean was frantic. His eyes darted left, then right. They were surrounded by trees, isolated from the rest of the camp.
"Let me go," he said.
"You could go if you wanted to go," Cas retorted.
Cas wasn't a lightweight, but Dean was stronger.
Dean was about to pull back, but he waited a moment too long, and something in Cas' demeanor shifted. His dull blue eyes sharpened, brightened, and with a resounding whoosh of air, Dean was slammed forcefully against a tree.
The rough scratch of bark dug into the hunter's back, making him feel itchy and uncomfortable. Dean's eyes were wide, staring at the man in front of him, trying to understand what was happening; trying to understand the warm slide of rough palms along his sides, the brush of searching fingers tapping atop the waistband of his pants, the way Cas lowered until he was kneeling in front of Dean.
When the pants started to come off, Dean jolted.
"Cas, stop. I don't want this!"
The hands paused but didn't move.
"No," Cas said, then glanced up. "But you need it."
~*~*~*~
When Dean woke up, he was in bed with Cas.
And Castiel.
And dick-Dean.
His mind instantly tried to reconcile the jump in time.
Flashes of what could best be described as something blatantly pornographic kept flitting before his eyes. The brush of a tongue. The soothing caress of enveloping heat. His fingernails digging into the rough edges of a tree. Contraction and release. The fold of a smaller body holding him upright, tugging on him, goading him to follow. They'd collapsed into a giant bed the next moment, and Dean only held vague recollections of a blurry conversation before he'd been shuffled closer to Cas and something warm and comfortable had been pressed tight against his back.
He was still trying to blink back sleep in the here and now when the sound of familiar voices rose above him.
"Frotting?" came the rumble of a chest right beside him, followed by a quick chuckle. "We got as far as a blowjob."
There was a grumble, and then the entire bed shifted.
"Don't be jealous," said the voice Dean now recognized as future-Cas. "I'll make it up to you."
It was stupidly reflexive, but he couldn't help it.
Dean curled his legs, gripped the front of Cas' shirt between searching fingers, and buried his head against the other's chest.
No, he thought as loudly as he could. Mine.
The arm that slid around his waist was both comfortable and thrilling.
Problem was, it came from behind.
When Dean blinked open his bleary eyes, he glanced behind him to find Castiel -- the angelic one -- staring at him in that weirdly familiar way.
That was also about the time that he noticed they were both bare-assed naked, while their future selves were still almost fully clothed.
Dean groaned, shuddering at the warmth that surrounded him from both sides. It was way too much, way too fast. He didn't know how to react to it, so he figured it would go away if he just fell asleep again.
Which turned out to be a difficult thing to do when Castiel's dick was pressed against his backside.
Dean swallowed thickly, clenched his eyes more tightly shut, then shook his head.
He couldn't believe this. He couldn't fucking believe this.
"Looks like you got your orgy, Cas," he said, voice grating against his own ears.
"I usually do," came the humorous reply.
Castiel, the one behind Dean, moved back. Or, well, he tried, but he was blocked in by another body. The steady warmth of future-Dean was enveloping the angel from behind. The scratch of worn fabric pressed along Castiel's body, a rough hand splayed heavily across his chest.
Castiel could break away without a second thought, but that would leave Dean vulnerable and exposed to both of their future selves.
And besides, Castiel… didn't really want to move.
Dean was warm against his body. He wasn't soft, and he didn't curve or dip, but the lines of his body were familiar. Every bone, every vein, every single insignificant blood cell, everything about Dean right down to his atoms was familiar to Castiel.
Castiel had put him back together. He'd felt the chill of Dean's cold bones gripped tight between his fingers; had pressed and pulled and manipulated them until they heated up. Until the flesh re-grew and that most important spark of life had flared back into existence.
Castiel knew Dean, and Castiel, at that moment, was compelled to touch Dean. To know him a little bit more.
There was only silent encouragement from the future version of Dean laying beside Castiel. The angel reached out, ran a hand along his Dean's back, felt the shudder of surprise and the pull of arousal. He did it again just to feel it again, gluttonous in his need for something more.
"Cas," Dean mumbled, talking to the one from his time.
"Yeah?" the future one replied.
"Dick," said future-Dean, giving Cas a look.
"You're one to talk," laughed Cas, then something wicked flit across his features.
Before anyone on the bed could make another move, Cas reached forward towards his past self and wrapped a possessive hand around the angel's shoulder.
"Hey," he said, tugging. "C'mere."
Castiel looked up, blinked slowly, then glanced at past-Dean.
Cas glanced down as well, locking gazes with a bleary-eyed past version of the Dean he was used to.
"Do you mind?"
Dean looked up at him, confused.
Sighing, future-Cas slung his leg around past-Dean's body and straddled him, bending down to take his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Dean struggled for a moment -- force of habit -- but relaxed after a moment more, arching into the kiss and showing, perhaps unwillingly, how very much he liked the taste of Cas. The hint of stale booze and the bite of recreational drugs. That heady scent of incense that seemed to permeate the other man; the bony fingers that slid along his forehead and brushed back his hair.
The kiss ended slowly, the last fading edges of it seeping from between their combined lips like a memory. Dean smiled up at the man straddling him. Cas grinned down at him, leaned in, nipped the very tip of Dean's nose, then turned his attention to the left; turned the full brunt of his hazy gaze on past-Cas.
"Your turn," he said, then leaned in with very little warning and enveloped Castiel's lips with his own.
Both Deans looked at each other.
"Way to be a narcissist," past-Dean said. He shifted around, still acutely aware of the body holding him down to the bed.
Cas was too busy molesting Castiel's mouth to answer.
"Looks like they don't even need us," future-Dean said, his voice turning wry.
Past-Dean took that moment to point out the fact that he was naked.
"Why are you guys still dressed?" he asked, eyes still trained to the past-Cas/future-Cas action going on right in front of him.
"Because you guys are easy?" shot back his future-self.
Dean was trapped beneath the body of an unforgiving version of the Castiel he was used to. He figured then was as good a time as any to sit back and reflect on how the hell he'd wrangled himself into a situation like that. He was laying naked on a bed with three other men, one of which was himself, and he was still way too groggy to piece together the reasons why he wasn't shoving Cas off of him and making a beeline for the door.
He figured the only reason his limbs remained patiently inert was the very simple fact that he was way too damned comfortable to be bothered to move.
Comfortable, as it were, playing submissive to the weight of another man straddling his waist and rubbing against him in ways Dean had never dared imagine.
Cas had shown him something last night. He remembered that much. Every memory was but a foggy recognition in his brain, but the sensations were still there, and the truth behind those carnal feelings were up and ready to smack him in the face with the brunt of it all.
Cas was kissing Castiel, and Dean found that really, really sexy.
The future would make a voyeur out of him yet.
~*~*~*~
Castiel woke up sandwiched between two warm Deans.
But that wasn't the important part.
The important part was that Castiel woke up.
Which was an amazing feat, considering that angels didn't ever go to sleep, so far as he knew.
He blinked back the odd sensation, and felt an acute laziness in his bones that he couldn't quite shake. He stayed still for a moment, laying there, listening to the sound of the others breathing until the simple rhythm was broken by a quick chuckle from behind.
"You should stretch," said a voice that sounded like Dean, except gruffer, darker. The sadness from before was still there -- Castiel had the sneaking suspicion that it was always there -- but it was being held at bay. An overarching lightness tinged the tone, and a rough hand rose up to rest protectively along his side.
His bare side.
"Stretch," said the other Dean again, and Castiel did as told, forcing limbs that were not his to pull upward, moving his legs downward, allowing his spine to straighten, then relax.
"Feels nice, huh?"
Castiel nodded, then looked to his left and straight into the face of a sleeping Dean.
Also naked.
Castiel wasn't used to feeling human emotions, but something spiked in him then that was absolutely, one-hundred percent undeniable.
He pushed back against the body behind him while reaching out in the same instant. His fingertips made contact, and then he pulled back.
"How?" he said, looking behind him.
Future-Dean shrugged.
"Does it really matter?"
~*~*~*~
In the end, it turned out that it didn't.
Dean learned a thing or two about Castiel. He learned where each erogenous zone on his body was, and how to exploit them. He learned that the angel's breath hitched when he touched him just so, and that Castiel had a habit of staring at him when a normal person would have closed their eyes at the build-up of pleasure. He found out that Castiel like the push of pressure, that he felt it more when it was hard, and that there really wasn't any need to be gentle.
Dean learned a thing or two about himself, too. He learned that he really liked it when Castiel dropped his stoicism and allowed that slow, lazy smile to spread across his face. He learned that the angel was perfectly attuned with his own sense of pleasure, and that if Dean thought it loud enough, Castiel would hear it. He found out that he didn't really mind laying beside Castiel, that he enjoyed laying beneath him, and that even if he couldn't see anything different, Dean could certainly feel the distinctly inhuman parts that made up the angel's being.
Cas learned some things, too, by watching his past self see and experience for the first time that sudden, raging spark of desire. He saw the newness of it, the hope both of them still had.
When he looked up and locked eyes with his own Dean, the "future" one, he saw that Dean saw it, too.
No, it didn't really matter how they'd gotten there. And it didn't really matter how long they'd be there.
All that mattered was that they were there.
~*~*~*~
Chuck had the headache to end all headaches.
And his mind was overrun with porn.
Gay porn.
He would have to have a word with Dean after they finally, ahem, settled down. It was annoying how the hunter sometimes forgot that Chuck was a Prophet, and could therefore see everything the fearless leader did.
Everything.
And here he'd thought killing Yeager was the height of his woes.
He'd had to do that, though, otherwise Dean and Cas wouldn't have bothered to try to mend their relationship that last little bit. Everything was a catalyst to everything else. The flap of a butterfly's wing created a tsunami, the first tip of the dominos started a chain reaction, yadda-yadda-yadda.
Point was, he was going to need some heavy liquor very soon if the boys in his visions didn't slow down.
Seemed Cas had gotten his orgy after all.
~*~*~*~
THE END
~*~*~*~
PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE
PART THREE
Author/Artist: devilsduplicity
Recipient: imisspadfoot21
Characters/Pairings: Dean/Cas/future!Dean/future!Cas (and every variation thereof), Prophet!Chuck (if but briefly).
Rating: R
Warnings/Spoilers: Spoilers for 5x04. Angst, slash, dub-con, bittersweet endings.
Notes/Prompt: There were so many amazing prompts, but I only had the time to do one of them properly. Mainly because I'm a word-whore and I get carried away. >> Prompt was, 5x04 fic...kind of. Present!Cas somehow gets sent into the future with Dean. Future!Cas shows present!Dean how his relationship with present!Cas will end up. Future!Dean and present!Cas watch...or participate. Would love some present!Cas/future!Cas with future!Cas not being gentle. I didn't entirely stay true to all of it, but I hope you like it all the same!
Word Count: 21,000~
Summary: Castiel is sent to the future with Dean. Chaos ensues.
Many thanks to painted_pain for beta'ing the first few parts of this story, and of course sin_unforgiven for listening to me babble about my woes and cheering me on through the whole process.
"Looks like you got your orgy, Cas," he said, voice grating against his own ears.
Cas was staring at Dean like he was the most interesting thing in the entire world, and really, it wasn't like Dean wasn't used to the attention, but something about the way this Cas stared at him was unnerving. It was borderline hungry, and it made Dean shiver from spine to shoulder. He couldn't shake the nervousness, the itchy sense that he was trotting through Camp Chitaqua towing around something treacherous; as if the thin wrist gripped between his insistent fingers was attached to the predator, and he was the prey.
He didn't like thinking those kinds of things, though, so instead he opted to completely ignore his gut instinct -- to quell the part of him that was screaming at him to fling Cas to the ground and make a run for it -- and drug the other man past the protective border of the camp, beyond the cabins, off the dirt road, and into the empty forest. Silence greeted them, quiet and serene, and really the whole setting was just way too peaceful for the kind of conduct Dean intended, but it was private, and he didn't want anyone else listening in on his crazy.
On his apology.
Dean didn't do that kind of thing often -- apologize. He was hard-headed and head-strong. 'Sorry' just wasn't in his vocabulary. But every once in a while he found the strength, found the will, to re-learn the word and spit it out onto the dirt like a filthy curse.
Sometimes he actually sounded genuine. But that only happened on one of his off days.
"Look," he began, finally releasing the other's wrist, but jerked to a halt when Cas flicked his fingers up and gripped the edge of Dean's sleeve. Dean stared at the offending appendage, at the point where he and Cas were connected, then dragged his gaze from the thin button-up blue of Castiel's shirt to the hazy, somewhat desperate eyes sticking to his body like tar.
"You're staying, right?" Cas licked his upper lip, cleared his suddenly dry throat.
"What?" Dean asked, and couldn't find the will within him to shake off the other's hold.
"You're staying tonight. You can't just leave." And now it sounded like a statement, a demand, all hint of a question leaving Cas' tone of voice.
"Well--" Dean hesitated, taken aback by the neediness he saw bubbling within the man latched onto his jacket sleeve. "Yeah. Yeah, I mean. It's not like I've got anywhere else to go."
Castiel visibly relaxed, let out a shuddering sigh before tugging on Dean's jacket and using his grip to propel him forward, nose-to-nose with Dean, invading his personal space in a manner more thorough, more intimate than Dean was used to.
"Uh," Dean said nervously, clearing his throat and leaning back. His feet were rooted to the spot, incapable of movement.
"Then you're staying with me, right?"
Pushy, insistent. This version of Castiel was not above demanding the presence of something he wanted. He was not above force.
Dean's entire body seemed to jolt at the implication of those words, and last night, when he'd inadvertently become an unwilling voyeur, came careening back into his skull with the force of a freight train. He couldn't not see Cas, now, on his knees, eyes wide and mischievous, hands sliding around the front of his pants with practiced alacrity.
He swallowed thickly at the vision, shook his head to rid himself of the thought.
Nope. No siree. Dean Winchester did not just imagine his angel buddy on his knees in front of him, sucking his dick like the world was gonna end tomorrow. Absolutely not.
In this time, though, the world very well could end tomorrow. So... yeah. When he thought about it -- and, hell, he'd had plenty of time to think about it -- he could... maybe... sort of see why everything had led to this; to that particular point in his and Cas' relationship. Platonic slid into familial slid into carnal. It wasn't a difficult formula to follow. But it still left his head spinning, kept him reeling for an answer he was really much too afraid to ask.
Why?
Of course he knew how, but the 'why' was completely different. The 'why' threw a blanket over his nerves and smoothed out the jittery results of future-Cas standing so close to him. The 'why' left him curious and unrestrained. The 'why' was a pretty fucking dangerous thing to think, let alone ask.
The 'why' was currently breathing in his own air, living in his own personal space, every line synced up perfectly, every muscle poised to press forward, but still refrained, still considerate. Still nervous.
"You're staying with me." And there Cas went again, turning his questions into statements. It unnerved Dean how easy it was to let the man get away with something like that. If he just stood back and held his breath, he could let nature take its course, and allow the madness to unfurl beneath him.
But that wasn't the Winchester way, and aside from all of that, Dean had brought Cas out there for a reason.
"What? Not even gonna offer to buy me a drink?"
The sarcasm came easily -- rolled off of his tongue in a simplistic, instinctual manner.
Dean was somewhat stunned by how taken aback he was at Castiel's wide, unassuming grin. It wasn't drugged up, or doused in liquor, and for half a moment, for one quick second, Dean could have sworn he saw it reach the other guy's eyes before it fizzled out into nonexistence.
"You didn't buy me a drink on our first date."
If Dean had been drinking something, he would have done a spittake.
"Uh," Dean said quietly, lifting up his free hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Sorry?"
Cas tilted his head back, bared his teeth to the sky, and let out a long, solid laugh. It still surprised Dean to no end to see the other guy release his emotions in such vivid, revealing manners.
"That's okay," he said, his features settling into their normal, mellow look. "You can make it up to me."
At first, Dean thought he'd tripped. Gravity pulled him forward so suddenly, he couldn't help but stumble, and it was only a natural, unfortunate coincidence that he'd went and caught himself on Cas' lips. When his brain finally caught up with him, however, it became all too apparent that the ex-angel had pulled him forward almost violently, smashing their lips together in a vengeful embrace.
Cas was maleficent. He pushed insistently against Dean's mouth with his tongue, used his teeth, the scratch of stubble, the confusion of the moment to throw the other man off and overwhelm him with a flurry of movement. When Dean's lips remained clamped stubbornly shut, Cas growled low into the one-sided kiss, snaked his other hand up, then gripped the other's hair and jerked his head back abruptly. He was all force and frenzied motion, scraping the edge of his blunt canines down the newly bared throat, sucking on the jittering pulse that went crashing, beating, beneath thin skin.
"Cas," Dean said desperately, his hands rising up to claw at the other man's back. "Stop."
Castiel was on him in a second, his mouth sealed tight around Dean's own, but this time Dean's lips had been parted, his chest taking in ragged breaths, and Cas was given the opportunity to stick his tongue down the hunter's throat.
Dean grappled for some kind of purchase, but his senses were flickering in and out of each other, and he felt like he was drowning. Cas stole his air, sucked it right out of his mouth, then demanded more, pressed closer, grinding their bodies together as if trying to dive into Dean's bones and wear his skin.
When Dean was just about one-hundred percent sure he was going to die from asphyxiation, Cas finally broke contact.
"Stop," Dean managed to croak out again before those dry, unforgiving lips were pressed once more to his own.
Cas drank from Dean like he was a starving man dying in the desert. His hands clung tightly to the hunter, one at his arm, the other buried deep in his hair, and his body practically wallowed in the other's presence. One leg slid up, hooked around Dean's hip, dragged him closer to his insistent frame. Dean started to really struggle, then, his eyes wide and frantic and his body quaking from nerves. This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be.
His struggles were to no avail. Cas clung tighter with every messy jerk, and at one point moaned lasciviously into Dean's mouth when their groins collided and their arousal was made known.
Their arousal. Cas wasn't ignorant to the press of taut fabric against the front of his jeans. Neither was Dean.
Cas pulled back, regarded Dean for a moment, then smirked.
Dean shook his head, halfheartedly tried to pull away, but the other man's fingers were clasped too tightly around his arms.
"Uh," Dean said. "This isn't what it looks like."
"Uh-huh."
Dean was frantic. His eyes darted left, then right. They were surrounded by trees, isolated from the rest of the camp.
"Let me go," he said.
"You could go if you wanted to go," Cas retorted.
Cas wasn't a lightweight, but Dean was stronger.
Dean was about to pull back, but he waited a moment too long, and something in Cas' demeanor shifted. His dull blue eyes sharpened, brightened, and with a resounding whoosh of air, Dean was slammed forcefully against a tree.
The rough scratch of bark dug into the hunter's back, making him feel itchy and uncomfortable. Dean's eyes were wide, staring at the man in front of him, trying to understand what was happening; trying to understand the warm slide of rough palms along his sides, the brush of searching fingers tapping atop the waistband of his pants, the way Cas lowered until he was kneeling in front of Dean.
When the pants started to come off, Dean jolted.
"Cas, stop. I don't want this!"
The hands paused but didn't move.
"No," Cas said, then glanced up. "But you need it."
~*~*~*~
When Dean woke up, he was in bed with Cas.
And Castiel.
And dick-Dean.
His mind instantly tried to reconcile the jump in time.
Flashes of what could best be described as something blatantly pornographic kept flitting before his eyes. The brush of a tongue. The soothing caress of enveloping heat. His fingernails digging into the rough edges of a tree. Contraction and release. The fold of a smaller body holding him upright, tugging on him, goading him to follow. They'd collapsed into a giant bed the next moment, and Dean only held vague recollections of a blurry conversation before he'd been shuffled closer to Cas and something warm and comfortable had been pressed tight against his back.
He was still trying to blink back sleep in the here and now when the sound of familiar voices rose above him.
"Frotting?" came the rumble of a chest right beside him, followed by a quick chuckle. "We got as far as a blowjob."
There was a grumble, and then the entire bed shifted.
"Don't be jealous," said the voice Dean now recognized as future-Cas. "I'll make it up to you."
It was stupidly reflexive, but he couldn't help it.
Dean curled his legs, gripped the front of Cas' shirt between searching fingers, and buried his head against the other's chest.
No, he thought as loudly as he could. Mine.
The arm that slid around his waist was both comfortable and thrilling.
Problem was, it came from behind.
When Dean blinked open his bleary eyes, he glanced behind him to find Castiel -- the angelic one -- staring at him in that weirdly familiar way.
That was also about the time that he noticed they were both bare-assed naked, while their future selves were still almost fully clothed.
Dean groaned, shuddering at the warmth that surrounded him from both sides. It was way too much, way too fast. He didn't know how to react to it, so he figured it would go away if he just fell asleep again.
Which turned out to be a difficult thing to do when Castiel's dick was pressed against his backside.
Dean swallowed thickly, clenched his eyes more tightly shut, then shook his head.
He couldn't believe this. He couldn't fucking believe this.
"Looks like you got your orgy, Cas," he said, voice grating against his own ears.
"I usually do," came the humorous reply.
Castiel, the one behind Dean, moved back. Or, well, he tried, but he was blocked in by another body. The steady warmth of future-Dean was enveloping the angel from behind. The scratch of worn fabric pressed along Castiel's body, a rough hand splayed heavily across his chest.
Castiel could break away without a second thought, but that would leave Dean vulnerable and exposed to both of their future selves.
And besides, Castiel… didn't really want to move.
Dean was warm against his body. He wasn't soft, and he didn't curve or dip, but the lines of his body were familiar. Every bone, every vein, every single insignificant blood cell, everything about Dean right down to his atoms was familiar to Castiel.
Castiel had put him back together. He'd felt the chill of Dean's cold bones gripped tight between his fingers; had pressed and pulled and manipulated them until they heated up. Until the flesh re-grew and that most important spark of life had flared back into existence.
Castiel knew Dean, and Castiel, at that moment, was compelled to touch Dean. To know him a little bit more.
There was only silent encouragement from the future version of Dean laying beside Castiel. The angel reached out, ran a hand along his Dean's back, felt the shudder of surprise and the pull of arousal. He did it again just to feel it again, gluttonous in his need for something more.
"Cas," Dean mumbled, talking to the one from his time.
"Yeah?" the future one replied.
"Dick," said future-Dean, giving Cas a look.
"You're one to talk," laughed Cas, then something wicked flit across his features.
Before anyone on the bed could make another move, Cas reached forward towards his past self and wrapped a possessive hand around the angel's shoulder.
"Hey," he said, tugging. "C'mere."
Castiel looked up, blinked slowly, then glanced at past-Dean.
Cas glanced down as well, locking gazes with a bleary-eyed past version of the Dean he was used to.
"Do you mind?"
Dean looked up at him, confused.
Sighing, future-Cas slung his leg around past-Dean's body and straddled him, bending down to take his lips in an open-mouthed kiss. Dean struggled for a moment -- force of habit -- but relaxed after a moment more, arching into the kiss and showing, perhaps unwillingly, how very much he liked the taste of Cas. The hint of stale booze and the bite of recreational drugs. That heady scent of incense that seemed to permeate the other man; the bony fingers that slid along his forehead and brushed back his hair.
The kiss ended slowly, the last fading edges of it seeping from between their combined lips like a memory. Dean smiled up at the man straddling him. Cas grinned down at him, leaned in, nipped the very tip of Dean's nose, then turned his attention to the left; turned the full brunt of his hazy gaze on past-Cas.
"Your turn," he said, then leaned in with very little warning and enveloped Castiel's lips with his own.
Both Deans looked at each other.
"Way to be a narcissist," past-Dean said. He shifted around, still acutely aware of the body holding him down to the bed.
Cas was too busy molesting Castiel's mouth to answer.
"Looks like they don't even need us," future-Dean said, his voice turning wry.
Past-Dean took that moment to point out the fact that he was naked.
"Why are you guys still dressed?" he asked, eyes still trained to the past-Cas/future-Cas action going on right in front of him.
"Because you guys are easy?" shot back his future-self.
Dean was trapped beneath the body of an unforgiving version of the Castiel he was used to. He figured then was as good a time as any to sit back and reflect on how the hell he'd wrangled himself into a situation like that. He was laying naked on a bed with three other men, one of which was himself, and he was still way too groggy to piece together the reasons why he wasn't shoving Cas off of him and making a beeline for the door.
He figured the only reason his limbs remained patiently inert was the very simple fact that he was way too damned comfortable to be bothered to move.
Comfortable, as it were, playing submissive to the weight of another man straddling his waist and rubbing against him in ways Dean had never dared imagine.
Cas had shown him something last night. He remembered that much. Every memory was but a foggy recognition in his brain, but the sensations were still there, and the truth behind those carnal feelings were up and ready to smack him in the face with the brunt of it all.
Cas was kissing Castiel, and Dean found that really, really sexy.
The future would make a voyeur out of him yet.
~*~*~*~
Castiel woke up sandwiched between two warm Deans.
But that wasn't the important part.
The important part was that Castiel woke up.
Which was an amazing feat, considering that angels didn't ever go to sleep, so far as he knew.
He blinked back the odd sensation, and felt an acute laziness in his bones that he couldn't quite shake. He stayed still for a moment, laying there, listening to the sound of the others breathing until the simple rhythm was broken by a quick chuckle from behind.
"You should stretch," said a voice that sounded like Dean, except gruffer, darker. The sadness from before was still there -- Castiel had the sneaking suspicion that it was always there -- but it was being held at bay. An overarching lightness tinged the tone, and a rough hand rose up to rest protectively along his side.
His bare side.
"Stretch," said the other Dean again, and Castiel did as told, forcing limbs that were not his to pull upward, moving his legs downward, allowing his spine to straighten, then relax.
"Feels nice, huh?"
Castiel nodded, then looked to his left and straight into the face of a sleeping Dean.
Also naked.
Castiel wasn't used to feeling human emotions, but something spiked in him then that was absolutely, one-hundred percent undeniable.
He pushed back against the body behind him while reaching out in the same instant. His fingertips made contact, and then he pulled back.
"How?" he said, looking behind him.
Future-Dean shrugged.
"Does it really matter?"
~*~*~*~
In the end, it turned out that it didn't.
Dean learned a thing or two about Castiel. He learned where each erogenous zone on his body was, and how to exploit them. He learned that the angel's breath hitched when he touched him just so, and that Castiel had a habit of staring at him when a normal person would have closed their eyes at the build-up of pleasure. He found out that Castiel like the push of pressure, that he felt it more when it was hard, and that there really wasn't any need to be gentle.
Dean learned a thing or two about himself, too. He learned that he really liked it when Castiel dropped his stoicism and allowed that slow, lazy smile to spread across his face. He learned that the angel was perfectly attuned with his own sense of pleasure, and that if Dean thought it loud enough, Castiel would hear it. He found out that he didn't really mind laying beside Castiel, that he enjoyed laying beneath him, and that even if he couldn't see anything different, Dean could certainly feel the distinctly inhuman parts that made up the angel's being.
Cas learned some things, too, by watching his past self see and experience for the first time that sudden, raging spark of desire. He saw the newness of it, the hope both of them still had.
When he looked up and locked eyes with his own Dean, the "future" one, he saw that Dean saw it, too.
No, it didn't really matter how they'd gotten there. And it didn't really matter how long they'd be there.
All that mattered was that they were there.
~*~*~*~
Chuck had the headache to end all headaches.
And his mind was overrun with porn.
Gay porn.
He would have to have a word with Dean after they finally, ahem, settled down. It was annoying how the hunter sometimes forgot that Chuck was a Prophet, and could therefore see everything the fearless leader did.
Everything.
And here he'd thought killing Yeager was the height of his woes.
He'd had to do that, though, otherwise Dean and Cas wouldn't have bothered to try to mend their relationship that last little bit. Everything was a catalyst to everything else. The flap of a butterfly's wing created a tsunami, the first tip of the dominos started a chain reaction, yadda-yadda-yadda.
Point was, he was going to need some heavy liquor very soon if the boys in his visions didn't slow down.
Seemed Cas had gotten his orgy after all.
~*~*~*~
THE END
~*~*~*~
PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE