Contrapasso Part 2
Title: Contrapasso
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
2.
Without a car or a highway or anything like normal, Dean was forced to check into an actual hotel in town, with multiple floors and an elevator and room service and a concierge and all other kinds of crap Dean neither needed nor trusted. It made Dean's skin crawl. But then, the whole fucking town made Dean's skin crawl.
The receptionist had given the three of them one of the sourest looks Dean had ever seen, and told them this was a family establishment and to keep the noise down after ten. Like they were going to go straight to their room and have a big gay orgy or something. Cas's polite nod and serious, "We will be mindful of the noise," really hadn't helped.
Dean had forgotten how literally the damn angel took everything; he'd been close to gagging Cas when they'd had to give their statements to the local police after Phil the Crazy Guy had passed out. Or, more accurately, been made to pass out by Cas. Lucky for them everyone in the whole town seemed oblivious to Cas's attempts to tell them he had sent the man to sleep for his own safety. It was weird, but Dean had a feeling the locals almost couldn't see Cas. Like he was only half there.
They never asked him direct questions, and never looked him in the eye. Dean knew Sam had noticed it too because his brother made a concerted effort to direct questions to Cas, including Cas in his conversations, trying to gauge the local's reactions. Now that Dean thought about it, their waitress had been the same. She'd taken Dean and Sam's orders, and looked kind of confused when Dean ordered a third coffee. Cas didn't seem concerned, and shook his head dismissively when Dean had asked him about his apparent invisibility and told him, "It's not a major concern." Which Dean took as Cas-speak for not having a clue what was going on.
Just as the sky was turning grey with heavy clouds, the unconscious body of Phil was carted off to the station and Sam and Dean and Cas, and the rest of the customers, were finally released from the diner. It was late afternoon and the wind had picked up. They looked set for rain and Dean worried about the Impala, left alone and abandoned on the outskirts of town. He really hoped those damn hellhounds wouldn't see her as a threat. Dean couldn't bring himself to follow that thought through any further.
Finding a hotel hadn't been easy. The townsfolk weren't particularly friendly or helpful, and finding something within their limited price-range, within walking distance had been a nightmare. It was dark and getting to cold by the time they found a room.
Three floors up and at the end of a narrow, windowless hallway, the room had three beds, because the receptionist hadn't seemed inclined to give them anything else, and barely enough room to move around between them. There was a desk, old and solidly made, with a chair that creaked when Cas sat down on it. The wallpaper was a plain, functional white and green. Dean thought the decorators had maybe been thinking the colour scheme would be calming or something, but it had just ended up looking kind of clinical and ugly. The room, like the town, was spotless and tidy, and Dean couldn't see any patches of dry rot or a single water stain anywhere. The brownish green carpet was impeccably clean, and it made Dean want to spill coffee and gun oil all over it.
They had a corner room with windows on two walls and Dean could hear the glass rattling in its old frames. When Dean looked out, he could see the main street below, diffused light from the shop fronts illuminating the road. It was almost empty of people now that the rain was starting to fall and it had gotten to dark.
Dean pulled the curtains closed tightly and turned back to the room to see Sam switching on the reading lamps, pulling out his computer and booting it up. His brother pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed in front of the laptop. The bed sagged and creaked loudly as Sam shifted.
"You think this place has Internet?" Dean asked. Places that didn't actually exist weren't likely to have good communications. His phone hadn't had a signal all day.
Sam shrugged. "Won't hurt to try. If not, we're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way."
Dean groaned.
"What is the old-fashioned way?" Cas asked. He shifted on the wooden chair like he was uncomfortable, his arms resting stiffly on this legs.
"Libraries," Dean explained, trying to impart his disgust at the prospect. "Books. Records. Handwriting."
"It's slow, but it's all we've got to go on a lot of the time," Sam agreed, sounding resigned.
Cas looked between them curiously. "What is it you hope to find?"
"Something about this town that might help us understand what's going on here. It's how we've always worked with cases like this," Sam explained, eyes fixed on the computer screen.
"Cases like this," Cas repeated. "You've never had a case like this."
Dean sat himself down on the bed closest to Cas. "Crazy town. Crazy people. We've had it before. What else are we supposed to do?"
Sam snorted, but he was nodding emphatically.
"Look for the missing angels," Cas said.
"Not our speciality," Dean said lightly. "More your thing."
Castiel bowed his head, conceding the point, then made to stand up. "You're right. I shall seek them out."
Every instinct told Dean the sensible thing to do was to split up on this. Cas didn't need to sleep. Dean and Sam couldn't transport themselves instantly, or go off flying to wherever Cas could to search out his missing angels. As far as Dean could tell there wasn't any immediate threat from the town, unless you counted the one crazy they'd come across earlier, and Cas still had enough of his angel-juice to defend himself against any humans. Pretty much all a human could do to him was maybe hurt his feelings. If he even still had any of those.
When he'd been falling into humanity Cas had been a whole mess of contradictions between emotion and stubborn stoicism, and Dean'd almost gotten used to that, at the end. He'd accepted that was the way Cas was going to be. Now it was like all that was gone. Cas's face was impassive and Dean was back to finding it almost impossible to read the angel's body language. He'd once thought he'd gotten quite good at it and he felt the not-knowing like a loss.
Dean didn't know if it was just this place, but there had been pain when the wolf-creatures had slashed at him, and sometimes Dean thought that when Cas stared at him there was some fondness there. Like maybe he'd missed Dean. Or maybe that was just Dean's imagination.
He didn't know why, but the thought of Cas leaving made him angry. Unhappy. Something in Dean thought that if Cas left now he wouldn't be coming back. Dean wasn't going to call it panic, but something made him reach out and grab Cas's wrist before the angel bastard had the chance to flit off anywhere.
"You shouldn't leave," Dean said, desperately trying to understand just what the fuck he thought he was doing, and at the same time trying to come up with a good reason for Cas to stay. "We should stick together."
It was lame as hell, but Cas looked up from where he was staring at Dean's fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. It might've been Dean's imagination but he could've sworn Cas smiled, just a small lifting of the corners of his mouth. "I should stay."
Dean held onto Cas's wrist, just watching Cas watch him and Cas didn't seem inclined to move either.
"Err," Sam said hesitantly and Dean realised he'd forgotten that Sam was even there, still sitting on his bed in front of his laptop. "There's no Internet."
Sam shuffled off the mattress, closing the computer and shoving it under his arm, picking up the keys off the bedside table and pulling on his jacket. "I'm going to check downstairs. I'll be back in... a while."
Dean didn't watch his brother leave, just said, "Cool," and heard the door close behind him. It struck Dean that just a second ago Dean had been saying they should all stick together, and now he was letting Sam wander off on his own. But Sam was a big boy, and he'd said he was only going downstairs. Dean was pretty sure even Sam couldn't get into any trouble going down a few flights of stairs.
And Cas was here. Right in front of Dean. Watching.
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, standing awkwardly. "Sit down, Cas," Dean told him, and was kind of stunned when Cas actually obeyed. They were leaning towards each other, Dean noticed. "You healed?" he asked, because even if Cas's clothes were now mostly mended, the way Cas hunched in on himself, and the tightness around his eyes told Dean he was still in some pain.
"For the most part," Cas said dismissively, which was enough of a no for Dean to shake his head and stand up, starting to push the trench coat off Cas's shoulders.
"Let me see," Dean demanded.
"They are healing, Dean," Cas insisted. There was a hint of that earlier irritation in his tone. "There is nothing you can do to assist me."
"Humour me."
Dean waited for a long moment while Cas stared back, still with his hands on Cas's shoulders, before the angel nodded and let Dean strip off the coat, then his jacket, and his shirt.
"I don't understand why you and Sam keep insisting I take my clothes off," Cas sighed, and he sounded so put out that Dean couldn't help but laugh.
"Maybe we're taking advantage," Dean quipped.
"I'm not a fool, Dean," Castiel retorted. "Nor do I believe either of you would, even if you could."
The comment made Dean pause because, okay, it was probably true, but sometimes Dean really wished it wasn't. Like now.
Outside, the rain was coming down heavily now, battering loudly against the windows in the silence of the room. It had really turned into a storm.
Sam was still gone. Cas was here with his chest and his arms and his back exposed and it was the first time Dean could ever remember looking at a man like this. Like maybe he wanted to touch that skin and find out what it tasted like.
Fuck.
This was Cas, and Cas was an angel and this was fucking ridiculous. Something wasn't right here. He wanted something he never had before, or at least, something he'd never allowed himself to believe he could ever have, and Cas was looking back at Dean like he'd give it, if Dean asked.
Shit.
Cas's arms were all cut up still, criss-crossed with sore-looking red lines. Definitely healing but they'd still hurt to touch, so Dean didn't. At least, he thought, he still had that much self-control. There were healing scars along his stomach and chest too, but nothing on his shoulders so Dean put his hands there, feeling warm skin under his fingers instead of cool fabric. Dean had no clue what the hell he was doing. What the hell he was thinking.
Cas's voice was quiet, low and close when he said, "Dean," and reached out towards Dean, gripping Dean's lower arms loosely, pushing himself back up onto his feet so they were face to face. Even closer.
There it was. Welcome. Promise. Acceptance. And it was too much.
"There's something not right here," Dean said, and it hurt to say it because there wasn't. There was nothing wrong with this. This was what Dean wanted. This was why Dean was so pissed at Cas for leaving him alone. This was why he wanted the bastard back. Why he worried Cas was going to get himself killed somehow without Dean and Sam to watch his back.
Cas replied, "Yes," and Dean really had no idea what he was agreeing to, and God, Dean wanted to kiss him and... other things. Cas's skin- Jimmy's skin- whatever, was warm and pliant under Dean's hands and Dean wanted more so he let his fingers trail over Cas's shoulders to his back to ghost over the hard planes of his shoulder blades. He didn't think Cas had been injured on his back, but he was cautious anyway, went slow, didn't pull or push, wanting to give Cas every opportunity to stop Dean. Wanting Cas to know that he could say no. But Cas continued to meet Dean's eyes, pulling his arms in and along the underside of Dean's arms to his chest so that Dean's hands could fall lower, stroking at Cas's side. And Dean hoped to fuck Cas wouldn't say no now. He could show him so many good things. Dean could show Cas exactly how much he wanted this.
With his hands firmly on Cas's hips, fingers pushing just under the waistband of his pants, Dean lowered himself down onto his knees, twisting awkwardly in the small space between the bed and the chair. The movement pulled at the healing slash across his back, but he ignored it, because he had Cas under his hands, shifting his stance to make room for Dean. He rubbed his thumbs all along the waistline of Cas's slacks, leaning in to kiss at his stomach. Under his lips, Dean could feel Cas breathe in sharply at the touch.
Dean would like to have said he had no idea where this was going, but he did, because he was thinking about touching Cas where the angel had almost certainly never been touched before, and it made him feel fucking awesome, hot as hell, and it was really damn hard not to just rip open Cas's pants right then.
Cas was looking down at Dean, his eyes half-closed but still intent. Unreadable. And Dean had to be sure, so he pulled back, keeping his hands held still on Cas's waist. Dean wanted to touch and he wanted more and he wanted it right now, but this was Cas and more than anything Dean didn't want to scare the guy away by being a horny, fucked-up human, no matter how true it was.
"Cas?" he asked.
They stared at each other for what felt like forever because Dean was half-turned on and Cas was right there. Cas's hands rested between Dean's neck and shoulder blades, stroking at his hair and at his skin, brushing against his ears. Dean could feel his inhuman strength in his fingers when Cas gripped at Dean's shoulders. It reminded Dean what exactly Cas was, and the thought made heat pool somewhere beneath Dean's belly. The wait was excruciating, and Dean started to doubt himself. That Cas didn't want him like this. That Cas couldn't do this. That Cas was just going along with this because he didn't understand.
Except Cas had said he wasn't a fool, and he had watched humans for a long time. Dean wasn't so blind to miss that there was affection in the way Cas looked at him sometimes.
Then Cas's hands slid up to Dean's face and pulled him up, closer, and leaned down to kiss Dean.
Dean had no fucking idea why he'd never thought to do this before, because Cas might have been a virgin angel- or at least, as far as Dean knew he still was- but he knew how to kiss.
His lips were dry but moved confidently, heatedly, and Dean found himself pushing into Cas, bringing his arms up to press against Cas's back, and then there was a whole lot of tongue and Jesus Christ Cas was pushing back. His hands held onto the back of Dean's head, his fingers played in Dean's hair, pulling his head closer even though Dean was pretty sure there was no way they could get their mouths any more crushed together.
Cas tasted like clean air and not much else but it was good, so damn good, and Dean could've sworn he was getting light-headed because they hadn't come up for air at all, and it didn't look like Cas had any intention of stopping anytime soon. Damn angels not needing to breathe.
Dean couldn't stop touching, ran his hands from Cas's back, around to his chest, over lean muscle that felt taut beneath his fingers. Dean could feel every movement Cas made and he kissed Cas down the line of his neck and sucked at his collarbone. Dean was certain Cas had liked that because he arched his neck back, leaned over even further even though he was already bent almost in two. Dean breathed air against the pulse of Cas's body along the line of his throat, fast and getting faster, and Dean could relate because his skin felt so heated he thought he was going to burn up.
Cas said, "Dean," and Dean could feel the vibrations of Cas's voice against his lips and all Dean could think was that, fuck, yes, this was how it was supposed to go. He needed it. He couldn't wait.
Dean took the way Cas sighed his name, and the way he brushed fingers across Dean's face, and how he met Dean's tongue with his own as permission enough. Still kissing Cas, his neck aching from the strange angle and Dean really not caring at all. Dean felt his way to the buttons of Cas's pants, undid them slowly, drew down the zipper. It really wasn't as difficult as he'd expected. It wasn't as strange as he'd thought it'd be to feel another man's dick, to put his hands on it and to want more of it. To want to do a whole slew of really sordid things with it that Dean had only ever seen in pornos. And Cas was letting him, his breath stuttering, making small, choked-off noises in the back of his throat that Dean felt against his lips more than heard.
He pushed Cas away a little, not quite believing what he was going to do but determined to try. His own cock ached almost painfully, still shut up in his jeans, and wouldn't it just be freaking embarrassing if Dean went and came in his pants just from touching Cas like this. From licking down his sides, open-mouthed, feather-light kisses against the wounds there. Dean pulled Cas out, rubbing a thumb along the underside and felt its hardness and the softness of the skin. Dean wasn't surprised when Cas's hips stuttered forward, pushing himself into Dean's hand. Cas ran a hand through Dean's hair, mumbling in a language Dean had never heard.
When Dean put his lips around Cas, even that wasn't weird. It was just sex. And want. And lust. And Cas. And Dean had put his tongue in a hell of a lot weirder places.
It was pretty awesome when Cas choked back a moan at the first touch of tongue against him. By the time Dean had taken the whole head in his mouth and started really going at it Cas was panting, and Dean knew he wouldn't last long.
Something about how unselfconsciously Cas rocked into him and held Dean tightly and growled and hissed when Dean licked from base to tip reminded Dean then that this was Cas's first time, probably. And Dean was going to make it mind-blowing. There'd been so much shit to deal with when there'd been an apocalypse happening, and Dean was fairly certain Cas had gotten a really craptastic view of humanity, courtesy of the Winchesters. Dean was going to put that right. He would show Cas that humans had at least gotten a few things right, and sex was definitely one of them.
If the sounds Cas was making were anything to go by, he was getting the message.
There wasn't much skill going on, and Dean had about as much experience doing this as Cas likely did, but he knew what he'd liked so he went with that. Tongue loose, lips tight, careful of his teeth, and it didn't take long before Dean felt Cas tugging at his hair, warning, "Dean, Dean."
Never let it be said that Dean wasn't the adventurous type, but even he wasn't ready for Cas to come down his throat, so he pulled back, replacing his mouth with his hand.
"Let go, Cas," he urged, twisting his hand, moving faster. "Let it happen."
And Cas did.
He bent himself close, his eyes locked onto Dean's, and pulled Dean into a sloppy kiss.
Cas came with Dean's name and Dean's tongue on his lips, eyes wide open.
As they both came down from the rush of it, Dean held Cas's gaze, jerking him slowly through the last pulses of pleasure, not caring that he had Cas's come on his shirt. Castiel's eyes were still focused, even though his breathing came heavily and Dean could feel his flushed, heated skin under his fingertips, Cas still pushing up into Dean's hand in an unsteady rhythm, like his movements were involuntary.
Against the rattling windows, Dean could hear the rain had turned to hail, beating out a furious tapping sound.
He waited for Cas's breath to even out, for him to relax, kind of surprised by his own patience, but Dean wanted Cas to feel everything. To remember everything. To not leave him again. To stay in this room, with Dean, and kiss and fuck and not move from the bed until they were sweaty with sex and Dean was starving and aching. The thought that Cas would never tire, would never sleep, would never need to eat or drink turned Dean on even more. Cas was stronger, more powerful than Dean ever would be. He could break Dean with a thought, but he chose to let Dean do this to him. He chose to let Dean do messy, human things to him and if the look in Cas's eyes and the redness of his lips was anything to go by, Cas liked it too.
Dean was harder than he thought he'd ever been in his life- and that was really saying something- aching to be released from his jeans. For Cas's touch on him.
His knees were starting to ache from kneeling for so long, from all the movement, and Cas's awkward stance didn't look any more comfortable, so Dean stood up, let Cas help him up as his stiff legs unfolded and straightened until they were both standing, chest to chest. Up close, Dean took in Cas's flushed face and wet lips and wide eyes thinking, he'd been responsible for that, before kissing him again, and then again. Dean kept his hands low on Cas's hips, enjoyed the feel of Cas's fingers kneading into the muscles of his shoulders and his neck and raking at his hair.
"Cas," Dean said, and maybe he was pleading, because he needed something. Needed more of Cas.
Cas seemed to understand because he nodded and pushed Dean back onto the bed behind them, following Dean as he crawled his way up higher on the mattress, their mouths still trying to stay together. Dean drew away only to pull his shirt quickly over his head, throwing it onto the floor. Between his legs, Cas got busy trying to undo Dean's pants and just from that, from the brush of Cas's hands against the denim and the concentrated, determined look on Cas's face, Dean thought he would come. It was torture, the way Cas's fingers played over his crotch and at his zipper so Dean reached towards Cas, took his face in his hands and pulled him down so that Cas was laying on top of him, bare chest to bare chest, groin to groin.
Every little shift sparked heat and friction, and Dean sucked on Cas's lower lip and felt Cas's tongue against his own. Cas's body was heavy, his skin felt sweat-slick when Dean stroked hands down his back, and Dean began pushing at his pants impatiently because Jesus Fuck but they needed to be naked right now.
Cas got the idea quickly, squirming his way out of his pants. The movement made Dean growl and grasp at Cas's sides and arms and hiss, and he jerked up into Cas's body involuntarily, seeking more pressure, badly wanting to come. He ignored the sharp pain in his shoulder when he stretched down, and the sting along his back where the bandaging Sam had stuck there was coming loose.
It was possibly the hottest thing ever when Cas started making his way down Dean's body, putting his hands and his tongue everywhere, tasting and trailing teeth over skin, and stroking at Dean's elbows and along his hips. Slowly, painfully slowly, teasing, Cas stripped away Dean's jeans and his underwear, kissing down his legs all the way to his ankles. Exploring, Dean realised. It was a relief to finally be freed from his clothes, but it was all Dean could do to grit his teeth and bear Cas's attention, and not to whine and moan and tell him to hurry up and do something.
The room was mostly quiet, save for Dean's breathless pants and the occasional creak of the bed, and the brutal wind and hail against the windows. It should have been freaky, Dean thought, that Cas was so damn quiet, but it was the way Cas was so much of the time he guessed he should've known he'd be like this. Intent, too. Cas was focused, exhaustive in the way he ran his hands slowly all over Dean's exposed skin until he was finally kissing his way up the inside of Dean's thigh. Dean was almost tempted to take himself in his own hands by this point and he swore, "Fuck, Cas."
He felt warm breath against his groin in reply, then the light touch of lips against his cock and Dean couldn't stop himself pushing his hips up, trying to find heat and pressure. Cas shifted up onto his elbows, holding Dean down with his palms spread around the curve of Dean's thighs, and suddenly, gloriously Cas was taking Dean into his mouth.
Cas was cautious at first, tasting the head with his tongue, but he quickly grew more confident, taking a whole lot more down than Dean was capable of. And yeah, no way could Dean stop himself straining up, Cas's mouth freaking perfect around him.
Cas's grip was immovable though and Dean found himself completely at Cas's mercy and holy shit that was hot.
It only took Cas another few seconds of hot tongue and tight lips around Dean, his thumbs brushing lines over and over Dean's skin where he held him down, before Dean was coming and coming, awesome pleasure and heat sliding along every inch of Dean's body. And Cas didn't seem to care at all. He didn't flinch back or pull away, just kept right on sucking and licking until Dean was wrung dry and his lungs were straining for air.
As soon as Dean could feel his toes again, as soon as he could remember where he was and what he was doing and could think of more than just the hotness and the awesome sluggishness in his muscles, and the fucking bliss of it, Dean pulled Cas up and kissed the life out of him.
It wasn't the first time he'd tasted himself in someone else's mouth but it was definitely the dirtiest. Angel, Dean reminded himself. Cas.
Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's shoulders, rolled them both so they were lying on their sides and he could stroke his hand down Cas's cheek, and along his neck and down his arm. So he could look at Cas. Really look at him.
There was a relaxed set to Cas's face that Dean couldn't ever remember seeing before and he thought, I did that, and felt really damn smug.
"That was," Dean started, and found his voice rough, still breathless.
Cas brought his palm up to rest against Dean's neck, brushed fingers along the fine hairs there. Dean was starting to get the feeling Cas had a thing for his hair.
Outside, the storm still raged, angry and relentless and howling, but on that bed, in that hotel room, Dean fell asleep with Cas's lips pressed lightly against his cheek, and Cas's hands wrapped around him, and Dean felt only peace.
***
Dean woke to the sound of the door unlocking and was instantly wide-awake, hand groping under his pillow for a knife that wasn't there.
"Shit," he swore, and cursed himself for getting lax. It wasn't like him.
Whoever was trying to get in was taking a damn long time about it, but Dean still didn't think there was time to make it to the duffel bag, filled with handy things like salt and ammunition and Dean's damn knife. Under the covers, Dean was still naked and kind of sticky and gross and definitely not up for company. Feeling the grittiness, the pull in his shoulder, it hit Dean exactly why he'd forgotten.
Neither of the other beds had been slept in, and Dean suddenly had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who was at the door.
The bed beside him was empty and cold, and Dean looked over to see Cas standing beside one of the windows with his hands loose at his sides. Seeing Dean awake, Cas turned, stared back at Dean, looking as unruffled as ever. He was dressed, his coat and jacket and tie in place like he'd never taken them off. Like Dean had never taken them off for him. He didn't seem at all concerned by the clinking and rattling coming from the door's lock, so it could only be Sam.
Which made it not at all better.
There was a dull kind of light coming in through the windows where Castiel had pulled back the curtain a little way to watch the streets below. Or at least, that's what Dean presumed Cas had been doing. Dean frowned, because the light meant Sam had been out all night, and that never went well.
And fuck but Dean smelled of sex and there was no time to even cover himself up any more before the door was opening and Sam was coming into the room looking slightly confused and a lot mussed. Sex mussed, Dean realised, his clothes looking rumpled, like they'd been hurriedly thrown on.
He wasn't suspicious, he told himself. He trusted Sam. Sam was big and ugly enough to go out and get laid if he wanted to. It had nothing to do with Dean.
"Hey," Sam greeted Dean. He sounded like he couldn't quite remember how he'd ended up there. Dean might've been suspicious Sam had gone out and gotten drunk, what with all the trouble he'd had with the lock, but he didn't look hungover.
Castiel nodded, "Good morning, Sam."
Sam's nod in reply looked half-confused, half-guilty and Dean couldn't stop himself demanding, "Where the hell have you been?"
He didn't miss Sam's flinch, but his brother stepped fully into the room and closed the door firmly behind himself.
"I... got sidetracked," he said.
"Sidetracked," Dean repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Sam nodded absently.
"Who did you get sidetracked with?" Dean asked warily, and Sam grimaced.
"It wasn't a demon or anything, Dean," Sam shot back defensively. He stormed noisily to his bag which still sat at the edge of his untouched bed and started rummaging through it. Dean could see his knife and handgun get moved aside, and was just glad Sam was in too much of a snit to notice.
Looking towards the window, Dean met Cas's eyes, fairly sure that Cas would be able to tell if Sam had gone and done something stupid. He was relieved when Cas shook his head.
"I can tell you're having some freaky silent conversation about me, you know," Sam huffed, pulling clothes out of his duffel. He looked up suddenly, scowling at Dean. Maybe not too pissed to notice something weird was going on after all.
Shit.
Dean saw the moment Sam noticed he was naked, his lips thinning and his face going all scowly. Then Sam turned to look at Cas, and for a few long seconds all Dean could see was the back of Sam's head. Cas didn't move or say anything. When Sam finally turned back he was glaring, and Dean really really tried to keep his expression blank. He had no clue what conclusions Sam had come to, but from the way his brother was looking at him- somewhere between angry and confused and shocked- Dean had a suspicion he'd guessed right.
Whatever Sam saw, he put his hands up in defeat. "I don't want to know," he said, and gathered his things up into his arms before slamming his way into the bathroom. It was like having teenaged Sam back all over again.
The shower turned on, and Cas kept right on staring at Dean and Dean had not a freaking clue what to do.
God, he hated the awkward morning after. The worst thing was that it wasn't really so much awkward as it was confusing. Cas staring was nothing new, but now Dean knew what Cas sounded like when he came; all heavy, panting breath and grasping hands. He knew that Cas liked it when Dean sucked on his neck, and stroked down his back. He knew the way Castiel's lips felt around his dick. These were not the kind of things you were supposed to find out about your friends.
And yet, Dean couldn't bring himself to regret a single second of it. And holy crap he was going right back to hell but he wanted to do it again.
What had he even been thinking last night anyway? Sam could have come back at any minute. They were on a case. Cas was a freaking angel, and if there was one thing Dean didn't want- would do pretty much anything to avoid- it was to drag Cas back down. To make him fall again. Because Dean knew exactly how badly that could go.
"I don't regret it," Cas said then into the weird silence. Bastard angel had been reading Dean's mind again, Dean was sure, and the worst thing was that Dean was actually glad for it.
It was the easiest thing to say, "Me either."
Cas nodded once, like that solved everything, and maybe it did because then Cas gave Dean one of his half-smile things and tilted his head forward. Dean had no idea what that meant, but he hoped it was going to lead to more awesome blowjobs in the near future.
"You could've cleaned me up, too," Dean complained, teasing, looking down at the mess of sheets around his waist. He could smell sex and sweat and yeah, no way Sam could ever've missed that.
From his perch by the window Cas tipped his head which was about the closest he ever got to a shrug and told Dean solemnly, "I didn't want to wake you."
Which Dean was pretty sure was a lie, so Dean huffed a laugh and it was so easy. "C'mere," Dean said, holding out his hand, and Cas stepped around the beds and came to Dean, taking the outstretched hand and letting Dean pull him down and close until he was bent over, balancing with one hand on the mattress beside Dean. There, Dean could reach his lips, so he kissed Cas slow and soft, like he hadn't really done the night before.
From the bathroom, Dean heard the shower shutting off and realised he'd forgotten Sam was there. Again. Dean would have worried he was losing his mind or something, but Cas was close and staring at Dean with that look of his that somehow managed to be blank and soft and inviting all at the same time.
Dean would like to have stayed like that, just looking and kissing and learning each other without the crazy, heady lust of before. To not have to go anywhere, do anything but this. But there was Sam, and Sam had been gone a whole night.
And somehow he'd come back from hell.
"When you called," Dean said, his voice low. Sam was crashing around in the bathroom and they didn't have long. "I thought you were coming for Sam."
It was hard to say, his throat was dry, felt constricted. But it was kind of a relief, a weight off Dean's shoulders after weeks of worry and doubt. He didn't want to doubt.
Cas seemed to get it because he sighed and sat down beside Dean. It was space between them that Dean could have done without, but they needed to have this conversation. He needed to have this conversation. Still, Cas was close enough that Dean could feel his warmth and hear his trench coat shift and slide as he settled himself. He didn't pull his hand away from Dean's loose grip.
"I told you I've watched you," Cas said. "I wouldn't have allowed a Sam that was not Sam to deceive you. I don't believe anything could have deceived you that way."
Which was about the sweetest thing Cas had ever said to Dean.
"I know it's Sam," Dean said firmly. "I just need to know if he's..."
Human. Not crazy. Lying to me. Dean really wasn't sure what.
"The same?" Cas suggested.
Dean nodded.
"He is as he was before he fell to hell," Cas said. "He has the same taint of demon blood. Lucifer is not within him. If he is lying to you or not I couldn't say. You don't like it when I read your minds."
Dean scoffed. "You usually do it anyway."
"No, I don't."
And fuck it all but Dean believed him.
<< 1. | 3. >>
Full warnings, summary and notes at Part 0.
0. | 1. | 2. | 3. | 4. | 5. | 6. | 7. | 8. | 9.
.Contrapasso.
2.
Without a car or a highway or anything like normal, Dean was forced to check into an actual hotel in town, with multiple floors and an elevator and room service and a concierge and all other kinds of crap Dean neither needed nor trusted. It made Dean's skin crawl. But then, the whole fucking town made Dean's skin crawl.
The receptionist had given the three of them one of the sourest looks Dean had ever seen, and told them this was a family establishment and to keep the noise down after ten. Like they were going to go straight to their room and have a big gay orgy or something. Cas's polite nod and serious, "We will be mindful of the noise," really hadn't helped.
Dean had forgotten how literally the damn angel took everything; he'd been close to gagging Cas when they'd had to give their statements to the local police after Phil the Crazy Guy had passed out. Or, more accurately, been made to pass out by Cas. Lucky for them everyone in the whole town seemed oblivious to Cas's attempts to tell them he had sent the man to sleep for his own safety. It was weird, but Dean had a feeling the locals almost couldn't see Cas. Like he was only half there.
They never asked him direct questions, and never looked him in the eye. Dean knew Sam had noticed it too because his brother made a concerted effort to direct questions to Cas, including Cas in his conversations, trying to gauge the local's reactions. Now that Dean thought about it, their waitress had been the same. She'd taken Dean and Sam's orders, and looked kind of confused when Dean ordered a third coffee. Cas didn't seem concerned, and shook his head dismissively when Dean had asked him about his apparent invisibility and told him, "It's not a major concern." Which Dean took as Cas-speak for not having a clue what was going on.
Just as the sky was turning grey with heavy clouds, the unconscious body of Phil was carted off to the station and Sam and Dean and Cas, and the rest of the customers, were finally released from the diner. It was late afternoon and the wind had picked up. They looked set for rain and Dean worried about the Impala, left alone and abandoned on the outskirts of town. He really hoped those damn hellhounds wouldn't see her as a threat. Dean couldn't bring himself to follow that thought through any further.
Finding a hotel hadn't been easy. The townsfolk weren't particularly friendly or helpful, and finding something within their limited price-range, within walking distance had been a nightmare. It was dark and getting to cold by the time they found a room.
Three floors up and at the end of a narrow, windowless hallway, the room had three beds, because the receptionist hadn't seemed inclined to give them anything else, and barely enough room to move around between them. There was a desk, old and solidly made, with a chair that creaked when Cas sat down on it. The wallpaper was a plain, functional white and green. Dean thought the decorators had maybe been thinking the colour scheme would be calming or something, but it had just ended up looking kind of clinical and ugly. The room, like the town, was spotless and tidy, and Dean couldn't see any patches of dry rot or a single water stain anywhere. The brownish green carpet was impeccably clean, and it made Dean want to spill coffee and gun oil all over it.
They had a corner room with windows on two walls and Dean could hear the glass rattling in its old frames. When Dean looked out, he could see the main street below, diffused light from the shop fronts illuminating the road. It was almost empty of people now that the rain was starting to fall and it had gotten to dark.
Dean pulled the curtains closed tightly and turned back to the room to see Sam switching on the reading lamps, pulling out his computer and booting it up. His brother pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged on the bed in front of the laptop. The bed sagged and creaked loudly as Sam shifted.
"You think this place has Internet?" Dean asked. Places that didn't actually exist weren't likely to have good communications. His phone hadn't had a signal all day.
Sam shrugged. "Won't hurt to try. If not, we're going to have to do this the old-fashioned way."
Dean groaned.
"What is the old-fashioned way?" Cas asked. He shifted on the wooden chair like he was uncomfortable, his arms resting stiffly on this legs.
"Libraries," Dean explained, trying to impart his disgust at the prospect. "Books. Records. Handwriting."
"It's slow, but it's all we've got to go on a lot of the time," Sam agreed, sounding resigned.
Cas looked between them curiously. "What is it you hope to find?"
"Something about this town that might help us understand what's going on here. It's how we've always worked with cases like this," Sam explained, eyes fixed on the computer screen.
"Cases like this," Cas repeated. "You've never had a case like this."
Dean sat himself down on the bed closest to Cas. "Crazy town. Crazy people. We've had it before. What else are we supposed to do?"
Sam snorted, but he was nodding emphatically.
"Look for the missing angels," Cas said.
"Not our speciality," Dean said lightly. "More your thing."
Castiel bowed his head, conceding the point, then made to stand up. "You're right. I shall seek them out."
Every instinct told Dean the sensible thing to do was to split up on this. Cas didn't need to sleep. Dean and Sam couldn't transport themselves instantly, or go off flying to wherever Cas could to search out his missing angels. As far as Dean could tell there wasn't any immediate threat from the town, unless you counted the one crazy they'd come across earlier, and Cas still had enough of his angel-juice to defend himself against any humans. Pretty much all a human could do to him was maybe hurt his feelings. If he even still had any of those.
When he'd been falling into humanity Cas had been a whole mess of contradictions between emotion and stubborn stoicism, and Dean'd almost gotten used to that, at the end. He'd accepted that was the way Cas was going to be. Now it was like all that was gone. Cas's face was impassive and Dean was back to finding it almost impossible to read the angel's body language. He'd once thought he'd gotten quite good at it and he felt the not-knowing like a loss.
Dean didn't know if it was just this place, but there had been pain when the wolf-creatures had slashed at him, and sometimes Dean thought that when Cas stared at him there was some fondness there. Like maybe he'd missed Dean. Or maybe that was just Dean's imagination.
He didn't know why, but the thought of Cas leaving made him angry. Unhappy. Something in Dean thought that if Cas left now he wouldn't be coming back. Dean wasn't going to call it panic, but something made him reach out and grab Cas's wrist before the angel bastard had the chance to flit off anywhere.
"You shouldn't leave," Dean said, desperately trying to understand just what the fuck he thought he was doing, and at the same time trying to come up with a good reason for Cas to stay. "We should stick together."
It was lame as hell, but Cas looked up from where he was staring at Dean's fingers wrapped tightly around his wrist. It might've been Dean's imagination but he could've sworn Cas smiled, just a small lifting of the corners of his mouth. "I should stay."
Dean held onto Cas's wrist, just watching Cas watch him and Cas didn't seem inclined to move either.
"Err," Sam said hesitantly and Dean realised he'd forgotten that Sam was even there, still sitting on his bed in front of his laptop. "There's no Internet."
Sam shuffled off the mattress, closing the computer and shoving it under his arm, picking up the keys off the bedside table and pulling on his jacket. "I'm going to check downstairs. I'll be back in... a while."
Dean didn't watch his brother leave, just said, "Cool," and heard the door close behind him. It struck Dean that just a second ago Dean had been saying they should all stick together, and now he was letting Sam wander off on his own. But Sam was a big boy, and he'd said he was only going downstairs. Dean was pretty sure even Sam couldn't get into any trouble going down a few flights of stairs.
And Cas was here. Right in front of Dean. Watching.
He shifted uncomfortably from one foot to another, standing awkwardly. "Sit down, Cas," Dean told him, and was kind of stunned when Cas actually obeyed. They were leaning towards each other, Dean noticed. "You healed?" he asked, because even if Cas's clothes were now mostly mended, the way Cas hunched in on himself, and the tightness around his eyes told Dean he was still in some pain.
"For the most part," Cas said dismissively, which was enough of a no for Dean to shake his head and stand up, starting to push the trench coat off Cas's shoulders.
"Let me see," Dean demanded.
"They are healing, Dean," Cas insisted. There was a hint of that earlier irritation in his tone. "There is nothing you can do to assist me."
"Humour me."
Dean waited for a long moment while Cas stared back, still with his hands on Cas's shoulders, before the angel nodded and let Dean strip off the coat, then his jacket, and his shirt.
"I don't understand why you and Sam keep insisting I take my clothes off," Cas sighed, and he sounded so put out that Dean couldn't help but laugh.
"Maybe we're taking advantage," Dean quipped.
"I'm not a fool, Dean," Castiel retorted. "Nor do I believe either of you would, even if you could."
The comment made Dean pause because, okay, it was probably true, but sometimes Dean really wished it wasn't. Like now.
Outside, the rain was coming down heavily now, battering loudly against the windows in the silence of the room. It had really turned into a storm.
Sam was still gone. Cas was here with his chest and his arms and his back exposed and it was the first time Dean could ever remember looking at a man like this. Like maybe he wanted to touch that skin and find out what it tasted like.
Fuck.
This was Cas, and Cas was an angel and this was fucking ridiculous. Something wasn't right here. He wanted something he never had before, or at least, something he'd never allowed himself to believe he could ever have, and Cas was looking back at Dean like he'd give it, if Dean asked.
Shit.
Cas's arms were all cut up still, criss-crossed with sore-looking red lines. Definitely healing but they'd still hurt to touch, so Dean didn't. At least, he thought, he still had that much self-control. There were healing scars along his stomach and chest too, but nothing on his shoulders so Dean put his hands there, feeling warm skin under his fingers instead of cool fabric. Dean had no clue what the hell he was doing. What the hell he was thinking.
Cas's voice was quiet, low and close when he said, "Dean," and reached out towards Dean, gripping Dean's lower arms loosely, pushing himself back up onto his feet so they were face to face. Even closer.
There it was. Welcome. Promise. Acceptance. And it was too much.
"There's something not right here," Dean said, and it hurt to say it because there wasn't. There was nothing wrong with this. This was what Dean wanted. This was why Dean was so pissed at Cas for leaving him alone. This was why he wanted the bastard back. Why he worried Cas was going to get himself killed somehow without Dean and Sam to watch his back.
Cas replied, "Yes," and Dean really had no idea what he was agreeing to, and God, Dean wanted to kiss him and... other things. Cas's skin- Jimmy's skin- whatever, was warm and pliant under Dean's hands and Dean wanted more so he let his fingers trail over Cas's shoulders to his back to ghost over the hard planes of his shoulder blades. He didn't think Cas had been injured on his back, but he was cautious anyway, went slow, didn't pull or push, wanting to give Cas every opportunity to stop Dean. Wanting Cas to know that he could say no. But Cas continued to meet Dean's eyes, pulling his arms in and along the underside of Dean's arms to his chest so that Dean's hands could fall lower, stroking at Cas's side. And Dean hoped to fuck Cas wouldn't say no now. He could show him so many good things. Dean could show Cas exactly how much he wanted this.
With his hands firmly on Cas's hips, fingers pushing just under the waistband of his pants, Dean lowered himself down onto his knees, twisting awkwardly in the small space between the bed and the chair. The movement pulled at the healing slash across his back, but he ignored it, because he had Cas under his hands, shifting his stance to make room for Dean. He rubbed his thumbs all along the waistline of Cas's slacks, leaning in to kiss at his stomach. Under his lips, Dean could feel Cas breathe in sharply at the touch.
Dean would like to have said he had no idea where this was going, but he did, because he was thinking about touching Cas where the angel had almost certainly never been touched before, and it made him feel fucking awesome, hot as hell, and it was really damn hard not to just rip open Cas's pants right then.
Cas was looking down at Dean, his eyes half-closed but still intent. Unreadable. And Dean had to be sure, so he pulled back, keeping his hands held still on Cas's waist. Dean wanted to touch and he wanted more and he wanted it right now, but this was Cas and more than anything Dean didn't want to scare the guy away by being a horny, fucked-up human, no matter how true it was.
"Cas?" he asked.
They stared at each other for what felt like forever because Dean was half-turned on and Cas was right there. Cas's hands rested between Dean's neck and shoulder blades, stroking at his hair and at his skin, brushing against his ears. Dean could feel his inhuman strength in his fingers when Cas gripped at Dean's shoulders. It reminded Dean what exactly Cas was, and the thought made heat pool somewhere beneath Dean's belly. The wait was excruciating, and Dean started to doubt himself. That Cas didn't want him like this. That Cas couldn't do this. That Cas was just going along with this because he didn't understand.
Except Cas had said he wasn't a fool, and he had watched humans for a long time. Dean wasn't so blind to miss that there was affection in the way Cas looked at him sometimes.
Then Cas's hands slid up to Dean's face and pulled him up, closer, and leaned down to kiss Dean.
Dean had no fucking idea why he'd never thought to do this before, because Cas might have been a virgin angel- or at least, as far as Dean knew he still was- but he knew how to kiss.
His lips were dry but moved confidently, heatedly, and Dean found himself pushing into Cas, bringing his arms up to press against Cas's back, and then there was a whole lot of tongue and Jesus Christ Cas was pushing back. His hands held onto the back of Dean's head, his fingers played in Dean's hair, pulling his head closer even though Dean was pretty sure there was no way they could get their mouths any more crushed together.
Cas tasted like clean air and not much else but it was good, so damn good, and Dean could've sworn he was getting light-headed because they hadn't come up for air at all, and it didn't look like Cas had any intention of stopping anytime soon. Damn angels not needing to breathe.
Dean couldn't stop touching, ran his hands from Cas's back, around to his chest, over lean muscle that felt taut beneath his fingers. Dean could feel every movement Cas made and he kissed Cas down the line of his neck and sucked at his collarbone. Dean was certain Cas had liked that because he arched his neck back, leaned over even further even though he was already bent almost in two. Dean breathed air against the pulse of Cas's body along the line of his throat, fast and getting faster, and Dean could relate because his skin felt so heated he thought he was going to burn up.
Cas said, "Dean," and Dean could feel the vibrations of Cas's voice against his lips and all Dean could think was that, fuck, yes, this was how it was supposed to go. He needed it. He couldn't wait.
Dean took the way Cas sighed his name, and the way he brushed fingers across Dean's face, and how he met Dean's tongue with his own as permission enough. Still kissing Cas, his neck aching from the strange angle and Dean really not caring at all. Dean felt his way to the buttons of Cas's pants, undid them slowly, drew down the zipper. It really wasn't as difficult as he'd expected. It wasn't as strange as he'd thought it'd be to feel another man's dick, to put his hands on it and to want more of it. To want to do a whole slew of really sordid things with it that Dean had only ever seen in pornos. And Cas was letting him, his breath stuttering, making small, choked-off noises in the back of his throat that Dean felt against his lips more than heard.
He pushed Cas away a little, not quite believing what he was going to do but determined to try. His own cock ached almost painfully, still shut up in his jeans, and wouldn't it just be freaking embarrassing if Dean went and came in his pants just from touching Cas like this. From licking down his sides, open-mouthed, feather-light kisses against the wounds there. Dean pulled Cas out, rubbing a thumb along the underside and felt its hardness and the softness of the skin. Dean wasn't surprised when Cas's hips stuttered forward, pushing himself into Dean's hand. Cas ran a hand through Dean's hair, mumbling in a language Dean had never heard.
When Dean put his lips around Cas, even that wasn't weird. It was just sex. And want. And lust. And Cas. And Dean had put his tongue in a hell of a lot weirder places.
It was pretty awesome when Cas choked back a moan at the first touch of tongue against him. By the time Dean had taken the whole head in his mouth and started really going at it Cas was panting, and Dean knew he wouldn't last long.
Something about how unselfconsciously Cas rocked into him and held Dean tightly and growled and hissed when Dean licked from base to tip reminded Dean then that this was Cas's first time, probably. And Dean was going to make it mind-blowing. There'd been so much shit to deal with when there'd been an apocalypse happening, and Dean was fairly certain Cas had gotten a really craptastic view of humanity, courtesy of the Winchesters. Dean was going to put that right. He would show Cas that humans had at least gotten a few things right, and sex was definitely one of them.
If the sounds Cas was making were anything to go by, he was getting the message.
There wasn't much skill going on, and Dean had about as much experience doing this as Cas likely did, but he knew what he'd liked so he went with that. Tongue loose, lips tight, careful of his teeth, and it didn't take long before Dean felt Cas tugging at his hair, warning, "Dean, Dean."
Never let it be said that Dean wasn't the adventurous type, but even he wasn't ready for Cas to come down his throat, so he pulled back, replacing his mouth with his hand.
"Let go, Cas," he urged, twisting his hand, moving faster. "Let it happen."
And Cas did.
He bent himself close, his eyes locked onto Dean's, and pulled Dean into a sloppy kiss.
Cas came with Dean's name and Dean's tongue on his lips, eyes wide open.
As they both came down from the rush of it, Dean held Cas's gaze, jerking him slowly through the last pulses of pleasure, not caring that he had Cas's come on his shirt. Castiel's eyes were still focused, even though his breathing came heavily and Dean could feel his flushed, heated skin under his fingertips, Cas still pushing up into Dean's hand in an unsteady rhythm, like his movements were involuntary.
Against the rattling windows, Dean could hear the rain had turned to hail, beating out a furious tapping sound.
He waited for Cas's breath to even out, for him to relax, kind of surprised by his own patience, but Dean wanted Cas to feel everything. To remember everything. To not leave him again. To stay in this room, with Dean, and kiss and fuck and not move from the bed until they were sweaty with sex and Dean was starving and aching. The thought that Cas would never tire, would never sleep, would never need to eat or drink turned Dean on even more. Cas was stronger, more powerful than Dean ever would be. He could break Dean with a thought, but he chose to let Dean do this to him. He chose to let Dean do messy, human things to him and if the look in Cas's eyes and the redness of his lips was anything to go by, Cas liked it too.
Dean was harder than he thought he'd ever been in his life- and that was really saying something- aching to be released from his jeans. For Cas's touch on him.
His knees were starting to ache from kneeling for so long, from all the movement, and Cas's awkward stance didn't look any more comfortable, so Dean stood up, let Cas help him up as his stiff legs unfolded and straightened until they were both standing, chest to chest. Up close, Dean took in Cas's flushed face and wet lips and wide eyes thinking, he'd been responsible for that, before kissing him again, and then again. Dean kept his hands low on Cas's hips, enjoyed the feel of Cas's fingers kneading into the muscles of his shoulders and his neck and raking at his hair.
"Cas," Dean said, and maybe he was pleading, because he needed something. Needed more of Cas.
Cas seemed to understand because he nodded and pushed Dean back onto the bed behind them, following Dean as he crawled his way up higher on the mattress, their mouths still trying to stay together. Dean drew away only to pull his shirt quickly over his head, throwing it onto the floor. Between his legs, Cas got busy trying to undo Dean's pants and just from that, from the brush of Cas's hands against the denim and the concentrated, determined look on Cas's face, Dean thought he would come. It was torture, the way Cas's fingers played over his crotch and at his zipper so Dean reached towards Cas, took his face in his hands and pulled him down so that Cas was laying on top of him, bare chest to bare chest, groin to groin.
Every little shift sparked heat and friction, and Dean sucked on Cas's lower lip and felt Cas's tongue against his own. Cas's body was heavy, his skin felt sweat-slick when Dean stroked hands down his back, and Dean began pushing at his pants impatiently because Jesus Fuck but they needed to be naked right now.
Cas got the idea quickly, squirming his way out of his pants. The movement made Dean growl and grasp at Cas's sides and arms and hiss, and he jerked up into Cas's body involuntarily, seeking more pressure, badly wanting to come. He ignored the sharp pain in his shoulder when he stretched down, and the sting along his back where the bandaging Sam had stuck there was coming loose.
It was possibly the hottest thing ever when Cas started making his way down Dean's body, putting his hands and his tongue everywhere, tasting and trailing teeth over skin, and stroking at Dean's elbows and along his hips. Slowly, painfully slowly, teasing, Cas stripped away Dean's jeans and his underwear, kissing down his legs all the way to his ankles. Exploring, Dean realised. It was a relief to finally be freed from his clothes, but it was all Dean could do to grit his teeth and bear Cas's attention, and not to whine and moan and tell him to hurry up and do something.
The room was mostly quiet, save for Dean's breathless pants and the occasional creak of the bed, and the brutal wind and hail against the windows. It should have been freaky, Dean thought, that Cas was so damn quiet, but it was the way Cas was so much of the time he guessed he should've known he'd be like this. Intent, too. Cas was focused, exhaustive in the way he ran his hands slowly all over Dean's exposed skin until he was finally kissing his way up the inside of Dean's thigh. Dean was almost tempted to take himself in his own hands by this point and he swore, "Fuck, Cas."
He felt warm breath against his groin in reply, then the light touch of lips against his cock and Dean couldn't stop himself pushing his hips up, trying to find heat and pressure. Cas shifted up onto his elbows, holding Dean down with his palms spread around the curve of Dean's thighs, and suddenly, gloriously Cas was taking Dean into his mouth.
Cas was cautious at first, tasting the head with his tongue, but he quickly grew more confident, taking a whole lot more down than Dean was capable of. And yeah, no way could Dean stop himself straining up, Cas's mouth freaking perfect around him.
Cas's grip was immovable though and Dean found himself completely at Cas's mercy and holy shit that was hot.
It only took Cas another few seconds of hot tongue and tight lips around Dean, his thumbs brushing lines over and over Dean's skin where he held him down, before Dean was coming and coming, awesome pleasure and heat sliding along every inch of Dean's body. And Cas didn't seem to care at all. He didn't flinch back or pull away, just kept right on sucking and licking until Dean was wrung dry and his lungs were straining for air.
As soon as Dean could feel his toes again, as soon as he could remember where he was and what he was doing and could think of more than just the hotness and the awesome sluggishness in his muscles, and the fucking bliss of it, Dean pulled Cas up and kissed the life out of him.
It wasn't the first time he'd tasted himself in someone else's mouth but it was definitely the dirtiest. Angel, Dean reminded himself. Cas.
Dean wrapped his arms around Cas's shoulders, rolled them both so they were lying on their sides and he could stroke his hand down Cas's cheek, and along his neck and down his arm. So he could look at Cas. Really look at him.
There was a relaxed set to Cas's face that Dean couldn't ever remember seeing before and he thought, I did that, and felt really damn smug.
"That was," Dean started, and found his voice rough, still breathless.
Cas brought his palm up to rest against Dean's neck, brushed fingers along the fine hairs there. Dean was starting to get the feeling Cas had a thing for his hair.
Outside, the storm still raged, angry and relentless and howling, but on that bed, in that hotel room, Dean fell asleep with Cas's lips pressed lightly against his cheek, and Cas's hands wrapped around him, and Dean felt only peace.
***
Dean woke to the sound of the door unlocking and was instantly wide-awake, hand groping under his pillow for a knife that wasn't there.
"Shit," he swore, and cursed himself for getting lax. It wasn't like him.
Whoever was trying to get in was taking a damn long time about it, but Dean still didn't think there was time to make it to the duffel bag, filled with handy things like salt and ammunition and Dean's damn knife. Under the covers, Dean was still naked and kind of sticky and gross and definitely not up for company. Feeling the grittiness, the pull in his shoulder, it hit Dean exactly why he'd forgotten.
Neither of the other beds had been slept in, and Dean suddenly had a sinking feeling he knew exactly who was at the door.
The bed beside him was empty and cold, and Dean looked over to see Cas standing beside one of the windows with his hands loose at his sides. Seeing Dean awake, Cas turned, stared back at Dean, looking as unruffled as ever. He was dressed, his coat and jacket and tie in place like he'd never taken them off. Like Dean had never taken them off for him. He didn't seem at all concerned by the clinking and rattling coming from the door's lock, so it could only be Sam.
Which made it not at all better.
There was a dull kind of light coming in through the windows where Castiel had pulled back the curtain a little way to watch the streets below. Or at least, that's what Dean presumed Cas had been doing. Dean frowned, because the light meant Sam had been out all night, and that never went well.
And fuck but Dean smelled of sex and there was no time to even cover himself up any more before the door was opening and Sam was coming into the room looking slightly confused and a lot mussed. Sex mussed, Dean realised, his clothes looking rumpled, like they'd been hurriedly thrown on.
He wasn't suspicious, he told himself. He trusted Sam. Sam was big and ugly enough to go out and get laid if he wanted to. It had nothing to do with Dean.
"Hey," Sam greeted Dean. He sounded like he couldn't quite remember how he'd ended up there. Dean might've been suspicious Sam had gone out and gotten drunk, what with all the trouble he'd had with the lock, but he didn't look hungover.
Castiel nodded, "Good morning, Sam."
Sam's nod in reply looked half-confused, half-guilty and Dean couldn't stop himself demanding, "Where the hell have you been?"
He didn't miss Sam's flinch, but his brother stepped fully into the room and closed the door firmly behind himself.
"I... got sidetracked," he said.
"Sidetracked," Dean repeated, raising an eyebrow.
Sam nodded absently.
"Who did you get sidetracked with?" Dean asked warily, and Sam grimaced.
"It wasn't a demon or anything, Dean," Sam shot back defensively. He stormed noisily to his bag which still sat at the edge of his untouched bed and started rummaging through it. Dean could see his knife and handgun get moved aside, and was just glad Sam was in too much of a snit to notice.
Looking towards the window, Dean met Cas's eyes, fairly sure that Cas would be able to tell if Sam had gone and done something stupid. He was relieved when Cas shook his head.
"I can tell you're having some freaky silent conversation about me, you know," Sam huffed, pulling clothes out of his duffel. He looked up suddenly, scowling at Dean. Maybe not too pissed to notice something weird was going on after all.
Shit.
Dean saw the moment Sam noticed he was naked, his lips thinning and his face going all scowly. Then Sam turned to look at Cas, and for a few long seconds all Dean could see was the back of Sam's head. Cas didn't move or say anything. When Sam finally turned back he was glaring, and Dean really really tried to keep his expression blank. He had no clue what conclusions Sam had come to, but from the way his brother was looking at him- somewhere between angry and confused and shocked- Dean had a suspicion he'd guessed right.
Whatever Sam saw, he put his hands up in defeat. "I don't want to know," he said, and gathered his things up into his arms before slamming his way into the bathroom. It was like having teenaged Sam back all over again.
The shower turned on, and Cas kept right on staring at Dean and Dean had not a freaking clue what to do.
God, he hated the awkward morning after. The worst thing was that it wasn't really so much awkward as it was confusing. Cas staring was nothing new, but now Dean knew what Cas sounded like when he came; all heavy, panting breath and grasping hands. He knew that Cas liked it when Dean sucked on his neck, and stroked down his back. He knew the way Castiel's lips felt around his dick. These were not the kind of things you were supposed to find out about your friends.
And yet, Dean couldn't bring himself to regret a single second of it. And holy crap he was going right back to hell but he wanted to do it again.
What had he even been thinking last night anyway? Sam could have come back at any minute. They were on a case. Cas was a freaking angel, and if there was one thing Dean didn't want- would do pretty much anything to avoid- it was to drag Cas back down. To make him fall again. Because Dean knew exactly how badly that could go.
"I don't regret it," Cas said then into the weird silence. Bastard angel had been reading Dean's mind again, Dean was sure, and the worst thing was that Dean was actually glad for it.
It was the easiest thing to say, "Me either."
Cas nodded once, like that solved everything, and maybe it did because then Cas gave Dean one of his half-smile things and tilted his head forward. Dean had no idea what that meant, but he hoped it was going to lead to more awesome blowjobs in the near future.
"You could've cleaned me up, too," Dean complained, teasing, looking down at the mess of sheets around his waist. He could smell sex and sweat and yeah, no way Sam could ever've missed that.
From his perch by the window Cas tipped his head which was about the closest he ever got to a shrug and told Dean solemnly, "I didn't want to wake you."
Which Dean was pretty sure was a lie, so Dean huffed a laugh and it was so easy. "C'mere," Dean said, holding out his hand, and Cas stepped around the beds and came to Dean, taking the outstretched hand and letting Dean pull him down and close until he was bent over, balancing with one hand on the mattress beside Dean. There, Dean could reach his lips, so he kissed Cas slow and soft, like he hadn't really done the night before.
From the bathroom, Dean heard the shower shutting off and realised he'd forgotten Sam was there. Again. Dean would have worried he was losing his mind or something, but Cas was close and staring at Dean with that look of his that somehow managed to be blank and soft and inviting all at the same time.
Dean would like to have stayed like that, just looking and kissing and learning each other without the crazy, heady lust of before. To not have to go anywhere, do anything but this. But there was Sam, and Sam had been gone a whole night.
And somehow he'd come back from hell.
"When you called," Dean said, his voice low. Sam was crashing around in the bathroom and they didn't have long. "I thought you were coming for Sam."
It was hard to say, his throat was dry, felt constricted. But it was kind of a relief, a weight off Dean's shoulders after weeks of worry and doubt. He didn't want to doubt.
Cas seemed to get it because he sighed and sat down beside Dean. It was space between them that Dean could have done without, but they needed to have this conversation. He needed to have this conversation. Still, Cas was close enough that Dean could feel his warmth and hear his trench coat shift and slide as he settled himself. He didn't pull his hand away from Dean's loose grip.
"I told you I've watched you," Cas said. "I wouldn't have allowed a Sam that was not Sam to deceive you. I don't believe anything could have deceived you that way."
Which was about the sweetest thing Cas had ever said to Dean.
"I know it's Sam," Dean said firmly. "I just need to know if he's..."
Human. Not crazy. Lying to me. Dean really wasn't sure what.
"The same?" Cas suggested.
Dean nodded.
"He is as he was before he fell to hell," Cas said. "He has the same taint of demon blood. Lucifer is not within him. If he is lying to you or not I couldn't say. You don't like it when I read your minds."
Dean scoffed. "You usually do it anyway."
"No, I don't."
And fuck it all but Dean believed him.
<< 1. | 3. >>