Archive of Our Own ^beta

"I want your power glowing
Juicy flowing
Red hot
Meaning of Life"
Meaning of Life -- Disturbed

Dean is never really sure when Cas is going to show up these days.

He likes to keep them guessing.

Dean assumes it’s so they never really know who exactly he visits first when he does decide to show back up in their lives.

Dude is smart like that.

Not that Dean is really the jealous type.

At least not anymore.

Not for this, anyway.

He’ll be honest, which he’s trying to more and more these days, the situation had bothered him a little in the beginning.

When Dean had finally, as his brother would so lovingly phrase it, pulled his head out of his own ass and admitted, at least to himself, that there were feelings inside him for Cas that were neither friendly nor platonic, it just so happened to be right around the time he realized that Sam was having those same kinds of feelings.

And that was all kinds of weird for him to come to terms with, especially when he thought about, like, just how much better at relationships and talking about his feelings and being a general good human Sam was most of the time.

Dean knew, if he pushed the issue of there being competition between the two of them, then it definitely would’ve existed even though Sam would’ve backed down.

Dean doesn’t think Sam had even meant to get involved with Cas. Dean is pretty damn sure Cas hadn’t meant to get involved with Sam either.

But the thing is…

The thing is that Dean had seen Cas when the dude got back to the bunker from the motel after dropping Sam off in his room.

Kid sleeping off the effects of the curse (and some other stuff) and unaware of the true danger he’d been in just hours prior.

Including the overload of grace he’d had to take to burn the curse out of him without killing him.

He remembers the way Cas had looked when he finally walked into Dean’s room and sat down on the end of his bed.

His entire body had just seemed to sag in a way Dean had never seen before.

He’d looked…

Dean isn’t even sure of the word to use for how Cas had looked.

Haunted seems fitting, although that word also doesn’t do enough justice.

Cas had looked broken in a way.

He’d told Dean what had happened, what had been done to Sam with the lock box and the curse.

As much as he knew of the curse, anyway.

He’d told Dean the complete truth about what it had taken to fix it all.

Dean isn’t sure what Cas had been expecting from him in that moment, that post-confession silence.

Dean isn’t even sure what he’d been expecting of himself then.

But he’s sure crawling to Cas on his knees across the bed and wrapping his arms around the guy, whispering a gentle “thank you for saving him” into his ear had definitely come as a surprise.

It had surprised him too, to be honest.

But Cas had looked so fucking sad that Dean just wanted to fix it somehow.

Cas had attempted a smile at him, failed, and dropped his head into Dean’s chest with a shuddered breath.

Dean had held Cas through the night, surprised and quietly delighted when the angel had actually fallen asleep in his arms.

When he’d woken, Cas had been gone, of course, but he wasn’t far away.

Although it had gone every instinct ingrained in his very bones Dean had allowed Cas to do the doctoring of Sam those days and weeks post-curse.

He kind of figured Cas needed it more than he did. Making sure Sam was fine, after everything he believed he put Sam through.

He didn’t mind taking the back seat this one time.

He kind of figured Sam needed it, too.

Considering what he’d gone through.

Both with the curse and with Cas.

Cad had checked Sam over multiple times with his grace to make sure the curse was really gone and there were no adverse effects of something called ‘grace poisoning’ which, yes, is apparently also a thing.

He knew he was doing the right thing for Cas when with every checkup Cas gave Sam the weight around his shoulders and the darkness around his eyes seemed to lift just a little bit more.

He would watch from the doorway as Cas touched Sam’s forehead with gentle hands, watching over him with gentle eyes, and would know deep in his heart that there was more to the story than just Sam having feelings for Cas.

It was in the way that Cas touched him, and spoke to him, and looked at him.

It was in the little indulgent smile that Cas would give Sam when he batted Cas’ hands away, grumbling, “I’m fine” whenever Cas would try to check on him, but would then smile, an almost secret little tilt to his lips when Cas would narrow his eyes and touch him anyway.

Cas fussed over Sam, in a way that Dean tried but didn’t quite manage. All soft words and gentle authority. And Sam? Sam allowed it with barely a complaint. Any argument he would attempt to give, with one pointed glance from Cas’ icy blues, would stifle.

Dean knew in the way that Cas would pull off his trench coat and sit on the edge of Sam’s bed when he slept and touch fingertips to Sam’s forehead, a barely there touch when Sam’s eyebrows would furrow, and smooth away the nightmares that were plaguing him that night.

It was the same way Cas usually treated him, though Dean usually accepted it with much less graciously, so Dean knew.

Cas had feelings back.

That much was almost painfully obvious.

The exact type of feelings Dean didn’t know and didn’t want to examine too closely.

Dude was still lusting after his kid brother, after all, and it was all sorts of weird for him to think about the kinds of things Cas had gotten up to with Sam.

And he definitely tried to extinguish the jealousy that came from the fact that Sam got to touch and be touched by Cas before he did.

And it was doubly weird when things had started with them, for Dean, knowing what had happened, and was still happening, between Sam and Cas.

It was not intentional on Dean’s part at all.

At least he doesn’t think it was.

Even though he’d loved Cas for longer than he’d ever admit to himself or anyone else, he wasn’t going to do anything about it.

Especially not with Sam being head over heels for the guy as he was. So much so that a witches’ curse that could only be broken by loves’ true kiss or whatever was broken by Cas and his apparently magical dick.

Do not think about Cas’ dick and Sam, Dean, jesus fucking christ.

The point is, Dean wasn’t going to do anything about it after learning, and seeing, and knowing, that there was more to Sam and Cas.

Except that, like all things in his life, operation Leave Cas The Fuck Alone did not go according to plan.

He’d gone out on a hunt solo; choosing to let Sam stay at the bunker for a little longer to rest.

It was a simple salt and burn.

Nothing he couldn’t handle.

Except it had been a bit more than that, because of course it was, and Dean had ended up with a broken collarbone and had barely been able to get himself back to the motel for the agony burning in his chest.

He’d been in bed, gasping for air, unable to even reach for his bag where the painkillers were, when the angel had appeared in his motel room.

Dean doesn’t even remember having called for him, but in retrospect had felt bad for not doing so immediately.

Cas had healed him, of course he did, but Dean thinks the trauma of seeing him injured in a motel room after a hunt gone bad so soon after seeing and dealing with Sam the exact same way had been too much for Cas to deal with.

He’d been a shaky mess when the healing was done, and as he’d gone to leave Dean to his peace and four hours, Dean had stopped him with a hand on his arm.

Thank you had turned into a hug because it looked like the guy needed it.

Maybe he did, too.

Maybe he just needed to be touched with a gentle hand after so long.

Maybe he just wanted to feel like he still mattered to Cas.

Maybe he just wanted to feel like he still mattered at all.

He isn’t sure.

And he isn’t sure who kissed who first, but he knows that his brother being in love with the angel had been the last thing on his mind when he’d pulled Cas to his bed.

He’d known, then, that Cas had loved him, too, and sinking into Cas that night had felt like coming home for Dean.

Any thoughts of why he shouldn’t be with him had flown from his mind.

And, well, after the first time he didn’t really see any reason to stop, exactly.

Sam and Cas were still playing like they were the best of friends, and everything was totally platonic between them, which Dean knew was complete bullshit.

It was such a him thing to do that it was almost comical; except they were both so fucking awkward about it that it wasn’t funny at all.

Sam was avoiding the issue and Cas was avoiding the issue and Dean was gonna be damned, again, if he was going to be the one to approach the fucking issue.

But he did get tired of watching Sam scurry from the room with his tail tucked between his legs like a kicked puppy every time Dean and Cas got close because he was lonely and missing the guy.

One particular night Dean had put on a movie in the Dean Cave and Cas had come to sit beside him on the couch.

Technically he wasn’t even sitting next to Dean because Cas had somewhere picked up the ungodly habit of perching on the arm of the couch to be nosy before deciding if he actually wanted to give whatever Dean was watching a chance.

He was much more vocal in his disapproval of Dean’s western movies.

Sam had walked by and saw that though, and when Dean had invited him to join them, he’d made some excuse of taking a shower and relaxing for the night.

He’d told them to have fun with a wave over his shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom with the large tub.

Dean had made the decision then that things needed to change.

Awkward or not they needed to fix this.

So, he’d sent Cas after Sam to make the guy feel better.

He didn’t care what it took.

Obviously, in the back of his mind, he knew what it was going to take.

But he didn’t think about that part.

Cad had given him a questioning look with a raised eyebrow, disbelief etched into the lines of his forehead.

Dean had just nodded his permission and focused back on the movie.

Selfishly, he was happy that Cas checked with him first.

Selfishly, he was glad to know that Cas wouldn’t pursue anything there if Dean wasn’t fine with it.

But Dean decided to be fine with it.

Weird as it was.

He was fine with it.

He would make himself fine with it.

Because as long as he got to be with Cas, and see Sam happy, the details didn’t matter all that much.

And the weird thing was, it wasn’t all that weird.

All he had to do was not freaking think about it.

Dean didn’t see anything happening, or hear anything, or really know anything was happening.

He knew, obviously, because there was a sudden bounce to Sam’s step and a glimmer in his eyes that had definitely not been there before.

But most of the time he didn’t know and could pretend that it wasn’t happening.

That everything between all of them was completely normal.

Sometimes Cas would just show up in his bedroom, after being gone wherever it was Cas went these days when he wasn’t with them, off helping the angels or whatever, looking like something right out young Dean’s secret wet dreams in tight jeans or dress pants and various colored tees or sweaters.

Cas took the hot dad look and run with it.

Dean has no idea where the idea even came from, certain if the dude was going to pick up any fashion tips it would be flannels and functional jeans like a true Winchester.

No, Cas of course had his own style that somehow managed to perfectly reflect hot nerd and father to a baby god.

Not that he’s complaining about it.

He’s not.

Cas is fucking gorgeous and everyone that lays on him knows it.

It’s times like that, when they’re out on a case or just out in general, and someone gets it into their minds that Cas is just a friend, so they think its fine to flirt and wink and slip piece of paper with random numbers into his coat pocket.

It’s time like that when Dean wants to snap and snarl and stake his claim because yes, for a long time Cas was just a friend and people doing that made him uncomfortable but that’s all.

Now Cas is his and Dean wants the whole world to fucking know it.

That’s when Dean gets jealous.

But not when they’re all at home at the bunker, Cas and Sam telling jokes around the table and Sam giving those quiet little smiles to himself when Cas laughs at something he’s said.

Not when, on rare and random occasions, does Cas choose to order salads and whatever frou frou drink Sam is getting rather than stick to the fat and nitrates with Dean.

The point is, as far as Dean is concerned, Cas either spends his time with both of them, or with Dean.

Sometimes he will walk out of his room, thinking he maybe heard Cas show up but not sure, and thinking yeah, maybe he’s visiting Sam, only to find Cas perched on the war room table like a bird, reading some obscure book he’d picked up from where and brought back for the boys (mostly Sam because Dean didn’t read that shit unless it was absolutely necessary) like a raven bringing its human shiny coins.

Dean has no idea when Cas spends time with Sam, to be completely honest, and he’s absurdly grateful for that.

He’s grateful for Cas’ ability with near inhuman discretion, but it also makes a weird situation sort of not-weird which turns right around and makes it weird again.

It’s fine though because he definitely doesn’t want details.

If that situation was going to happen at all he wanted it to happen in his peripheral if anything.

Because Sam loves Cas. Cas had pretty much told him that when he’d told him how he’d had to break the curse.

Dean wouldn’t deny that kid anything.

He never has.

So why would he start with the person who literally saved Sam’s life through their love for each other?

Dean loves Cas more than very air he breathes.

He has for years.

And he knows Cas loves him.

He’s told Dean before, painting rainbow sigils into his skin and breathing protection over him when they come together.

Dean has seen Cas’ wings, and has touched them, and he knows no other human has done so.

He knows Cas loves him.

But he knows Cas loves Sam, too.

And Dean wants the two people he loves more than his own life to be happy.

And they make each other happy.

So, Dean is okay with what Dean has to be okay with to make this all work.

And because Cas is fucking awesome at keeping all the intimate strings of their lives separate, Dean barely has to face the situation at all.

Except for today.

Today is different.

Today there is a conversation that needs to be had and Dean is a little uncomfortable with the fact that it needs to be had.

He’s relaxing on his bed, one arm tucked under his head and headphones firmly over his ears, blaring a song he’d added to Cas’ mix tape when Dean was still being awkward and dumb about his feelings, when Cas walks into his bedroom.

As in, using the door instead of just poofing himself into sudden existence like he normally does.

Dean looks up, but despite the fact that he hasn’t seen Cas in several weeks and has missed him like crazy, he makes no move to get off the bed.

He does pause the music though.

Cas enters the room and quirks a smile at him that drops almost instantly.

So, yes, he’s spoken to Sam.

Awesome.

Cas walks over to sit on the side of Dean’s bed next to his thigh, hands clasping between his knees.

Cas walks over to sit on the side of Dean’s bed next to his thigh, hands clasping between his knees.

Today he’s wearing a dark red sweater and light khaki pants.

The pants hug his muscular thighs in a way that should be sinful, and normally Dean wouldn’t mind seeing Cas in his casual clothes, looking sexy and windswept as always.

However his eyes latch onto the particular shade of red against Cas’ tan skin and get stuck there, trying hard not to think of the color of blood.

Tries hard not to think about Cas on a cold stone floor bleeding through his shirt, cursed himself from a weapon that they shouldn’t have been going after in the first place.

He blinks and looks away, making a mental note for later to ask Cas to never wear that shade of red again.

“You talked to Sam?” Dean asks when the silence and his own thoughts start to become unbearable.

It’s obvious Cas isn’t going to start this incredibly awkward conversation himself and fuck him for that anyway.

“Yes,” the angel responds simply.

Dean narrows his eyes in irritation.

He doesn’t even want to have this conversation, though he knows it’s important to Cas, and will have it for Cas, but fuck them both if he’s gonna push for it.

Finally, because Dean has learned that Cas has picked up all of his most awful traits and bad habits and it’s best to wait the dude out rather than push him to speak, he’s rewarded with a heavy sigh and Cas dropping his chin to his chest.

“I wasn’t going to tell him,” he says quietly.

Yeah. Dean knew that, too.

“Not all of the details, at least. I thought it would be best to spare him from what he was truly facing. What truly happened.”

Dean gives Cas an equally heavy sigh and yanks the headphones from his head, tossing them onto the bed beside him.

Secrets between them never work.

Cas should know that by now.

“Look, man. I’m not gonna pretend I get what happened that day between you. I’m not even gonna pretend I like it. But we can’t keep secrets from each other anymore. We’re all closer now than we’ve ever been. We gotta be honest. About everything.”

Cas’ lips purse and his shoulders sag just a little.

“I could have killed him just as much as the curse would have,” Cas says quietly.

“But you didn’t.”

Dean shakes his head, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Cas, I know your grace only worked because you love him. Okay? I know. I get it. Even though you didn’t say that part out loud. I know you love him. I’m telling you that I get it, okay? And I accept it. I told Sam the same thing. I want him to be happy. I want you to be happy. And I want you. I don’t think those things need to exclude each other.”

Cas looks over his shoulder at Dean with a little half smile, and Dean huffs a breath.

“Whatever you two are to each other is fine. Just…you know. When you’re with me, be with me, okay?”

Cas rolls his eyes at him then.

“When am I ever anywhere else?”

And, okay, fair enough, but screw him.

Dean rolls his eyes right back at Cas.

“You know what I mean, asshole.”

Cas laughs, finally, blue eyes twinkling in the low light of Dean’s bedroom.

Fuck, he’s gorgeous. Especially when he’s happy.

Dean gets up on his knees and crawls over to Cas on the bed, knees on either side of Cas’ hips, propping his chin on Cas’ shoulder.

Cas smiles at him softly and presses a kiss into the side of his head.

“It’s an odd situation.”

Dean snorts.

“Man, you said it.”

“I did.” Cas confirms, literal as ever. But there’s a lightness to his face that also suggests he’s teasing now, and Dean rolls his eyes at him again.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re adorable. Look, are we good? I know I probably said some stuff I shouldn’t have but… I mean. We’re good, right?”

Dean closes his eyes, takes a breath, opens his eyes again to look at Cas.

“I want us to be,” he admits quietly.

He can feel Cas’ body relax into his own and accepts the weight and comfort it provides.

“Yes, Dean. We’re good.”

Dean digs his chin into Cas’ shoulder a little harder, blowing air through his nose.

“Great. Cause I, ah. I missed you, man. Like, a lot.”

Here Cas smiles finally. Wide and genuine.

“I missed you, too, Dean. So very much.”

Dean places one of his hands on Cas’ stubbled jaw and turns his head just enough to press their lips together lightly.

Sometimes he’s still surprised by how easy it is to just…

Do this.

Now.

They spend so long dancing around this, around each other, pretending like they didn’t feel what they feel for each other.

Him more than Cas, obviously.

Dean pretending like Cas was just a friend to him, family to him, and nothing more.

Pretending like he didn’t want to rip his very heart out every time Cas would leave and hold it out to eh guy, ask him to keep it safe because it didn’t belong to Dean anymore anyway.

Pretending like he didn’t want to offer everything that made him what he is, tarnished soul included, if only it would get Cas to stay.

Pretending like he didn’t feel those flares of jealousy every time someone would look at Cas with just a little too much interest to be friendly.

Pretending like every time Dean wanted to puff up his own feathers and remind everyone that Cas was his, it was just because he was being protective.

Now, though, Dean can have this.

Dean can have Cas and he’s allowing himself to accept that.

He kisses Cas greedily; taking what Cas offers with no hesitation.

He’s been denied this for so long.

He’s denied himself this for so long.

Too damn long.

Not anymore.

Now Dean takes because he can and because Cas lets him.

Deft fingers tug at the awful red sweater Cas is wearing, and he’s grateful when it comes off and is thrown into a heap on the floor.

He never wants to see that color on Cas again.

It makes him think of Cas sick.

Cas hurt.

Cas dying.

Cas gone.

He hates it.

Cas thankfully doesn’t seem to care too much about the particles of his new wardrobe, paying zero attention to where his clothes get tossed to or what condition they’re in when they get there.

He just allows Dean to maneuver him however he wants, and it’s a heady feeling.

Knowing Cas is thing ridiculously powerful thing, capable of moving anvils with one finger and yet he sits there, pliable and yielding to the all-too-human touch of Dean Winchester.

Before, it would’ve been terrifying.

It still is, kinda.

But mostly it’s just really fucking hot.

Dean climbs from the bed awkwardly, keeping his hands touching Cas as he does so, until he’s standing directly in front of him.

Then he’s sinking slowly to his knees on the floor.

Cas watches him, eyes low and blown black already.

He can see Cas tenting his khaki pants already and thinks: yeah. I did that.

He doesn’t know what Jimmy was like in his life, or if Cas somehow beefed himself up with angelic grace, although he doubts penis seize is something he would’ve cared about when taking over this vessel.

Still, there’s a reason why when Dean learned the phrase ‘Big Dick Energy’, Cas is the first person he thought of.

Not that he’s complaining in the least.

He’s not.

Definitely not.

Dean rests his hands on the tops of Cas’ thick thighs and looks up at him with wide eyes.

“You sure we’re good, Cas?” he asks quietly, fingers kneading into the muscled flesh under his palms.

Cas smirks at him a little and widens his thighs a little more.

Dean wiggles between Cas’ spread legs, sliding his hands up Cas’ legs as he moves until they reach the zipper on Cas’ pants.

“We’re good, Dean,” Cas answers, voice a rough rasp that sends a small shiver down Dean’s spine.

Dean licks suddenly dry lips, teeth sinking his bottom lip, as he pops the button on Cas’ pants.

He drags the zipper down, throating tingling with the urge to match the soft little moan Cas gives.

He knows Cas could just magic himself naked if he wanted to.

He’s done it before, and to Dean too for that matter, when they were both in a hurry to touch and be touched.

But he likes doing things the old-fashioned way sometimes.

Besides.

He likes getting on his knees for Cas.

Likes offering himself up to Cas like this.

Cas makes no move to help him, but then he generally doesn’t.

He only lifts his hips up so that Dean can pull the pants down and off his muscled legs.

Cas places one gentle hand on the back of Dean’s neck, not in force, never that, but in encouragement and silent offer of his steady presence.

Dean sometimes needs to be grounded.

Needs to be reminded that he’s with someone he loves and not back in a myriad of other times when this was a lot less fun and meaningful to him.

The angel’s soft finger strokes against the skin on his neck a gentle, silent reminder that Cas is the one here with him, and that Dean is the one choosing to do this for him.

The underwear are next; tight little black things that hug the bulge of Cas deliciously and leave nothing to the imagination.

He doesn’t really know when Cas started wearing these instead of his customary white ones (and do not ask how he knows that, okay?) but he’s also not complaining about this change, either.

He runs his fingertips across the fabric separating him from as, listening to the little choked noises Cas makes in the back of his throat.

Cas has amazing control over this body, his body, and he doesn’t move an inch.

Not even when Dean leans forward to mouth at the fabric, replacing his fingers with lips and gentle nips of his teeth.

He does suck a harsh breath in through his teeth, and say “Dean,” in a voice that, on anyone else, would be a warning.

Cas doesn’t push with Dean unless Dean wants him to.

Cas doesn’t force with Dean unless Dean wants him to.

Cas knows his triggers and his soft points, being the one that put Humpty back together again after the wall that was Hell, and Dean’s doesn’t have to tell Cas anything.

Cas knows because Cas knows him.

Dean appreciates that about being with him.

Dean, done teasing for the moment, pulls the boxers down and off Cas’ hips, letting his cock spring free.

Cas is red, and hard, and leaking from his tip already.

Dean looks up to see that Cas is watching him intently.

Partly in lust; eyes blown and breaths short.

Partly in question, wanting to make sure Dean is still okay without being obtrusive about it.

Dean is more than okay.

He leans that little bit more forward that will bring his lips to the head of Cas’ cock and opens his mouth.

Cas pushes forward with his hips now, just slightly, because Dean needs him too.

Because Dean wants him too.

The head of him slips past Dean’s lips to rest lightly on his tongue, letting Dean decide what to do with it.

With him.

The thing is, and Cas knows this already, he’s done this enough times with Cas now that he doesn’t really panic anymore.

His tongue knows the weight and taste of Cas by now, and it’s unlike any other person Dean has ever had to do this for.

Dean loves Cas, every part of Cas, and this no longer sends panic signals shooting through him like it used to.

He just opens his mouth a little bit wider and lets Cas slide down the back of tongue, slow and practiced.

He can feel Cas shiver a little under his hands, his weight sinking deeper into the mattress.

Dean closes his lips around the base of Cas, sucking his cheeks hollow his cheeks as he pulls a slow drag back up to the tip.

He knows how to do this and thankfully he’s never had to tell Cas why.

Cas knows.

Its why Cas doesn’t push.

No, that’s not why Cas doesn’t push.

Cas doesn’t push because Cas loves him and would never take more than Dean was willing to offer.

Cas keeps a ridiculously firm control over his body, hips not even daring to move even though Dean knows he probably wants to thrust against Dean’s face, because Cas knows Dean wouldn’t appreciate it.

Dean works Cas slow and methodical. Long drags of lips interspersed with little licks to his head until Dean can feel the quiver in Cas’ thighs suggesting the tightly held control is slipping.

Cas taps Dean on the shoulder to get his attention and he pulls away like he’s supposed to.

Cas leans down, grasps his chin, and kisses him. Full force and heavy.

Dean accepts the kiss, opening his mouth for Cas’ tongue to seek out his own flavor there.

Then Cas is pulling him up off the floor and into his lap.

Freaky angel strength.

Dean goes willingly, knees bracketing Cas’ hips.

He kisses Cas like a man starved, nipping at the full lips and stealing Cas’ little panting breaths from him.

He pushes with his chest a little and Cas lets himself fall backwards onto his back.

They land together, Cas holding on tightly to Dean’s hips and cushioning their fall even as their lips refuse to leave each other, and really teeth should’ve been clacking with the force they hit the mattress.

Cas digs his fingers a little tighter into Dean’s hips, not enough to leave marks but enough to remind them both that he’s there, and rolls his own hips a little, pushing his naked body into Dean’s denim clad pelvis.

Reminding him that while his angel is completely naked and wanting beneath him, he very much is not.

He pulls away from the kiss, breathless and aching.

“Cas.” He groans against the angel’s lips.

“Yes, Dean,” Cas responds readily.

It’s not so much a question as it is permission.

It’s permission for Dean to have.

Whatever he wants he can have it.

That’s the way it’s always been, even if Dean was too stupid and stubborn to realize it before.

The answer to that is simple enough: Dean wants Cas.

He sits up to yank flannel and tee over his head.

They meet in a heap on the floor somewhere near Cas’ horrible blood sweater but he isn’t pay any attention to his own clothes either.

His focus is on getting as naked as the angel under him, and doing decidedly unangelic things to that tanned, muscled body he loves so very fucking much.

Dean pulls his belt through the hoops of his jeans with one hand, using the other to press into Cas’ chest.

Cas stares up at him, eyes wide and curious.

A little smirk tilts the edges of his mouth, and Dean accepts it for the challenge that he knows it is.

He loops the belt around the palms of his hands and leans forward, shoving the leather between the angel’s teeth.

Cas opens, wide and pretty for him, like he always does.

“You gonna be good for me, Cas?” Dean asks, voice low and teasing.

Cas says something around the makeshift gag but whatever it is Dean can’t hear it. From the way his blue eyes flash, it was something incredibly sarcastic.

It doesn’t matter anyway.

Cas will be good for him.

Cas is always good for him.

Cas is good to him, too.

He presses light kisses into Cas’ spread lips, tongue tracing along the edges of leather between Cas’ teeth.

A chuckle rumbles through Cas’ chest as he drags his fingers over the skin of Dean’s bare back.

Dean shivers, pulling the gag from between Cas’ teeth, and kisses him again. Hard and biting and so damn needy.

Cas moans into his mouth, hips doing those little, short jerks that are not quite thrusts against Dean’s still jean-clad ass.

Dean huffs a laugh into the swollen lips underneath his own.

“Not this time, buddy. This time I’m driving.” He grasps Cas’ wrists and pulls them over his head, wrapping the belt around them tightly.

It’s tight enough to leave red welts in the skin of Cas’ pale wrists, but they both know he could break the bonds with a blink if he really wanted to.

That’s the whole point, really.

He doesn’t want to.

The thought sends another thrill through Dean’s body; his own cock hard and aching behind his zipper.

“Are you sure, Dean? You’re a bit reckless when you drive.” Cas snarks at him, all smirking full lips and hooded blue eyes.

Asshole.

Dean narrows his eyes at the smartass pinned to his mattress, noting the laughter shining in Cas’ face.

Cas’ sense of self and personality have absolutely blossomed recently, ever since they got together and Cas feels more comfortable in his own skin now that he’s accepted and loved for exactly who he is, and Dean loves to see the real Cas shining through all that stoic rule-following bullshit.

Even if sometimes he is a bit of a prick.

“You want reckless, sweetheart?” Dean asks, voice taunting.

Reckless he can definitely do.

Cas just smiles a serene little grin up at him, tugging at the belt around his wrists as if to show he isn’t going anywhere until Dean lets him.

And he really isn’t, is he?

Cas isn’t going anywhere because he finally has a reason to stay.

Dean has to remind himself that now is not the time to get emotional about the state of their lives, even if his throat is choking up with something other than lust when he looks into the cerulean depths of Cas’ eyes, so he leans down to kiss Cas again.

Biting into the plush flesh of Cas’ bottom lip to reorient them both to the situation, before he sits up again.

Cas is hard and straining beneath him; skin red from blood and the friction of denim rubbing against his sensitized flesh.

Dean rocks his ass on Cas’ lap and shimmies himself out of his jeans and boxers. Cas clenches fingers and sucks in a deep breath as Dean’s naked body finally makes contact with his own.

Dean sits down, allowing Cas’ dick to rest in the cleft of his ass, sliding his skin along the length, sweat making the friction glide rather than burn.

As tempting as it is to take all that beautiful hardness inside himself and fuck Cas until they’re both spent and exhausted, it’s not what he wants right now.

Dean wants to fuck his angel, and by the blown-out gaze watching him move, Dean knows Cas wants the same thing from him.

Still though.

Cas wants reckless.

Dean is more than happy to oblige him.

Even if it scares him a little, deep inside, to try that with Cas.

The fear still exists, of course, that Dean will do something one day to hurt his angel, scare his angel, make his angel leave and not come back.

He thinks Cas will tell him, first, if he does something harmful and will ask him to not do it again.

He thinks, rationally, that he cannot hurt Cas anyway with his human hands and anything to truly harm Cas would have to be intentional on his part.

Something he’s not interested in doing anyway.

But still.

Without existential dread and a lack of trust in his own ability to keep those he loves safe; would he even be himself?

The answer, in short, is no.

No matter how exhausting that may be.

He trails his fingers down the sides of Cas’ torso and back up.

Slides them across Cas’ neck, scratches at the stubble on Cas’ chin.

Stops with his fingertips resting on Cas’ lips.

Cas knows what he wants but he’s being a little brat.

He simply smirks again at him with his fingers resting against the beautiful plush pink of his lips.

If Dean wants, he’s going to have to take.

Reckless, huh.

That’s fine with him.

He presses with his fingertips until his index finger pops past Cas’ lips.

Cas smiles and lets his mouth fall open, tongue sliding past his bottom lip to hang out a little, wet and inviting for whatever Dean wants to do with him.

Dean places two fingers onto Cas’ tongue, watching as Cas slides the wet muscle between the digits before lifting his head slightly and pulling the fingers into his mouth.

He clamps his lips shut, sealing the fingers inside that moist heat, and sucks as hard as he can.

The feeling of Cas’ hollowed cheeks wrapped around his fingers, and those piercing blue eyes staring right into his own, sends an electric current through his heart and straight into his dick, which thumps against his belly as his muscles clench.

Dean tugs a little and Cas’ mouth opens wide, and Dean has a ridiculous amount ideas dancing through his brain of things to do with that cherry red mouth of his.

“Got a plan with those, Dean?” Cas asks, a little breathless and lot sassy.

Dean wrinkles his nose at him but doesn’t answer.

Instead, he slides down Cas’ body, nudging his legs open as he goes.

Cas spreads his knees open easily enough, making a perfect cradle for Dean to fit into.

Dean walks his fingers down Cas’ torso, over his pelvic bone, avoids the erection straining there entirely, and slides his fingers between Cas’ cheeks until they press against Cas’ puckered entrance.

He can feel Cas twitch against his finger pads and knows the angel is ready for him.

Cas doesn’t need any prep work for this.

Pros of getting it on with an angel he supposes.

He can just…will it.

And it is.

But he likes to tease the guy anyway.

Dean slides one long finger into Cas slowly, feeling him flutter and open.

Cas moans so softly that he barely hears him.

Barely, but he does hear him.

He lifts his eyes up from where his finger is being swallowed by Cas’ body to Cas’ face, red and flushed, eyes squeezed shut.

Dean smirks to himself a little.

Cas is not nearly as unaffected by this as he pretends to be.

A part of him wants to go slowly, so slowly, and tease Cas this way for hours.

The stamina of angels is unparalleled, he’s found.

At least in a sexual nature.

But still.

Cas wants reckless.

He can’t forget that.

And he wants to give his angel whatever he wants.

Figures Cas deserves to get the things he asks for these days, and he definitely doesn’t ask for much.

So if Cas wants to be bent in half and fucked within an inch of his life then that is exactly what Dean is going to give him.

Dean pushes a little insistently at Cas’ hole, watching as he opens prettily and lets Dean slide another finger into him.

He twists his wrist, scissoring the fingers and stretching the angel needlessly.

The filthy, glorious sounds that fall from Cas’ lips make it worth it though.

Cas slides his feet along the bed, raising his knees a little so his hips open more.

Though Cas certainly isn’t expecting it, and even Dean isn’t really expecting it until he does it, Dean opens his mouth and wraps his lips around Cas’ head, finger pressing deep into his ass.

Cas forgets himself for just a moment, hips jerking up in surprise and sliding across Dean’s tongue to the back of his throat.

Cas gasps and pushes his skull deep into the pillow beneath him as Dean lifts his free hand, placing it on Cas’ pelvis and forces his hips back down to the mattress.

Dean holds him there with one hand, knowing it should be impossible to do, and slides his fingers out of the angel until only the tips are still inside, crooks them just a little to stimulate the nerves, and then slides them back inside.

He keeps his lips wrapped tightly around Cas’ head, not moving at all but keeping a steady suction that makes these little panting gasps start to fall from Cas’ glorious mouth.

“Dean, oh! Dean, please,” Cas begs, panting and clenching his fingers tightly around each other.

Dean looks up, lips releasing Cas’ cock with a little ‘pop’ sound as his fingers stop moving.

“Something you want, Cas?” He asks.

Cas opens his eyes, pupils blown black, and glares at him.

Dean just grins back.

“Dean,” Cas growls at him, and Dean knows he’s out of time from the sound of that voice. That should not be as deliciously hot as it is, but still Dean feels himself leak and shivers rack down his spine at the sound of the threat in that one syllable word. “If you do not fuck me, I will take over and make you fuck me.”

Dean swallows a groan at the filthy curses falling from the angel’s lips.

Christ the dude is hot.

“Whatever you say, Cas.”

He sits up, reaching forward to grab the belt from around Cas’ wrists and pulls it free.

Cas will obey him. He knows it.

They both know it.

Cas watches him with hooded eyes.

He watches Cas right back, his own eyes telling him to stay even as his mouth just pants hotly against the flesh of Cas belly.

Cas wriggles his fingers a little but he doesn’t move his hands from being clasped above his head.

His teeth bite into his lips as he watches Dean place a gentle kiss on his belly, right under his navel, before he sits up.

Cas lifts his legs up on Dean’s waists as he reaches down with one hand to position himself right at Cas’ entrance, just barely pressing against the muscle.

Cas moans softly, teeth biting down harder. He moves a little, feeling Dean there, but he knows better than to push.

Not yet anyway.

Dean takes his other hand and places his fingers against Cas’ lips again.

He takes advantage of Cas’ short gasp at the first breach to sink his fingers deep into the angel’s mouth as he slides deep into Cas’ body.

One long slow glide through the zero resistance of Cas’ muscles. He groans, hard and heavy, as Dean slides in, teeth biting down around Dean’s fingers.

He tilts his hips, knees raising against Dean’s sides to help him fit in as deep as he can, bottoming out completely with belly landing brushing against Cas’ hard cock.

Dean moans softly, weakly, as he sinks into the molten heat of Castiel, angel of the lord and love of his friggin life.

He breathes hard, trying to pull his emotions back in from where they’re trying to spill out all over the place.

A part of him wants to thank Cas for giving him this.

For giving them this.

Part of him just wants to fucking cry and beg Cas to never leave.

Please, god, never leave him again.

But he knows Cas won’t leave.

Not anymore.

Not again.

Dean holds himself still inside of Cas, emotions rocking through him and one would think this was the first damn time they’ve done this with the body his body is quaking.

He tells himself to get his shit together because now is definitely not the time for this.

Though he does suppose crying all over the guy mid-sex would count as reckless, too, but he doesn’t think that’s what Cas had mind.

Cas is here, and Cas isn’t angry with him, and Cas isn’t going to leave him for opening his mouth when he wasn’t supposed to.

Cas gets him, though, because he releases Dean’s fingers from his mouth and tilts his head so the hand falls away from his face, landing on the pillow beside his head.

“Need me to drive, Dean?” Cas asks, and there’s just the barest hint of a challenge to his words.

Dean knows exactly why Cas is continuing the car metaphor here and fuck him because it works.

Nobody can drive his car like he can, and nobody can fuck his angel like he can.

Fucking asshole.

The tears dry up near instantly in the face of the challenge Cas throws down in front of him, and he pointedly ignores the way Cas’ eyes alight with mischief.

He sits up fully, hands wrapping around Cas’ thick thighs, pulling them up and open around his upper waist.

Cas’ lower back is practically sitting on Dean’s thighs, but Cas is curious and boneless and easy to maneuver.

He watches Dean, eyes low and teeth flashing as he licks across them, trying and failing not to show how much he’s enjoying Dean’s lust-driven irritation at him.

Dean thinks, again, how fucking beautiful Cas really is.

Not just the vessel he’s inside, although yes, the body is gorgeous.

But Dean didn’t fall for the body.

Dean fell for Cas.

The unfathomable creature that yanked him out of the pit and, for whatever reason, decided to choose him over everything he’d known for millions of years.

The angel that had looked at Dean and saw something other than John Winchester’s son.

Something other than a hunter to throw at monsters when the good, normal people were in danger.

Something other than a shield to put in front of Sam, who always mattered more.

Something other than a blunt instrument; cannon fodder for the things that go bump in the night.

Something other than a pretty mouth and soft hands; a desperate young kid that would do anything to keep his kid brother in their room for another night, another week, another month.

Cas had looked at Dean and saw him.

And Dean had looked at Cas right back.

Dean had looked at Cas and saw something other than Chuck’s soldier.

Heaven’s warrior.

Fodder for Lucifer and Michael’s war that neither truly believed in.

Dean had looked at Castiel and saw Cas.

And Cas was beautiful to him.

Even in sex, something that is generally, while fun, awkward and messy and all too human, Cas is beautiful.

Otherworldly and bright.

Dean presses into Cas now, and watches Cas watch him back, and thinks that he would give anything to make Cas’ choice, Cas’ faith in him, worth every sacrifice.

Despite Dean’s promises he starts off slow.

Gentle little thrusts of his hips onto the depths of his angel.

His fingers bite into Cas’ thighs hard enough to leave marks as he moves, breaths panting and skin tingling.

Cas, ever the needy little shit, lets this pace go on for maybe two minutes.

But Cas has never bene one to sit back and just let things be done to him.

Dean can feel it when Cas gets a little more demanding, legs locking behind Dean’s back and pulling a little more insistently against Dean’s hips.

His fingers twist around each other and he bites into his lip harder, teeth baring slightly.

Dean knows what Cas wants, and he smiles down at his angel who glares daggers up at him with ice-chipped eyes.

Dean lets Cas’ legs go, trusting him to keep himself in the position that feels best for him so that he can lean forward over Cas again.

One arm raises above Cas’ hand, goes to hold onto Cas’ wrists, pressing them down into the mattress.

The other hands wraps around Cas’ throat, pressing with his thumbs into the sides of Cas’ skin so that Cas can just barely breathe, blood flow limited by the pressure.

Dean puts his weight into Cas’ wrists, bearing Cas down.

And then…

Well.

Then he’s a bit reckless.

He thrusts against, and into, Cas, as forcefully as he can, listening as Cas tries to moan, fails, tries to suck in a breath, fails at that, too.

Dean gives him zero time to recover. Hips moving like a piston now, thrusting inside and out, the sound of their flesh meeting a rapid-fire chorus in the warm air of his bedroom.

Now Cas doesn’t have much choice but to take, and accept, and hold the fuck still.

His legs are still wrapped tight around Dean’s waist as he knew they would be, knees pressing into Dean’s armpits.

Cas forgets his own strength sometimes and Dean’s own breath wheezes out a little as he squeezes a little too tightly.

Dean looks down at Cas’ face, flushed red and covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

His own body is covered, belly slick and sliding against the rock-hard flesh of Cas’ dick trapped between them.

Pleasure and static burns across his body, throat tight and choking back on his own noises so he can still hear Cas below him.

Dean presses a kiss into Cas’ mouth as it falls open, desperate little sounds starting to fall from those beautifully red lips.

Dean moves just a little, changing the angle slightly, and knows from the way Cas jerks below him that he’s found the little bundle of nerves that will send Cas careening over the edge.

A marvel that Cas had only known about in theory until he’d starting having sex of his own.

Now it’s his favorite thing.

Even more than peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.

Dean thrusts into him now, sharp, jabbing thrusts that make Cas gasp and whine his name through the constriction around his throat.

Tears are leaking from the very corners of Cas’ eyes and Dean kisses them away.

Impossibly he finds the strength to speed up just as he starts to feel the tell-tale tingle of orgasm at the base of his spine.

Cas is a fluttering mess around him, body constricting and loosening with every movement between them.

He pushes a little harder on Cas’ wrists, knowing that if Cas were human his bones would’ve snapped by now.

Something about the strength in the body below him, the knowledge that Cas could fight him off if he wanted to and chooses to let Dean have this control over him, sends fire racing along his veins.

“D-Dean,” Cas moans, voice barely audible.

He squeezes Cas’ neck just that little bit tighter until the angel can’t breathe at all.

Not that he needs to.

All he can do is release little gasping sounds; mouth open wide as his body starts to tighten up around Dean.

Dean leans down again, lips right up against the corner of Cas’, and breathes the words into him that will push him over the edge.

“Yeah? You gonna come for me, Cas?” Dean asks as the lights around them start to flicker.

Blue white light starts to shine from Cas’ eyes as they open wide and Dean knows Cas is losing control.

“Come on, baby. Come those beautiful rainbows all over me. Come on.” He never pays much attention to whatever he says in bed, but it usually works, and now is no different.

Cas arches up then, voice a silent scream, and comes hard, body clenching tightly around Dean.

Dean groans as Cas locks around him, painting his stomach and chest in thick ropes of diamonds.

Grace dances across the surface of Dean’s skin as Cas can no longer contain it all; pleasure and power blacking out his vision as his body is locked into the vice that Cas has become.

He can’t think and he can’t see.

All he can do is feel.

There is power around him, and inside him, and he swears he can hear the see the colors of other worlds as reality collapses and reforms behind his eyelids.

Cas, legs locked around Dean’s waist, pulls him right against his own body, and in a language, Dean has never heard before, in a voice he shouldn’t understand, orders his human body to come inside.

To come home.

Dean does with a silent scream into Cas’ mouth.

Fingers locking tight around the wrists still being held in his grip, Dean comes into his angel with a force no human should be capable of.

He shakes through it, grace running static fire down his nerves, until there’s nothing left of him, panting his exhaustion again Cas’ sweaty cheek.

His hands release Cas, listening as the angel takes a deep breath. More reflex than need.

And then he collapses full bodied on top of him.

Cas’ hands wrap around his shoulders and pulls Dean into him.

“Was that what you had in mind?” Dean asks a little while later after they’ve both caught their breath.

Cas drifts hands up and down the sweaty skin of Dean’s back and hums.

“I take it back,” Cas says.

Dean sits up a little to look into Dean’s eyes, already suspicions when he sees the little glint there.

“You’re a very good driver, Dean.”

Dean rolls his eyes.

God he’s an asshole.

Dean opens his mouth to tell him, so, too.

Except what comes out is, “I love you.”

And, well, he supposes it’s the same thing, really.