Chapter 4

Off The Deep End

A loud, cap-gun snap sounded from the air in front of him, jolting Dean out of his memory. The smell of ozone wafted into his nostrils, stinging like an ignited match’s acrid kick. Castiel had disappeared and returned inside a nano-second—too quickly for any human being to perceive his absence. Before Dean’s eyes, Cas’ serene, comforting expression and penetrating gaze, in an instant, changed to shaken, wide-eyed awe. The striking intensity gave Dean a start. Castiel was suddenly breathing heavily as if he’d been running at a sprint. The hands pressed to the sides of Dean’s face tensed and shook, slowly pulling away. Cas slumped back against the Impala, exhausted, loosening his tie.

Frowning, Dean pointedly asked, “What was that?”

Cas shook his head to indicate that he didn’t have the breath to answer and that he wouldn’t even if he did. Languidly pulling his head up out of a slump, Castiel looked up to Dean as though he was seeing him for the first time. The rush of relief overcame him. Leaning back under the influence of vertigo, he pulled his tie all the way loose, undoing the collar button of his shirt, and put a hand to his chest, wincing. “Agh! Ow… it hurts. Heh. It feels heavy—like there’s a cannonball inside my chest…”

Reaching up, Dean reflexively put a hand over Cas’ heart, feeling its roaring beat through ribs, muscle, and clothing. An affectionate smile upturned the corners of Dean’s lips, a single amused chuckle escaping him. “A heart’s a heavy burden.”

Castiel laughed as his pained expression morphed into giddy, unrestrained joy and amusement. “One that makes the rest of me feel like I’m flying.” Somehow, a simple touch from Dean salved the pain in his chest. He laid a hand over Dean’s, holding it to him. If Dean thought his hand on Cas’ chest felt hot—the angel’s was on fire.

Dean closed the distance between them, embracing the seraph, resting a hand around the back of Cas’ head, fingers combing up into his hair. “For the life of me, I can’t figure out what someone like you sees in me,” he near-whispered.

Castiel clamped his arms around Dean’s torso, tight. Wild horses… Water blurring his vision as he laughed, overjoyed at being held close rather than pushed away, Cas replied, awed, “Regardless of how hard, or how many times you were hit… no matter what life takes from you or breaks, Dean, you get back on your feet—every single time.” Dean felt the arms wrapped around him cinch hard enough to lift him.

His expression twisting sadly even though he was smiling, Dean let out a pained, wordless burst of breath. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Yes. You have,” Cas assured him, pulling back, looking for Dean to meet his gaze.

Instead, Dean looked away, tears pooling on his eyelids. Drawing back, unwilling to let go but unable to look Castiel in the eye, Dean shook his head, ashamed. “Not this time. There’s only so much a guy can take. Guess I can’t take losing you.”

Still holding Dean, though not tight or close, Cas smiled despite the pain that twisted his expression. “You’re resilient, Dean, not unbreakable. This will heal.”

Dean shook his head. “I can’t do it again, Cas. I won’t do it again. Ever. Understand me?”

Nodding, Castiel acknowledged Dean’s ask with uncanny serenity. “You’ll never have to. You have my word.”

Dean scoffed. “Just like that?”

“I nearly gave my entire existence for you. If you would rather be allowed to perish than left behind, so be it,” Cas replied with ease and grace Dean wasn’t sure he fathomed.

“Cas, after all the things I’ve done, I don’t deserve—”

“And I’m Mother-fucking-Teresa?” Dean started, taken aback. “It’s not about what we deserve, Dean. No God’s design defines our destinies anymore, but there is an order to the universe. It is now what it always should have been; the current of an ocean, not unchangeable fate. Something defined in words and etched in stone. It only takes us to where we want to be if we choose, and let it. Who we are for each other has only ever been about the choices we made. I choose you… whatever that looks like for you. Whichever way you want me, you will have me.” Castiel’s hand had found its way up around Dean’s back as he spoke, not pressing him closer, just resting; assuring and soothing.

Dean stared at Cas, wide-eyed from a potent mixture of awe and carnal fear. He was suddenly keenly aware that he was slumped up against the angel and pinning him against the side of the Impala from breast to thigh, with nothing but need to blame for the heat and swollen, stiff flesh standing cozy beside his in much the same state. He needed badly for there to be no clothing between them. The rush of want forced him to breathe in deep, put him in a daze, and weighed his eyelids down. With a slight turn of his head, no longer looking at Cas sidelong, Dean instead ventured closer to a kiss with every passing moment.

Dean scoffed. “You’re off the deep end,” he accused under his breath, speaking from near enough to feel the angel’s breath on his lips.

Castiel smiled, laughing, without a care for the fact it moved his body against Dean weighing down on him. An appropriate description of where he was currently treading water in his emotional reservoir. “I am, and there’s nowhere else I choose to be.”

It came over him again. A diffuse wave of pressure poured over Dean from behind—the harbinger of a rising tide—washing him up onto the shoreline of the angel in his arms and depositing him there. Cas closed his eyes, letting himself be kissed, drinking in the taste of Dean’s lips and tongue. He breathed in the scents of him—sweat, dirt, grass, jeans, leather, whiskey, fear, overwhelming lust, and all—like it quenched a potent thirst he should have died of long ago. Dean’s hand wandered down, finding its way into the small of Castiel’s back. The moment Dean pulled their hips together, he ground his hardening cock into the angel’s pelvis, weak-kneed for the feeling of Cas’ penis, hot, hard, and bulging beside his.

“Mmph!” Castiel’s moan mixed with a cry of surprise muffled by Dean’s forceful kiss. The angel’s pelvis jerked back, having been thoroughly unprepared for the electric jolt of sensation stimulation sparked.

Dean pulled back and let him loose, shocked by the sound and recoil. “Sorry! Did I pinch…?”

Then, let go there—to leave something of himself behind. Dean’s movements turned frantic. Cas’ tie was off before the seraph caught his breath. Pulling him off the side of the car, Dean quickly had his coat and jacket off his shoulders, arms freed, tossing the bundle of clothing over Baby’s roof.

Dean’s hands went for his belt tongue, then the buttons on his shirt. Cas put his hands over Dean’s, stopping him and leaving the man no choice but to look him in the eye. Half-clothed and over-too-soon against the side of the Impala, bent over the hood or trunk, was not how he wanted things to go down. Castiel didn’t have to say anything, and Dean understood.

Dean kissed him tenderly. Taking controlled, measured breaths, he backed away, awed at the loving feeling flooding from his heart. “Gimme a minute.”

Cas nodded, stood up off the side of the car, opened up the door to the back seat, tossing his coat, jacket, and tie into the back. One shoe and sock were off before he set foot inside. He climbed in, tucking seatbelt buckles away, seating himself with one barefoot leg up. Undoing his buttons halfway down his shirt, Cas recoiled, surprised and snickering mischievously as a string of condoms and bottle of lubricant flew past his face, landing on the panel behind the back seat. His shed boot and sock preceding him, Dean ducked into the back seat and, looking up, froze. Castiel paused when he saw Dean’s expression—an odd mixture of disbelief and sheer excitement.

“I… uh…” Dean let out a low, slow whistle. “Not quite what I’m used to seeing waiting back here when I break out the love-gloves.”

“I can fix that.” Smiling and chuckling, Cas took hold of Dean by the lapels, hauling him bodily into the back seat.

“Wuh… whoa! Haha…!” Still laughing, Dean found himself pulled into a firm, hungry kiss he had no desire to fight. As crushing as Castiel’s mouth was, there was a tenderness to the way he wrapped his hand around Dean’s head; his fingertips applied a raking, massaging pressure to a place at the base of Dean’s neck that melted and drove him wild at the same time. An open, tongued kiss made his heart skip beats, emptying his lungs of breath by the time it was over. Dean pulled back, hastily shucking off his jacket and overshirt.

Reaching back and latching his toes into the door handle, Dean pulled it shut behind him. They were already overheating enough to turn skin slick from a bit of over-the-clothes action. Castiel stripped off his last sock, beginning work on his belt buckle. Dean put a heavy hand down over Cas’.

The angel looked up, reading him in his unabashed way. Flushed and eager, his heart pounding, stiff enough under his jeans to rival an actual tent pole, and still, Dean had stopped him. “There’s next to nothing I wouldn’t do, Dean, including refraining from whatever you don’t want.”

Surprise and a lopsided smile appeared on Dean’s face. “I want to do it myself.”

Cas, surprised in turn, drew his hands away and lie back, preparing to lift his hips and move his legs as needed. Dean’s subdued smile balanced itself out as he undid Cas’ belt, unbuttoned his slacks’ waist, and unzipped the fly. Cas settled onto his elbows, compliant, enjoying being undressed and assessed by Dean’s intense stare and kneading grasp in a way he never had with anyone who’d come before.

Dean pressed his palms and fingers into the tight-knit muscle of Cas’ backside and thighs as he worked his pants down to above his knees. The prospect of what those abs, that ass, and these thighs could do for him had Dean flushing genuinely red in the face. To say nothing of the swelling arch the angel’s boxers were doing little to restrain and no longer entirely concealing.

Blinking, Dean realized he’d stopped what he was doing in favour of getting lost in kneading at Cas’ thighs and hamstrings, taking in the sight of him. He looked up to see the devious smile his shameless enjoyment of the angel’s body had inspired. His breath left him. Taking in a deeper, steadying breath, Dean closed the distance between them, planting a kiss on the angel that left Cas feeling drugged.

“Dean…”
Cas trailed off when Dean met his gaze with a look and smile in his eyes that said he knew what Cas intended to say and, unspoken, said it in kind. A smile formed on Cas’ lips, turned to a Cheshire grin, then became exulted, mad-as-a-hatter laughter. The increasingly unstable edge to it made Dean uneasy. Sensing it, Cas reigned himself in, tears leaving shining trails down his face from the outside corners of his eyes. Reaching up, resting his hand on Dean’s cheek, Cas apologized, “I’m sorry. I’m all right. It’s… that was… whoo! This, is… it’s real.” His last few bouts of easing laughter petered out as he wiped water away from his eyes.

Resting a hand over the one Cas had on his cheek, Dean ever-so-slightly smiled and nodded. He scooted back on the seat, slipping the cuffs of Cas’ slacks past his heels. Castiel sat forward the instant he was freed from his pants, running his hands up underneath Dean’s T-shirt, turning it inside out as it peeled over his head and off his arms. The sight gave Cas pause. Moonlight and the rising humidity in the car gave Dean’s edges an ethereal, radiant quality, as though surrounded by a glowing haze. Along with the memory of Dean’s unspoken “I love you”, Castiel etched the moments into his memory for eternity. He would remember them with perfect clarity until he ceased to exist.

The admiring, loving look on Cas’ face lit something in Dean that burned clean through his self-restraint. He had his jeans and briefs down below his knees before the angel could offer any help. Cas laid back, never taking his eyes off the sight of Dean kneeling on the seat, flushed, stripped, hard and dripping, the back of his head and neck butted up against Baby’s roof. Pushing his boxers down far as he could without the flexibility of a contortionist, Cas lay his engorged cock bare, arched straight back onto his stomach, dark-skinned and blushing deep red.

Dean froze, fixated on the sight; torn, not by whether or not he wanted to sex the angel in front of him silly, but by whether or not he wanted to give, rather than receive, a blowjob for someone he loved for the first time. Anything and everything he wanted to do to the angel woke up; every last one of them determined to be first in line. With no clear frontrunner, he could do nothing other than stare.

“Dean…” Cas’ voice snapped him out of his trance.

“Huh?”

In a low voice, chuckling, Castiel assured him, “This won’t be the last time.” Dean’s heart seized in his chest; it didn’t sound like a promise, more like statement of fact.

Dean believed him. A slight smile and a gentle laugh escaped Dean as he reached down, taken over by an odd peace, sliding the last piece of Cas’ clothing off his legs on his way to lay over the angel. Their cocks enveloped, side by side, in a burning space between their stomachs, Dean captured Castiel’s lips with a slow, hungry kiss. He ground his groin against Cas, their kiss breaking at an involuntary moan from them both. As if the sounds had a taste, their tongues, each, in turn, went looking for more, rewarded with the little noises they uttered with nearly every press of their hips.

Cas surged beneath him, on the ragged edge of release. Dean put a hand on the angel’s hipbone, stopping things. Not yet. There was something he wanted first. He met Cas’ quizzical gaze, giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Help me.” Dean sat back against the door and worked with Cas to remove his remaining footwear and clothing. Cas tossed his jeans over the front seatback and brought his hand back, drifting to Dean’s stomach, letting it slide, following a trail of shorthair down to his groin. The angel rested it there, moving his thumb and fingers in subtle, massaging ways, cradling Dean’s hard-on between his thumb and forefinger. Enjoying the feeling of his hot, sweating skin, his wavy, thick yet soft shorthair and full gonads, pulling themselves higher into the firm, heated caress of his palm.

Cas looked up to him the moment Dean shivered, losing his remaining breath to a sigh. Dean wanted this so badly he couldn’t keep breath in his lungs before even getting started. His cock twitched in Cas’ hand, eager, his hips moving against Cas’ grasp. Far and away beyond shame, his body and soul needed this and nothing else mattered. Reaching over the back seat for a packet, Dean tore it open, sleeving the condom onto his middle two fingers, waiting while Cas’ hand explored how to pleasure him.

Dean’s touch found the angel’s forearm. With wordless understanding, Castiel laid back, legs full-spread, taking his balls in hand, lifting them clear, alternately kneading them and stroking his hard-on, unhurried. Dean drizzled gel onto his cock, smoothing it around, and leaving himself so well coated he was dripping.

His gloved digits covered with gel as well, he pressed his palm against Cas’ taint, rubbing the pads of his fingers around the cinched skin and muscle he aimed to relax. Dean enjoyed listening to the angel’s pleasure for a minute before he let himself go any further, dabbing kisses onto the seraph’s breast. Cas’ hand left his sack and began to feel its way down over Dean’s, pressing.

Chuckling, Dean ducked down, planting a kiss on Cas’ solar plexus. The angel’s skin jumped under his lips. “Tryin’ to tell me somethin’?” Dean asked, mischievous.

A pleasured growl sounded from Cas’ mouth. “Yes!” rolled out of his throat over gravel rougher than anything Dean had ever heard from him. An impish smile formed on Dean’s face. If rumour proved true and Cas was enjoying himself so well now, he was definitely going to like what came next. Dean pushed his fingers through and in, earning the side of his head a caress he leaned into, as Cas let out a surprised, ecstatic cry. Dean kissed the wrist slipping away from him as Cas slackened, immediately setting his fingers to work in the soft flesh he knew he’d find a buried pleasure trove behind.

Castiel quickly realized the intention of the exercise: to Dean’s surprise, the angel’s back gate relaxed entirely. If Cas thought he was getting off the hook that easily, he was mistaken. Dean pressed deeper against a stiff bulb near his fingertips. It rolled out from under his touch when Cas recoiled in shock. Chasing it down, Dean had his fingers do a firm, tight dance on and around it. The sensation contorted a body that clocked in a little better than a couple hundred pounds with unbelievable ease.

A loud moan burst out of the instantly wide-eyed seraph, his chest and stomach heaving as Dean persisted at messing with his bud and engorged cock from inside. Then, Cas started moving, rocking himself over the ends of Dean’s fingers. It occurred to him the angel might very well have found a spot he really liked. His fingers took to harder, tiny strokes that left the seraph feeling like an overheating electrical wire threaded from the piece of him Dean insisted on playing with, through his body, had wrapped itself around the core feeling in his chest, winding itself down tight.

Whatever Dean asked for in answer to his question, he’d have done, and Dean knew it. The seraph guided Dean’s lips back to his, and his only response was the deep kiss he held Dean into until they both needed air.

Dean’s playful fingers strained to be inside him to the hilt and stilled as they kissed. Unable to resist a meandering stroke as Dean slipped out of him, he swiftly discarded the condom into the shadows and cast-off clothing obscuring the floor. They moved.

A solitary instant passed for Dean, when Cas turned away in their reverie, leaving him alone in his memories, only to reappear, awestruck and breathlessly in love like he hadn’t been the moment before. Castiel, on the other hand, lived twenty-four years during the fraction of a second he’d gone back in time.

Astride Dean’s legs, Cas let himself sink onto Dean, facing Baby’s front seat, gradually enveloping him, safeguarded from going too fast by Dean’s broad, spreading, supporting hands—one on each cheek, his pinky fingers pressed to where Cas’ flesh slowly swallowed his. The ecstatic intimacy proved every second of all twenty-four years worth the wait. A euphoric shiver started in his thighs, spreading to his abdomen and arms, the more he took in. There was mild pain. To the relief of his backside’s aching flesh, he found it vastly outweighed by pleasure saturating him.

Chest heaving and his heart pounding, Cas went slack, taking Dean’s hardened organ full and deep. Lying back into Dean’s chest, his head fell back over his shoulder, his cheek resting against the side of Dean’s neck. Letting out a sound that was at once a moan and blissful sigh as Cas’ weight settled onto his thighs, Dean lifted himself into the angel, unable to help or stop himself.

The unexpected spike of ecstasy cut Cas’ strings, the high leaving him laughing the way a tickle would. He lifted a hand, looking to reach back and caress Dean’s face but found his arm already behaving as though numb. Dean wrapped his arms around him, holding him close, his breath both hot and breezy on his shoulder. Working at rocking beneath him, he laid a kiss on Cas’ neck, on the soft skin beneath his ear. Whichever nerves Dean was hitting inside him set off a firework every time he plowed forward.

Picking up Cas’ fallen hand from underneath, Dean intertwined their fingers. Bringing their hands to rest front and center on Cas’s pelvis, Dean curled his fingers down tight. “Show me.”

Cas’ affectionate laughter, sounding right beside his ear, sent shivers through him. Someone had done his homework, Cas mused, shifting his hips to angle Dean’s erection forward, getting at his feel-good flesh even better. The man’s lips parted against the plane between his neck and shoulder, allowing a sharp intake of breath in at the new friction on his string and cleft. His lips opened wider still against Cas’ skin, the touch edging dangerously close to an outright bite. Turning and covering Dean’s hand with his own, Cas moved their hands to rest underneath the tails of his shirt and his throbbing hard-on, pressing their exploring fingers down deep into the flat of his pelvis.

A shaking moan escaped Cas’ lips, and a new tremble started at his center, rippling outward. The two intuitively understood they’d found what they were looking for. Trusting Cas to guide him around the front, Dean moved his hips underneath the seraph and found himself rewarded by contractions in the muscle enfolding him, shaming even the tightest snatch he’d ever enjoyed.

Pleasured, wordless utterances were all that sounded from Cas until he whispered, blissfully dazed, in the space of a slow reprieve, “Can we…hmnnnh! Stay like this forever…?” Castiel trailed off, giving himself up to the euphoric fog taking him over, heading lolling into Dean’s. Hiding the words under his breath betrayed the fact that it was a thought—a prayer—he hadn’t meant to say aloud.

Smiling and quietly laughing against the slope between Cas’ neck and shoulder, Dean slid his hand down Cas’ pelvis, through drips of precum running down his skin, wrapping his fingers tight around the base of the angel’s rigid cock. The grip elicited a sound akin to a growl. “Don’t know about forever, but, mmn… heh, I’ll do what I can to help this last.” Renewing his efforts, Dean brought his other hand ’round Cas’ front, finding its massaging place again. He mercilessly played at the angel’s prostate from both sides. Cas, in turn, rocked and lifted his hips when he could, riding Dean’s straddled lap, keeping time with his movements.

Heart racing madly in his chest, the feeling building behind the cinched fingers wrapped around his cock curled his back and hooked Cas’ head backward over Dean’s shoulder. His vision blurred, and soon, Cas was in the grips of a burning tingling in the furthest extremities of his limbs. His cock, colored a dark, purpling red, still tied at the base by Dean’s unyielding, steely grasp, became nearly agonizingly swollen beyond normal measure. Dean’s hand gave his cock a tight, short tug with every stroke’s recoil; a sweet, maddening agony. As little as he wanted it to be over, the body he occupied needed what came next as inevitably as it obeyed the laws of gravity.

“Dean…” Cas breathed, somehow both taut and slack with pleasure. “Let go.” Dean released the fingers circled tight around the angel’s twitching, precumming organ, giving smooth, quick, caressing strokes instead. Wrapping his hand over his angel’s pubic bone he held Cas’ body close against the fast, steady rhythm of his canting pelvis.

The creeping ember-burn in Cas’ feet, hands, the back of his head, and groin seemingly hit the edge of an accelerant. His whole body shuddered as it burned, hips frantically snapping forward then back, his cock tapping his stomach in the throes of the highest peaks of ecstasy. The angel arched his back, uttering unrestrained, pleasure-induced cries that only ceased whenever he needed to breathe again. Dean never stopped moving. In the heights of the seraph’s release, he drove into him relentlessly, pushing out another burst of cum with every stroke until no more than drops were left to squeeze out.

Castiel tried to wrap one hand around the back of Dean’s head. Moving as if made of soft rubber, his hand gently found Dean’s cheekbone. Cas used that as his guide, running it back over Dean’s ear until he could set his palm to rest on the back of his lover’s head, his fingers raking through Dean’s hair as they curled in, holding him close.

Hot breath from Dean’s quick bout of deep laughter hit Cas’ skin. “Right behind you. Keep it tight for me.”

Cas nodded languidly, still mostly gone on a wave of pleasure. A hand on either side of Cas’ chest coaxed him into leaning forward, with one arm draped over the back of the front seat, the other braced against it, breathless. With the freedom of an extra inch and some to move, Dean let his hands fall to rest on Cas’ hips, withdrawing his pelvis while rocking the angel forward for every stroke. He pulled them back together with a speed and steady rhythm that swiftly sent him over the edge, cumming into the delicate, searing warmth wrapped tight around him.

Making no effort to restrain his bucking hips or ecstatic, grateful moans, Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel, latched a hand on the seatback in front of him, and drove himself closer and deeper with every surge of release. Each one lifted the seraph. Gripped by euphoric, breathless panic as jolts of pleasure from that incredible node within tangled up with the rush of Dean throbbing hard inside him, moved by unfettered need and without shame, Cas finally snapped. Collapsing, the angel hung limply over the front seat, letting himself be buzzed and moved by Dean’s chaotic, feverish rutting until his need ebbed.

Laying one arm over Cas’, Dean laid himself to rest on the angel’s back, sweat dripping down off the back of his neck, the underside of his jaw, darkening spots on the dress shirt between them. His breathing shaking along with the rest of him, Dean nestled into Cas, making space between their bodies as nonexistent as he could manage. His other arm found its way to resting over Cas’ leg. He took the seraph’s softening cock in hand and gave it a few slow, tight strokes, running a caressing finger over and around Cas’ retreating tip. Dean let his hand remain where it was and go limp, fingers wrapped around Cas’ penis, the very last of the angel’s cum collected on and dripping from his fingertips.

A briny, meaty smell not his own wafted to him on the air. Dean filled his lungs, getting to know it, every fiber in him going limp as he exhaled, eyes watering. Cas. He closed his eyes and let go, floating on the swells of the still-heaving back underneath his cheek and the euphoria of emptying himself to the last for the first time in days. His strokes ever so small, Dean’s hips kept moving, in love with the quietly squelching, sweltering cum-lubed slide back and forth.

Their ecstasies gradually subsided, and neither felt the urge to separate. Castiel brought his feet in to rest on their soles rather than leave them awkwardly splayed out on the floor. The movement elicited a grunt from Dean, whom, still inside Cas, had been unexpectedly squeezed. The shot of pleasure gave him the jolt he needed to wake up, sit up, blink his vision clear, and look around the car interior to find enough clothing to form something soft and raised lay their heads on.

Nerves still buzzing, Cas reached back for his shirt collar, pulling the soaked, sticking garment off overhead, depositing it in the front seat. Dean’s arms wrapped around his abdomen as he led the fall into lying on their sides in the afterglow. Spreading Cas’ overcoat over their lower halves, Dean reached over their heads, cracking open the window. He settled into lying together with the angel in a space now conspicuously absent the sounds of sex.

Biting the inside of his lower lip, a muted laugh moved Dean as he rested his forehead against the back of Cas’ head and sighed. “This back seat has seen somethin’ new.”

“Mmn. Is that a good thing?” the seraph asked, a little dopey, enjoying Dean’s brief kiss on the back of his neck, the shiver Dean’s breath on his spit-wet skin gave him, and Dean’s cheek’s warmth smothering it.

“Mmm-hmm,” Dean murmured, chuckling. “Very.” The word’s deep timbre landed on his ears like honey. Chilled air wafting in through the cracked-open window provided welcome contrast to the heat kicked out by two human furnaces sprawled out across Baby’s back seat. Inside and out, Dean serenely accepted that he now looked back over his personal Rubicon’s waters from the shore opposite where he’d stood at sundown.

Water started to pool in his eyes in the moments preceding a question that just popped out. “How?” Dean’s meaning required marginal intuiting at most.

“Jack. He, uh…” Castiel laughed and squirmed closer into Dean’s chest and embrace. “He spent the better part of eight thousand years mercilessly pranking the Shadow. Eventually, the Shadow gave in to releasing me—no strings attached.”

A fond smile curled Dean’s lips up as he heartily chuckled. “Chip right off the ol’ blocks, huh?”

“He certainly is. My favourite one involved a boobytrapped vat of Hell’s effluence. I will be shocked if It ever gets that stench out.”

Dean’s hand wandered up and covered the side of his face not wedged down between their clothing and Cas’ head as he replied in disbelief, stretching and laughing. “What the fuck?”

“Mmm-hmmm. A particularly inspired one involved blackstrap molasses—a lot of it—and goose down feathers,” Cas recounted, sniggering all along. Laughter was shaking both of them now. Dean sighed, trying to recover his breath. “I believe the exact words It shouted after us were: if I ever see your face again, I will vomit your ass right back out. I don’t care where you spend your afterlife, but you will never spend another instant here!!”

“Hnh. Heh heh. An’ how does that work, exactly?” Dean asked, his laughter cooled down despite his amusement with a slight frown on his face.

“I’m not sure. Seems I’m… something of a celestial no-fly zone. Even my brothers and sisters are giving me conspicuously wide berth. Haven’t caught so much as a whiff of hellspawn…” Distracted, Dean began to lightly run his fingers over the angry red handprint discolouring the skin under Cas’ shoulder blade as he took in his story. It was in the skin—a rebirthmark—he would carry it for life. The ruddy-colored skin was more sensitive than the rest. Dean’s feather-light touch of fingertips and fingernails running around it gave Cas a hazy pleasure that dropped his head onto their makeshift pillow, eyelids drooping closed.

Swallowing down the urge he was feeling, Dean continued tracing his fingers over Cas’ skin along lines of muscle and bone. It took a minute before he realized he was absentmindedly nuzzling his nose and forehead into the back of the angel’s head.

Eyelids closing as a half-smile turned up his lips, Castiel relaxed completely into Dean’s embrace and let him have whatever his lover’s touch came to him looking for. Dean’s hand wandered to his chest, fingers toying with the nipple squeezed between them. A pleasured shiver and subtle moan were Dean’s reward. He folded the arm Cas was lying on, resting his hand on the angel’s head, threading his fingers back through his damp, dark hair.

Pressing his rump back into Dean, asking an unspoken question, Cas smiled when Dean tightened around him from head to feet, sucking in a hitched breath. Head pulled back, throat exposed, letting his eyes fall closed, Castiel rubbed himself into the hand on his head, all the while enjoying the fact that Dean’s other hand seemed to be working its way closer to his groin.

That hand pulled him close, fingers sinking in dangerously close to his prostate. Dean pressed his pelvis forward, his hardening cock moving between Cas’ cheeks. Moving like that tended a persistent itch he couldn’t resist scratching—again, again… and again. Suddenly, Dean stopped himself cold, clearing his throat, giving his head a violent twist and shake as though trying to shake something off. His neck popped. “Cas, assuming this is your, uh, first time—”

“It is.”

Forcing himself to relax, Dean tried to breathe normally again. He failed. “Are you good…” Cas flexed his ass against his dick. He bit down on his words to keep a moan in. “Good to go again?” Dean asked through heavy breathing. The drive to continue had him shaking.

“I don’t have a choice…” For him, both in needs of heart and body, there wasn’t one, but Dean didn’t understand it that way.

Dean went wide-eyed, dismayed. “That whatever-you-don’t-want thing goes both ways, Cas. You always have a choice. This isn’t just about what I want. If you’re too raw—”

Turning his upper body so that he could look Dean in the eye sidelong, Cas reached back over his side with one hand, looking for and finding Dean’s. “If I want you to stop, I’ll tell you.” Drawing up his knee, he offered what Dean asked for, the remnants of the last round dripping down his skin.

Eyes closing, leaning his forehead into the side of Cas’ head, Dean nodded gratefully, helpless against the drive to have the angel again as he’d never been with anyone. Dean rose to his knees, wrapping one arm behind Cas. Taking hold of him by the side of the neck, he could feel the angel’s pounding pulse beneath the skin. Cas moved to turn himself down, having guessed that Dean had wanted him as he was the first time because he wasn’t comfortable looking him in the eye during the act.

“Wait. Don’t,” Dean said. Cas cocked his head to the side, complying, blindsided and gratified by how rapidly Dean seemed to be scaling his learning curve. Confused for a moment, as though forgetting something, Dean’s hand snatched up the lube bottle, sparing nothing as he poured it over his cock, hand underneath, cradling himself, to catch any drips.

Dean closed in for a long, deep kiss, initiating their return to intimacy with his free hand. The very same act buried him, thick and throbbing, inside his angel. Gentle and slow at first, Dean gave in, thrusting his hips down hard with deliberate and fluid control. Every stroke landed like a drumbeat, with a reverberating force that churned Cas’ innards, setting off a chain reaction that snaked through his nerves and culminated in an ecstatic grunt emanating from the bottom of his chest. Dean’s kisses never stopped. He took his breath when he needed it, but their lips never fully parted. The air in every breath he took belonged to Castiel before him.

When Dean drew away at the last to brace and chase down release for his angel, then himself only seconds later, Castiel found he cared somewhat less for breathing without Dean’s immediate warmth and smell in the air. A smile formed on Cas’ lips when Dean returned to them, the instinctive jerking action of his pelvis needing no further conscious guidance. Cas found himself kissed hard and moaned into when Dean unexpectedly struck his own nerve—one that made him believe there was another release in him to have if he wanted it badly enough. He unquestionably did.

Because of and with utter disregard for the hypersensitive state of his cock, Dean went after the sensation his sparking nerves had promised him with an intense vigor that both amazed and burned the angel beneath him alive. Dean certainly wasn’t averse to making some noise. Still, a handful of the cries that escaped him had a pitch, volume, and uninhibited expression of pleasure in them that made even someone as shamelessly sexual as him thankful only one person on the planet could hear them.

Soon, the question became not whether or not he could find release again, but rather if he could stave it off long enough to give Cas something for it in return. The moment remorseful doubt flickered across his face, Castiel put his hand to feverish work on his cock.

A new shuddering in the soft walls and lasso of muscle tight around his hard-on told Dean they’d done it; the quaking spread throughout the body in his arms. He let himself go over the edge in the moments that followed. Dean collapsed on top of Castiel, breathing hard, sweat dripping off of him, so tapped out he could hardly move, hips still moving on their own.

Dazed and in awe of the loving feeling permeating him, Cas wrapped himself around Dean in every way he could, holding on to him as if there had never existed and never would exist a soul he loved more thoroughly and wholly.

Dean took in a sudden, sharp breath and made a noise that sounded distinctly painful. His hand, hanging off the seat’s edge, lifelessly limp, came back from the dead, taking hold of the muscle on the inside of his leg.

“Dean…? What’s wrong?”

His breathing now pained, quick, and shallow, Dean, unable to help laughing, responded, “Shit! My penis thinks I’m twenty-five again. The rest of me thinks I’m an idiot.” Inhaling sharply, Dean grimaced. One bitch of a charley horse was trying to take over his leg. Cas couldn’t help chuckling along with him. Castiel reached a hand down to work a little angelic magic on the cramping muscle.

Pushing it away, Dean pinned his hand down on Baby’s back seat. “Forget it, Cas. You couldn’t heal the cuts and bruises you showed up with. No way am I letting you spend yourself on a few tweaking muscles.”

“What can I do—?”

Dean smiled. Persistent son of a bitch. “Holy water in the trunk. Grab it. All of it.” Without another word, Cas began picking up pieces of clothing, looking for his boxers. The fact that they were dark didn’t help with locating them in the slightest. Dean dug into the pile of clothing under their heads for his jacket, then the keys in the pocket.

Keys in hand and barefoot, Cas exited the car door and made his way, limping quickly, over the irregular gravel to the trunk. Ignoring the cold air and the way rivulets of sweat running down his skin everywhere made it feel much chillier, Cas rifled through the trunk’s contents and quickly found a couple of holy water flasks and a small hand-held jug besides that.

He returned to the Impala’s warm, humid interior, closing the door behind him after brushing a few stuck pebbles off the soles of his feet. Tossing one of the flasks onto the upholstered shelf behind the seats, Cas unscrewed the cap on the other, handing it to Dean. Draining a whole flask was barely enough to wet Dean’s throat and take the edge off the gravel in his voice. Cas swallowed a mouthful from the jug himself, intent on leaving the contents of the flasks for Dean.

Having left himself uncovered, a beckoning wave of Dean’s hand invited Cas back into bed. Dean cleared his throat, his voice returning to normal after a few words. “Whether it’s a good idea or not, please take those off,” he asked, referring to Cas’ underwear. He wanted nothing between them. Seconds later, with a quiet laugh and naught on but an amused smirk, Castiel crawled back onto the seat, fitting himself in front of Dean. Contact with Dean’s cramping leg made the man gasp and wince, and Cas reached down for the leg again. Dean seized his hand without saying anything.

“I don’t want this to be unpleasant for you.”

Oddly, it was a nod and a smile that prefaced Dean’s reply. His breathing was deep and controlled, belying that he was putting his considerable focus and force of will to the task of releasing taut muscles. “I’ll recover the good ol’ fashioned way.” He paused, considering how to explain himself. “You know how something sour and sweet tastes better than something that’s one or the other?” Dean asked as he visibly relaxed, having managed to extricate himself from the worst of the spasm.

“Yes.” Nodding, Cas made the last adjustments to his body that brought them as close together as he could manage.

“Same deal,” Dean replied, pulling Cas’ coat and his jacket over them, glad to be keeping heat in again.

“It tastes as good as it does because of the contrast. Not despite it.”

“Bingo.” Smiling and laughing, Dean relaxed and let the second flask fall to the floor, empty. He’d managed to stave off the cramp entirely and loosen his leg up again. Relief from the pain brought on a dizzying high of its own. Still, he was wary of a flare-up.

A momentary frown showed on Cas’ face, as he recalled something learned long ago. “I understand.” Slapping someone you love—inflicting pain—during sex made considerably more sense now.

Dean wrapped an arm over his chest, settling down to rest. Castiel interwove his fingers between Dean’s, his thumb unconsciously taking to stroking along bone and tendon. Lying together in silence, each let the other know they were there with them in whatever minuscule way they felt the urge to—a brush of the nose to the back of the neck, grazing fingers over skin, leaving a tingling sensation wherever they went. Rubbing the top of a foot behind the other’s calf with toes curled around them. Butterfly kisses to whatever skin was handy. Curious fingers combing down wayward tufts of hair, above and below.

Soon, Dean couldn’t fight back the drowsing taking him over anymore. “I’d stay awake with you, Cas, but I’m fading fast.”

Chuckling fondly, Castiel replied, “I would sleep with you, but…” Sighing and smiling contently, he lay his head down to rest with Dean’s. “I can’t,” he murmured. Dean had gone limp and let go of consciousness before the angel finished what he was saying.

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