Archive of Our Own ^beta

Dean knows he isn’t going crazy. Last time he thought that was some years ago already. Hearing things in the night, forgetting where he put his gloves, needling nightmares about his less than admirable past… Well those are all things that he’s become accustomed to by this point. So he knows he isn’t going crazy when a large shadowy figure fades into the powder-dusted shrubbery as soon as Dean turns his head towards it.

Unless going crazy is happening a second time, doubling its efforts on making Dean freak the fuck out.

At first it was just footsteps, revealed only by a crunch of brittle leaves and twigs frozen by the icy temperatures, a satisfyingly audible snap from heavy handed steps. Then Dean noticed how quiet the rest of the forest would get sometimes, no chirping of birds, no small pitters of woodland creatures dashing into the belly of the forest. Silence, only broken by a whisper of frigid wind, and the pressure of being watched pressing into the back of Dean’s neck. 

Somethings out there.

But he just can’t seem to get a glimpse of it to prove his belief.

Dean has no idea what it wants either, it's been nearly two weeks of this, of it just eerily watching him from a distance that Dean can only feel, not see. 

It’s extremely intelligent, whatever the fuck it is. He’s tried to hunt it before and failed. It evaded every cautious attempt Dean has made to track it down to wherever it slumbers. Covers its tracks before Dean can even start searching and lets the snow do the rest. It’s even learnt his movement patterns and his schedule, in just a couple of days at that. Smart enough to avoid his rifle too, never coming close when Dean has his gear on for hunting, only appearing when Dean is empty handed and can no longer ignore his more mundane daily duties. 

He'd felt that sensation of lingering eyes when he’d bent down foraging for mushrooms and berries in the morning for example, just silently creeping up and stopping at a point Dean can’t easily make out. Watching.

It’s weird, really fucking weird. 

And if Dean wasn’t so goddamn lonely, he might be throwing a bigger hissy fit about it. 

Dean can’t remember exactly when he left civilization really. He has a phone, but it's a cricket phone, barely anything on there that would give a semblance of connection to the outside world. The only contacts on it are Sam and Bobby for that matter. He hasn’t called or heard from Bobby since he left. His frame of time exists solely through the one calendar event on his phone marked for Sammy’s birthday. 

There's no getting to Sam anymore though, that avenue is a cycle of dredged up grief, a voicemail that he plays on repeat, a recurring mental of that cataclysmic event, a knife to the base of his spine and fountains of blood seeping through Dean's fingers and the last exhale from his baby brother—

Dean bites his tongue till he tastes copper, bubbling bile and heavy breaths rising in and out of him, and he swallows the spit to keep it all down.

He can't think about that too long. He's not strong enough. 

That's why he's being so lenient, because a pair of eyes giving him some odd sensation of company when he completes his daily rituals in this maze of Alaskan forest is welcome at this point. It's a distraction from everything else at the very least. Whether it comes to bite him in the ass or not remains to be seen. 

Emphasis on bite, Dean has found several claw marks on trees and dried blood in the snow as he paroles the perimeter of his cabin. No carcasses, but the claw marks are telling enough. Deep, and scattered on a litany of trunks. Territorial. Definitely a predator, a large one at that, one that's staked claim on Dean’s land. But he has no idea if the creature in question is a shy co-habitator or a silent assassin waiting till Dean least expects his timely demise.

Dean grimaces at the thought as he finds another claw mark, scarring new bark, splinters of wood forming another message that this guest is here to stay. The thought stays circling in his mind as he walks back to the cabin. 

It’s hard to tell seasons apart sometimes in the depths of the Alaskan wilderness, but the sprigs of green grass and dainty pink flowers whisper songs of Spring to him. The sun stays out longer these days, settling into its high arc and resting there for several beats more than usual. Summer is creeping up soon, but there's still room for the occasional snow. 

Dean always feels more soothed with the snow's presence, admiring the way it flutters down this afternoon. It softens the mottled wounds in his mind and makes the bite of cold a little more bearable.

HIs daily scenic picture of a white-dusted spruce wood cabin comes into view, a sight he’s come to find solace in all the way up here on the craggy peaks and hills. It’s a clumsy build, but it was made with his own two hands. The wood is soaked with his blood sweat and tears. It’s a home, albeit an empty one, but good enough. 

A striking black and red mass that doesn’t belong draws his eye away from the usual cosiness, startling him out of his thoughts. Blood and beast appears in the frame and sets everything inside Dean on edge. A strange crossover of both human and creature lies on Dean’s porch steps. A muscular body that’s patched with grey and black toned skin and fur, as well as a mane of hair that reaches its broad shoulders. Its legs almost look like they've been snapped the wrong way. 

Its face is hidden from this angle but Dean can identify what looks to be an ear drooping against a furry skull. Akin to a wolf's ears he thinks. Suddenly the rest of its appearance seems to make a little more sense.

Dean’s never met a Were before. Only ever read about it in Dad’s journal. He never mentioned them to be fully transformed like this though. Dean was led to believe that they only adorned a set of ugly gnashers and claws that seriously needed manicuring whenever they transformed. Instead he’s staring at what looks to be 7 feet of muscled apex predator, bleeding out and painting the snow beneath it pink and rouge. 

Dean ponders what the move should be. It might be easy to circle around the beast without it noticing him, pick up his rifle out of the shed and finish the job. But then he recalls John’s words jotted in fine penmanship. Only silver is gonna put the nail in the coffin for this thing. 

Well he needs to figure out something before the thing gets healed up enough to move. Even an injured Were might give him some trouble without access to the right tools. 

Not to mention, Dean’s probably rusty. His shooting is fine, sure, but he hasn’t hunted in months. Dean fears his withered reflexes might let him down if he needs to duck a swipe of wolverine claws going right for his face. He could use a shave but he’d sooner trust a rusty razor than a set of bloodsoaked claws.

A pained whine knocks Dean out of his thoughts, and he refocuses on the Were that's now noticed his presence. Its head has turned towards him enough now that Dean can see the otherworldly blue in its eyes, hidden slightly by the shuttering of droopy eyelids. Dean bristles slightly every time it whimpers, a withering stare that places a weight on his senses, remarkably similar to how he’d feel wandering the woods, knowing something was always watching from his blind spots. 

Huh. Well mystery solved then. To think it was a Were though, that poses more questions than answers.

What is it doing stalking him for weeks on end, alone at that? 

They’re more pack orientated if they can help it, but either way, what interest does a Were have on a hermit like Dean if not to feed? 

He’s the perfect meal really, an inconspicuous kill considering they are deep in the woods, away from civilization. He'd never get hunted for it. Plus it could take him down and leave with barely a scratch on it. Dean could put up a fight, sure, but even if Dean used to be a seasoned hunter, there's only so much a rifle and melee combat can do against a monster that regenerates abnormally fast.

Dean feels a foolhardy suspicion build up in him, one that tries to link the more human parts of the monster's visage to its behaviour, trying to give it some grace. 

Maybe it doesn’t mean any harm after all? It's a ridiculous thought, but he entertains it anyway, mostly out of guilt as the poor creature groans pathetically. 

He’s thought about it a few times before anyway. All evidence pointed to a top of the food chain hunter, and yet all it did was watch over Dean. Creepy sure, but it kept to itself and let Dean get on with his life for the most part. If it wanted to kill him, it would have done so already.

“Ah fuck it.”

Dean makes a few uncertain steps forward to the beast, flinching when it shifts its head ever so slightly in reaction. He pauses only for a second before getting close again, and breathes out a sigh of relief as it just eerily watches his approach. 

Dean can see now how bad the wounds really are up close. Claw marks that go deep into its thigh and upper back, and that's the least concerning part. There’s a sizable gouge wound on the Were’s neck, probably from a nasty bite, still dribbling crimson blood and looking immensely painful. 

Speaking of sizable, Dean can now see the uh, third leg situation it's got going on. Not important right now of course.

“Why aren’t you healing up though huh? The fuck happened to you?…”

The monster whimpers slightly in response to Dean cursing out, and another wave of sympathy washes over Dean. 

If Dean had to hedge his bets, he’d guess that the Were crossed paths with another top predator, got into a little spat and lost the fight. Badly.

Dean gulps as the Were pins him with puppy eyes– really c’mon, 7 feet of muscle and carnal animal instincts and it's giving Dean puppy eyes?

Godammit. 

He’s going to have to do something about this isn’t he? 

“Ok, look I’m gonna help you out but we gotta get you inside somehow yeah? So you’re gonna have to grit your teeth and help me help you stand up.”

Dean doesn’t wait to see if the statement lands, instead moving to lift the tree trunk of an arm over his shoulder and lifting with his legs. Good technique doesn’t do much, seriously the monster weighs down on his body like a truck. 

It notices Dean’s apparent struggle and shuffles its legs weakly, somehow they manage to get to a standing position. Dean lugs it up the patio steps and worries for a moment that the Were won't even fit through the door. It’s body is gargantuan, and he has Sammy– had Sam for a brother, so that’s saying something. 

“Alright, we can do this.” 

It’s more of a pep talk for himself as the exhaustion quickly begins to burn through every muscle in his body. Through some awkward manoeuvring and some muttered apologies when Dean bumps the Were into the door frame, they squeeze through just barely. 

Dean groans when they stumble a little and land on their knees, and the Were responds in kind with a pained whine.

“Yeah I know sorry, we’ll get you sorted out in a sec. Let's get you over to the fireplace, wanna make sure you're warm at least.”

Dean would opt for the bed but not only is it further away, there's also no way it’s gonna fit on the single mattress. Dean’s own body barely does, his toes hang just over the edge of his bed frame.

The last few metres are a slog, but they make it and Dean tries to gently drop the monster off of his shoulder onto the floor. Even still, there's a little thud when the Were is set down that makes him wince. 

The Were doesn’t make a complaint though, blue eyes hidden now behind weary lids, black fur adopting highlights of chestnut brown as the fire warms the fine hairs.

“Alright you just… stay here. I’ll go and-” Dean waves his hand uselessly. 

The Were doesn’t dignify him with a response because y’know, it's bleeding out on his floorboards.

He clears his throat and gets to work.

It takes more time than he likes to gather some supplies but God he’s grateful he was overprepared with first aid stuff. It would be way too hard for him to get to a hospital in time so he sort of equipped his cabin with bundles of disinfectant and bandages. Hell he even stole some saline eye safe solution from a hospital just in case he needed to wash his eyeballs out. Can't chop wood and aim a rifle with fucked up vision.

Dean makes a pile of dressing tools and cleaning products next to the Were and methodically plans out the major problem areas. He’s glad he managed to get the monster on its back, makes for easy access to that nasty bite wound. He grabbed some pillows too and stuffed it under the Were’s head, ignoring its soft growls.

It turns into a guttural growl when he starts cleaning the wounds out, but doesn’t pay it too much mind. It must hurt like a mother fucker, so he’s allowed to moan and groan about being poked and prodded with a damp rag and stinging disinfectants. But Dean can't afford to be delicate about this right now when he doesn't know the damage.

“Still not healing up like you should be… The hell did this to you?”

The oversized wolf huffs out a breath in response and Dean isn’t sure what it means.

“Alright well, you just gotta heal up the old fashioned way. My stitch work is rusty but you shoulda picked a different door step to collapse in front of if you wanted a perfect job.”

The stitches take longer than normal, partly because of his lack of practice but also because the Were’s hide is slightly thicker than human skin. Dean has to take extra care and time into it just to close the loops. It also takes a bit of effort from the both of them to roll the beast on its side so Dean could sort out the gashes on its chest and stomach. 

He looks over his work and overall, Dean feels a little bit of pride, not too shabby. Plus the sun’s only just going down. The bite injuries are his biggest concern even with the stitches, the gashes and cuts will close up eventually, but without the Were’s usual enhanced healing, those gouge wounds are risking infection. Dean’s just one retired hunter, other than changing bandages and keeping the wounds closed there's not much he can do.

“This would be a lot easier if you could tell me what happened to you but… well I guess that ain't in the cards huh big guy?”

Dean walks and sits by the monster's head as it watches him settle down on the floor. Even with the glaze of exhaustion, those midnight blue eyes pierce right through Dean. 

It’s strange. Dean thought he’d be more panicked, or maybe the familiar rush of adrenaline would rise and course through him whenever Dean sees something he’s been trained to kill. 

Instead he feels oddly calm, only a slight curl of concern in his centre as he observes the unfocused pupils and slow blinks, precious life hanging on through pure tenacity. Man if John could see him now… well Dean wouldn’t even be here if he was around so, maybe it's his fault. 

Or maybe Dean’s just tired of shedding blood in his blind attempt to feed the hole left inside of him. When he looks at the blood that's staining his body, seeping into his shirt and hand, he's surprised by how normal he feels. He helped someone tonight he realises, a healer instead of a soldier. He stopped the blood, instead of watching it burst out of a pierced skull from the two bullet rounds he fired into it. He doesn't feel sick and blackened to his core for being good at killing things like he was ordained to do it, or for losing another person because he's been destined to fail everyone he loves.

“Yknow, I might really have gone off the edge this time.” Dean says to himself despondently.

Dean swears he sees the pair of eyes staring back at him sharpen slightly, but the Were simply huffs out another breath, feigning ignorance. Dean smiles a little.

“Well you better get some rest sunshine. I’ll wake you up when it’s time to change your bandages and stuff so…” Dean trails off as he watches the Werewolf start to slip away, one step ahead of Dean.

Slow and rhythmic breaths puff out from the Werewolf. Laboured but not painful enough to disturb his sleep too much. Dean’s quietly glad. It really is a marvel to just be watching a gigantic monster passed out on his cabin floor, cozied up in front of his fireplace instead of y’know– trying to maul his face off like most other monsters in the past have.

It’s not so threatening when its face is laxed like this, just softly slumbering away. No adrenaline rush when Dean sees the flash of finger-length canines when the Were’s mouth twitches in its sleep. Just curiosity, fascinated even. His mind trails back to the realisation that this thing has been his little secret admirer for the past couple of weeks, and now it’s trusting Dean readily with its life. He's still not sure what to make of it yet. 

Dean opts to sleep a few hours on his sofa, wanting to be close to the Were in case it needs him, and thoroughly exhausted from lugging it into his cabin. His sticky bloody clothes aren't even enough to dissuade him from sleep, crashing immediately as he lays down.

The next time he rises is when he hears a low bellowing growl from his furry companion. Dean gets down to the floor slowly to see the Were still sleeping, but fitfully. He tries to settle it by petting its arm, surprised by how soft the fur growing there is, and almost immediately the Were starts to calm. Grumbling sleepily in a way that makes Dean laugh softly. He's kinda cute for a monster built like a truck.

Throughout the next few days, Dean tends to the Were in the ways he knows how. It doesn't really stay conscious for more than like 15 minutes at a time, usually when he's changing its bandages or when he's fed what Dean has stashed away in his stores for the winter. The wounds do seem to be closing up though. Some of that built in Were healing must be coming back to him slowly as Dean helps it regain its strength.

It's on the 4th day, when Dean is out in the early morning swinging his axe down into some damp wood, that the Were decides it's well enough to move. 

He hears some clattering of furniture from inside the cabin and runs back in to find his Were stumbling on his feet to stay upright. Dean doesn't think twice before he's closing in, trying to catch the idiot before he falls on his face, forgetting for a second that it's a damn bloodthirsty monster.

The Were growls at him when Dean lifts up its arm over his shoulder and he goes tense, wondering if he's about to get his head bitten off. 

Instead the Were breathes in and whimpers softly, poking Dean's face with its nose softly and then pointing it towards the direction of the bandaged wounds.

“O-oh, sorry. Didn't mean to pull on it, I'll be more careful.” Dean breathes out shakily, “But hey what are you doing standing up if it's still not healed big guy? Gonna get yourself hurt again.” 

The Were doesn't respond, preferring to keep the ocean blue slits of its pupils fixed on Dean's face. 

Dean breathes out a sigh and tugs it over to the couch so it can at least sit down. It follows obediently and stares at the couch with a head tilt when Dean directs him onto it.

“It's just a couch dude. Cmon, you need to take it easy if you're gonna be awake for longer.”

He's given another long stare before the Were starts to climb onto the couch on all fours, carefully laying it's overgrown body over the expanse of it and rolling around gently to make its claim over it. He finds the pillow Dean uses to nap sometimes and buries his snout in it promptly, claiming that as well. Well, good thing Dean has a litany of other pillows for no good reason in his bedroom. 

“Jeez. You really are an oversized animal huh? Might as well call you Clifford.”

The Were frowns at his joke and yawns at him.

“Caaasss.”

Dean is stunned as the rumbling thunder speaks its name into the shaking boards of the cabin.

“W-what?” Dean says dumbly.

“Caaaasssss.” he says, more impatiently this time, and Dean shudders again with every gravelly syllable.

“Oh that's– that's your name?”

Cas grunts once and licks his canines, settling his head back onto the pillow as he blinks at Dean.

“Cool. That's– wow yeah, I'm Dean, by the way.”

Cas puffs out air from his nose and nods slowly, eyes going droopy with sleep.

“Deeeaaaaannnn.” Cas rumbles, but gentler this time, more like rolling waves in low tide.

“Yeah, that's me.” Dean says with a small smile, “Alright, well how're you feeling Cas? You still probably need rest but, looks like the wounds are healing up pretty ok to me. Right?”

Cas blinks up at him, his ears twitching and flapping as he considers his words carefully.

“Saaaaaafffe.” Cas bellows, soft gratitude forming even in the predatorial shaping of his hunter eyes.

Dean rubs the back of his neck and shrugs, a faint blush growing.

“Yeah, you're safe now buddy. I–I couldn't leave you like that. You stay as long as you need ‘kay?.”

“Staaaaay?” 

“Yeah– if you want to, that is.” Dean repeats awkwardly, trying to contain the fluttering hope building.

Castiel just hums inquisitively, piercing through to Dean soul with his weighted attention.

“You're in pain man, and I figured you don't mean me no harm. I mean, you're the one that's been watching me right? Guess if you wanted to have your way with me you already would've. So yeah, you can stay.” Dean answers, more sure this time.

Maybe he should be more surprised about how easy it is to admit that. Or how easily he's come to trust the Werewolf in no time at all.

Cas doesn't say anything, just keeps on giving Dean that oddly soft look before he's passing out again. His oversized body draped over his ratty lil couch and Dean's pillow stuffed protectively under his gullet.

Dean scrubs his face, trying to figure out what the hell he's doing, failing to come to any sensible conclusion before he's off to finish his daily rituals.

By nightfall, the moon has risen into fullness, a lens of glittering white that shines onto the settled snow. Dean is on his front porch, staring up into its pale light, letting it create a thin film of silver over his worn out features. 

His mind drifts. Dwells on a sense of purpose that has slowly been refuelled these past few days with Cas. His role of caregiver settling in again like a quarter in a jukebox, playing out those familiar notes for his heart to croon out again, it's a comfort to return to something he knows, something he was once good at.

He knows it won't last, but it's a nice change from how lonely his penance feels sometimes. It will never absolve the guilt, but it tricks his mind into believing he's doing fine. Maybe Cas will get strong enough to carry a real conversation with Dean before he decides to move along with his life. Dean will take that, it'll last him a few months if he rations off that feeling of frail connection. 

He's snapped out of his thoughts when he hears Cas' heavy footsteps approaching him, and without looking Dean waves a hand, inviting Cas to sit on the porch steps with him. The werewolf moves after a few seconds of contemplating, large limbs still somehow moving gracefully as he crosses his legs. 

“I guess you're feeling better if you're walking straight. That's good, I was worried for a while there. Those were some gnarly wounds.”

Cas simply grunts in ruffled agreement, tail swishing slowly behind him.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” Dean asks carefully.

Cas is pretty stoic in general, but he's downright stony as he stares into the forest scapes, blue eyes frosty with indignant rage and hurt.

“I just… I knew there was something out there that wasn't a regular animal. Didn't expect it to be you that's for sure, but I'm thinking there's more guys like you out there. Ones that wanted to hurt you, only thing I can't figure out is why? Ain't packs supposed to protect each other? They're family.” 

Cas turns finally to Dean, slanted eyes drooping in sadness. It's heartbreaking, to see such a fearsome being suffer something as human as betrayal.

“Caas… Leaaavee.”

“They told you to leave, that it?”

Cas hums in confirmation, and Dean waits to hear more instead of asking, considering that maybe Cas just wants some time to think.

“Caaas watch Deannn, like Deannn. Dean, good.” Cas stutters out, “but wolf stay in pack, not with human. So, Cas leave. Cas traitor.” 

Dean's penchant for anger flares at the idea of Cas' family alienating him, attacking him. But he knows he can't begin to understand why Cas is hurting, why he was abandoned and hurt for who he is. So instead he shuffles closer and presses his leg against Cas', pleased when Cas presses back without a word.

“Listen I might not know much about Were's, but no one deserves to be treated like you were by family Cas. You're better off without them. So you're different, who cares? You seem good to me, although I know my opinion don't mean much.” Dean laughs.

Cas grumbles before nosing at Dean's temple.

“No. Deaannn goood.”

Dean blinks dumbly as the werewolf repeats himself and smiles softly at him, genuinely fucking smiles as he calls Dean out on his bullshit.

“Y–yeah ok, whatever you say big guy. Cmon let's go back inside it's getting too fuckin' cold and unfortunately for me I ain't got a thick pelt of fur.”

Cas huffs in amusement before he gets up slowly and follows Dean in.

Dean dreams that might, a version of himself that's more bold and self-serving, climbing on the couch with Cas and warming himself up with Cas' furry body encasing him as they sleep, a gentle embrace from a creature built to devour.

Dean spends most of the next day out by himself, walking past Cas a few times who seems to be back to sleeping in more, sweaty and smelling slightly more than usual. Dean wonders if he's getting sick or something, so he tries to soothe him by petting his fur, waiting until Cas settles a bit before going back out to get some dinner.

By the time he returns to the cabin with a rabbit to hopefully put Cas in a better mood, he hears a loud bellowing growl from within. 

Assuming the worst, Dean drops everything and rushes in without thinking, immediately hit with a sharp scent that sends tingles up his nerves. A rich saccharine odour, thick and heady as it permeates the air within the cabin. It leads him deeper within until Dean steps tentatively towards his bedroom, the echoed scrapes of claws making his throat tight with anxiety.

Bedsheets and clothing have been strewn about all over the floor, like it's been rummaged through and tossed aside for want of more. More importantly though, Dean sees Cas in the far corner, illuminated only by the faint moonlight, his dark pelt like a shadow that paints his tall and fearsome silhouette. 

Dean stands stock still as he watches Cas gnawing on his pillow like it's a baby deer trapped inside his powerful jaws. Drooling all over his neck and chest like he can't wait to consume his meal, eyes gone sharp and deadly with excitement, snout twitching and sniffing out the scent imbued into the fabric. 

That is until Cas sniffs out the source of it, standing only a few feet away.

Cas snaps his head towards Dean in the doorway, dropping the pillow from his snarling teeth, pupils dilating and fur standing on edge as Dean feels his knees go weak.

“Cas–?” Dean asks, slightly terrified by the predatorial display, but his head is overwhelmed by the salty musk choking his senses, he can hardly even stand up. He can't help but notice that aside from Cas' ravenous eyes, his dick is standing tall, the dark glossy black foreskin stretched full and leaking thick pre-cum from the tip.

It's fucking huge.

Dean doesn't think before he takes a step back, upsetting Cas and making him snarl. The Were get on all fours, creeping towards Dean slowly, tension threatening to erupt in the room.

Dean needs to make a run for it, there's no other option if Cas has gone feral for whatever fucking reason. No reasoning with an animal that's gone one track minded.

Dean turns and flies down the hallway, breath stuttering as he hears Cas bounding after him from behind, claws scraping against the floors and walls. He barely gets as far as a few metres, severely underestimating just how fast Cas is, and in a flash he’s been caught by his leg. 

A massive paw engulfs his ankle, while another hand quickly secures his capture as it wraps around Dean's waist and pulls him down under Cas’ heaving body. All Dean is left to do is look up in fear at Cas' hungry mouth, his heart beating a mile a minute as a flood of memories about all the words his Dad used to tell him about keeping his head in the game rush in. 

He's forgotten how afraid he can feel when he's in real danger, how pathetically weak he is compared to a monster he's not prepared to fight. How even with his miserable life, his instinct is to beg to be saved to some imaginary force, to cling to his pathetic existence because fuck, he still doesn't want to die. Not like this.

Cas growls low and deep as his jaw widens over Dean's head, the expanse of it enough to bite it off in one succinct snap. Dean closes his eyes and prays that he won't be made to suffer long. Cas doesn't do that though, he doesn't do anything in fact. He just hovers above, stale breath hitting Dean's nostrils and causing them to flare out.

Dean manages to overcome the waterfalls of rushing blood in his ears to look Cas in his eyes again, to figure out what's stopped him. Instead of a murderous and mindless glare he expects to find, Cas looks at him with conflicting emotion, fear and hunger. Like Cas is holding glass in his throat and trying not to swallow. 

Dean locks eyes with him and swallows dryly. It'd be a risky bet to make, but what little he thinks he knows and understands about Cas tells him that right now, Cas is scared of himself too.

“C-Cas look, whatever's happening, I can help alright? Just don't– don't hurt me, please? Let me help you.” 

Cas growls at Dean but it's almost in frustration at himself as he tries to fight his instincts. Dean reaches out with his arm, surprised that it's even free, and then not surprised at all, because he was right. 

Dean feels himself come back into his body with a deep breath when Cas leans into his touch. His fearsome claws are gritted against the floorboards above Dean's head, his large body hovering. He's not pressed down on Dean's body like a monster ready to devour, he's trying so hard to stop himself. An iron will to stop his instincts from making Dean his prey, he's sure of that now. Cas doesn't want to hurt him, but he doesn't quite want him to leave either.

“Hey, hey it's ok Cas. You're ok. I'm not going anywhere, yeah? Just calm down.” Dean whispers to him, using his shaky hand to pet the side of Cas' furry face.

Cas' growl takes a second to soften, but through Dean's coaxing, it transitions into sad apologetic whines. Cas brings his snout under Dean's jaw and nuzzles it gently. Dean smiles, accepting the gesture gratefully and hugging Cas' head.

“It's alright Cas. No harm done yeah? Just tell me how to help you.”

Cas moves back again, a droning sound resonating from his burly chest, the want in his eyes resurging again.

“Maaaateee.” 

Dean's jaw hangs agape a few moments, and then Cas stands up at full height, his throbbing dick painfully hard and towering over Dean's torso. Suddenly it all clicks for him.

“W-Wait hold on. You wanna mate me?”

It's like the words alone could make Cas cum for him, an aroused groan trembling out of Cas' throat. Holy fuck, yeah Cas is extremely horny for him that's– Well Dean is surprised to say the least. It's hard to tell whether the adrenaline is making his heart beat faster, or if it's because he's secretly getting on board.

“Maaate, Deeeeaaannn?” Cas asks him, nosing at Dean's cheek and whining slightly at him.

Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.

There's no way he's actually considering this right? Even logistically this is– this is kind of insane. He's no stranger to taking dicks, at least when he was younger, but Cas' cock, that thing is built for other monsters. Not Dean's very human body. 

Shit, why does that make it more exciting though? 

Everything about Cas being a giant overgrown, hairy, horny mess of a monster with a huge dick is fucking hot actually. God he really is insane.

“If– If we do this… you promise you'll listen to me? Cas I can't do this if I feel like you won't stop when I ask… ok?” 

Cas eyes widen but he settles down and nuzzles Dean's cheek again, giving it a few kitten licks until Dean starts laughing and pushing his snout away. Cas looks more like himself when he stares at Dean after, elated to have Dean agree.

“Deeeaaaaannnn, saaafe.” Cas promises as he licks Dean's neck and stuffs his nose there, huffing his scent and whining happily, “Maaaate.”

Dean feels himself breathe a little easier whatever is going on with Cas, he wants Dean to be his willing mating partner. Explains his obsession with Dean's smell, and why he's being so affectionate too. He wants to make sure Dean wants him back. There's no greater turn off than a partner rejecting you when you need to get your rocks off, he can understand that much.

It’s heartwarming honestly, Dean hasn't felt wanted in a while… And hell, humans get hungry for sex and connection too. Dean thought for a while he could never be hungry like that again, not until now.

Shit, he's gonna fuck a Werewolf, isn't he?

“Ok… I can't believe we're doing this– but not here, we're doing this in bed, big guy. Mind letting me up?”

Cas fulfils his request, only he does so by lifting Dean up effortlessly into his tree trunk arms and carries him bridal style into the bedroom. 

Dean could pretend to hate it, but there's no use denying it now. It's fucking hot. He has no idea how sex with a friggin’ werewolf goes, but God, he kinda hopes he gets thrown around again, just in a sexy way this time.

Cas lays him down gently on the bed and rubs his head against Dean's face and neck, getting his scent all over Dean. Claiming him. 

That's what he's been fuckin’ doing with all of Dean's pillows and sheets, the trees that have been clawed up. Mixing his werewolf smell and his territory around the cabin because he’s a soft but possessive little shit who’s pining over Dean. 

Dean hides his growing blush by getting his own fill of Cas' scent, burrowing into his neck fur, greedily taking a whiff of musky sweat and moaning gently. Fuck why does he smell so good? It's like a goddamn aphrodisiac. He ruts up and groans impatiently at Cas' body being too far away, wrapping his ankles as much as he can around Cas' wide waist and nudging him down.

“C’mon sweetheart, already said you could didn't I? Don't have to be so careful, I trust you.” Dean whispers, petting Cas' fluffy fur. 

Cas freezes in hesitation, but not a second later Dean feels Cas grind his weight down and wrap his giant arms under and over Dean's body, enveloping him in fur and a smog of pheromones. It should feel like he's being crushed, but Cas is being careful with him, applying just enough pressure and moving his lithe body like clockwork to rut against Dean's body. 

Dean moans as the silky fur and sinewed muscles create gorgeous friction all over him, his thighs quivering and his bare belly being tickled pleasantly from where his shirt is being ridden up. God he wants to be naked for this, needs to feel all that glorious heat and fur on his bare skin.

“C–Cas, hold on a second, we gotta get my clothes off. Hey, don't even think about tearing them off buddy I see that look in your eye! I like these pants and I don't got many.”

Cas lets him sit up but hovers over him hungrily, growling and drooling, eyeing every inch of skin slowly being revealed as Dean takes his shirt off. It's exhilarating, to be watched like a piece of meat ready to be devoured, knowing that Cas could break him in half if he didn't have better control. Cas won't do that, but he could.

Cas gets impatient and takes matters into his own hands, carefully hooking a large claw into Dean's pants and pulling down torturously slow, his nose sniffing along Dean's thigh as he does. Dean blushes as Cas drags his nose along Dean's entire body, paying particular attention to his crotch and inner thigh, even his pits, wherever he smells the strongest he supposes.

“Do I smell that good Cas?” Dean asks with a weak smile, far too gone to put on his full charm.

Cas eyes him with sharp lust and growls in confirmation.

“Miiiiiiinnnneeee.” Cas answers, sending shivers down Dean's bare body.

Dean doesn't get to react to that particular statement because Cas shuffles down and licks a stripe up Dean's torso with that ridiculously long wet tongue of his, slow and self indulging, groaning happily as he tastes the salt of Dean's skin.

“F–fuck Cas warn a guy! Ah–!”

Cas starts making broad licks on Dean's pec, his rough tongue catching on Dean’s nipple and sending a shock of pleasure throughout his body. Dean holds on tight to the fur on Cas' hair with a single hand, and Cas growls in pleasure. Guess Cas likes it a little rough too.

Cas takes his other arm and places it parallel to the other one and Dean reactively holds on tight. Satiated with Dean's obedience, he uses the opportunity to start licking Dean's underarm, huffing and savouring his sweat.

“Cas you kinky fucker…” Dean says breathless, head thrown back as he moans and curses softly. 

He’s never been with anyone who indulges in his body like this, like every inch of him is a feast to be savoured, but Cas does it with enthusiasm. Grazing his teeth and mouthing against Dean’s pit hair, sniffing at it with a gravelly moan. The intimacy of it has Dean caught up in his emotions, he's not been touched in years let alone worshipped.

“Cas.” Dean whispers, throat tight as he catches the Were’s searching gaze.

Cas leans up to kiss him, gentle and slow, reassuring his mate, comforting him. Fuck, he has no goddamn idea how he got here but there's no turning back. He fucking needs Cas.

Once Cas is done slobbering over Dean's pits and leaving him a whining mess, he moves to grab Dean's thighs, his massive hands wrapping around them entirely, tugging them towards his bared teeth and nipping at Dean's waistband.

“T-Take ‘em off Cas, it's ok. Want you to, please?” Dean asks, petting Cas' snout and watching his eyes mix with fondness and lust.

Cas doesn't waste time and Dean isn't feeling patient either, both of them working together to slip Dean's soaked boxers off and free him from its confines. 

Cas salivates at the sight of Dean fully bared for him, his hot steamy breaths puffing onto Dean's wet cunt. He holds out his tongue and growls even deeper than before. Hungry for it.

In a flash Cas has Dean's legs ensnared by his thick hands, pushed up and spread out, Cas tongue lolling out as he pants and drools down onto his hole, hot wet spit coating it.

“C–Cas!” Dean says, patently ignoring the way his voice rises an octaves at being spread open, completely at Cas' mercy and drooled on. Fuck does it make him horny though, hes never been harder in his life.

Satisfied that he's pooled enough saliva onto Dean, Cas moves two large clawed fingers down, and for a second Dean panics because he doesn't particularly want the equivalent to a machete blade near his crotch.

Sensing Dean's tension, Cas lifts his hands, and slowly starts to retract his claws, as if they were never there. For good measure, he starts to poke at Dean's cheeks repeatedly until Dean starts to shudder a laugh and slaps his hand away.

“Ok ok you big lug, I get it. Didn't know they could do that though, cool.” 

He stores the information for later and quickly gets his mind back on board when Cas starts to play with his dick, thumbing at the head and using two other fingers to slide along his wet hole.

“Ohhh fuckkkkk Cas, Cas– put ‘em in, wanna feel ‘em inside sweetheart.” Dean moans.

Cas rumbles low, pleased by Dean's need, circling for a little longer to get his thick finger wet before sliding inside his hole. 

Dean breathes out another shaky moan and he gets used to the intrusion, eyes fluttering closed. Holy fuck, it's only one finger but the pressure is already so fucking good, makes it even better that Cas keeps using his free hand to jerk him off. The dual sensations have Dean's thighs shaking, feet driving into the mattress to find purchase while Cas crooks his finger up and around to make him squirm.

“Cas, Cas, oh fuck Cas that's good, so good baby, God fuck put another one in please.” 

Cas growls at the rising pitch and need in Dean's voice, nosing at the base of jaw and licking, baring his teeth over the meat of his neck and slowly adding another muscled finger. The pressure doubles alongside the pleasure, a rising arc in sensation that has Dean seeing white spots. God if he's already this affected he's gonna have his mind broken from taking Cas’ dick.

Cas takes his two fingers and spreads them apart to widen Dean’s hole, letting Cas drool another warm line of spit inside him, fucking the saliva deep inside Dean with his fingers to get him soaked, inside and out. Getting him ready for that meaty fucking cock. 

Dean whines, straight up just whines thinking about how much fuller that cock is gonna make him feel, how it's gonna piston out of him and leave him fucking gaping, how Cas probably wants to cum buckets inside Dean because for whatever fucking reason, Cas wants to have him as his mate, his partner. All of it combined with a third digit being added and screwing upwards into Dean's cunt sends Dean over the edge, cumming onto Cas’ fingers, holding onto the forearm that pins his leg down for dear life.

“Cas Cas fuck Cas oh fuck!” Dean mumbles as he rides out the orgasm, hips moving in their own as Cas fucks him through it.

Cas seems pleased by Dean’s cumming for him so explosively, licking and kissing his cock affectionately as Dean comes down from the high.

“Deannnnnn, maaaaate?” Cas asks again.

He makes his intentions very clear as he rises up to his mountainous height, slapping his fattened cock down against Dean’s hole and grinding it against the sensitive skin there, the tip of his cock brushing against Dean’s dick making it perk up again in eager interest, an obscene amount precum glazing over them both.

“Fuckin’ hell– You’re insatiable y’know that?”

Cas bends down and licks at Dean’s lips with a whine, and Dean gives in to kiss him back, humming softly as Cas licks strokes against his tongue and the rows of his teeth. 

Dean pushes him back a bit and grips a tuft of fur behind Cas’ ear.

“You wanna be inside me that bad Cas? Wanna fill me up with that fat cock?” Dean whispers, on the border of going delirious with lust when Cas thrusts against him harder, panting and whining against Dean’s neck.

“Deannnnn, Deaaaaaaannnnnnn!” Cas bellows, grazing his large canines along the vulnerable cord of Dean’s neck.

Cas craving Dean’s hole, moaning his name long and low and hungry, desperate to fuck him open with that huge cock, Dean swallows all of that need as they make out sloppily, sucking on Cas' broad tongue, moaning in satisfaction as he strokes Cas’ weeping cock. 

“F-Fuck Cas, I'm ready, put it in sweetheart. Go slow though yeah?”

Cas nuzzles against his neck one last time in gratitude before he’s pulling back.

Dean gulps as he watches Cas direct his girthy cock downwards, his thick thighs bracketing and locking Dean into position. He silently prays he’s relaxed enough from Cas’ smothering and fingering to take that monster without being split open. 

A mind-numbing pressure makes his thighs quake as Cas slowly slides his tip in, already stretching Dean til he aches, but fuck its so good he can hardly care. Dean moans lewdly as Cas lifts up his thighs by his ankles, pressing his own against the back of Dean’s ass, groaning wildly as Dean swallows him inch by glorious inch.

“Cas, oh God, fuck fuck Cas– f-feel so good, holy shit you’re fucking stretching me out Cas oh fuck!” Dean moans out shakily, tears forming in his eyes as he feels Cas connect them both at the deepest level.

His moans rise in pitch as Cas’ cock feels like it’s going to keep penetrating him forever, pushing inside him endlessly. Getting deeper and deeper until Dean thinks he can fucking feel it prod at his belly.

“Cassss, Cas Cas fuck, gimme– gimme a sec, shit. God you’re so fuckin’ big Cas, feels like an arm inside me.” Dean pants and squirms, his hole clenching around the cock buried inside it, making Cas choke out a moan in response, trying hard to give Dean his reprieve when its clear he’s about 2 seconds away from fucking him like a ragdoll. He's still a sweetheart though, licking away at Dean's tears and checking in on him.

Dean kisses him sweet and slow in gratitude.

He gives himself a good few seconds, and while Cas’ dick still feel fucking enormous inside him, he’s also quickly getting addicted to how good it feels to be filled up this much, tightly packed inside of him like he’s about to rip apart, the bulge of Cas' cock at his belly an unbelievable but erotic sight.

Being fucked til he breaks starts to sound more and more appealing by the second.

“Cas, Cas cmon, I–I need you to move. Fuck me Cas, please God fuck me already, need it so fucking bad sweetheart.” Dean says with unabashed want, rolling his hips and causing them both to stutter out moans from the hit of pleasure as Cas dick presses inside deeper.

“Yessssssss, Deannnnn maaaaateee!” 

Cas responds fervently, finally moving his own hips, slow grinding circles that turn into gentle slaps against the back of Dean’s thighs, but even that is enough to make Dean see stars. The base of Cas’ thick cock pulls in and out in short slides and makes filthy wet sounds as it stretches him gorgeously, the swell of his stomach rolling up and down where Cas' cock is pressing against his walls. Dean could fucking laugh in how insane the sight is if he wasn't busy choking on the pleasure.

“A-Ah, fuu-uck Cas!”

Dean has about 2 brain cells working well enough to remind him to touch himself, reaching down to fondle his dick, thumbing at the sensitive head all while Cas hollows him out, his massive hands pushing Dean’s legs up to fold him in half and gripping them so hard they’ll probably bruise. 

Dean wants to be bruised, marked up for his mate, wants to feel the ache in his hole and the phantom touches of Cas gentle but powerful hands. He wants to belong. Or at least he wants to pretend to, just for a little longer, to live in this moment for the next few days.

He's a fucking mess, and he needs Cas to pile drive into him till next weekend to forget just how bad he's gotten, but his Were still seems to be holding back. All that strength in those powerful thighs being retained when all Dean wants is to be pounded til his muscles are sore and red from Cas slapping against them.

“F-fuck cmon Cas, know you can do better than that. Fuck me Cas, you said you were gonna mate me, so fuckin’ do it sweetheart. Mate my cunt, it’s all yours.”

Cas growls at him in heated arousal, eyes going black with lust, and Dean grins. 

There's his monster.

Cas starts to pick up the pace as he gets lost in Dean’s heat, grunting as he pulls out more of his lengthy cock and slaps it back into Dean with heavier force, shaking the bedframe and Dean’s body, fucking him with need and a goddamn promise that Dean’s gonna be fucked within an inch of his life. 

Dean cant stop himself from wailing in overwhelming pleasure as Cas fucks him for real, rapid thrusts of his giant cock that echo the room with wet slaps, forcing Dean’s cunt to open wider and wider to make room for the massive cock, but all Dean can do in response to the persistent insertion is to tighten his walls around it, milk the precum that makes his cunt even fucking wetter. A riveting cycle of Cas breaking him open and Dean swallowing down, wanting to be fucked wider with every repetition. 

“Oh shit Cas, Cas Cas! Mm fuck, feel you so deep holy shit, fucking my guts up Cas!”

Dean isn't even forming words when Cas growls like a beast, pins him down and envelops Dean with his massive arms, pulling him towards his hairy chest. Dean instinctively wraps his limbs around him and hangs on for dear life when Cas fucks his cock downwards into his cunt, the tip of his dick prodding relentlessly at his sweet spot, sliding down far enough to nudge at his cervix.

Dean is reminded that the purpose of this is so Cas can fucking breed him, and every animal instinct within him screams in delight at being promised a bounty of cum for him to take.

“Fuck that's it Cas right there! Want your dick even deeper, wanna feel you cum inside me and make my belly full. Wanna be full for you Cas, please, please Cas fuck me harder please!” Dean rambles, eyes dripping in hot pleasured tears as he gasps out his begged wishes.

Cas isn't doing much better, choking on his howls as he listens and gets lost in Dean's body, both of them reduced to a mumbled mantra of names and whined staggered moans. Cas' need reaches its peak, pounding him into the mattress a few final times before he's squeezing Dean's body tight, stuffing his face full of that addictive scent, until Dean feels Cas’ cock swell as a hot wet flooding sensation fills his cunt up.

“Deeeeeaaaaannnnn!” Cas roars, locking himself within Dean as he pumps and pumps cum inside Dean’s womb. 

Dean's eyes roll to the back of his head, his voice caught in his throat, overwhelmed with the shocks of pleasure running through every nerve and the rushing warmth that's filling up his belly til it starts to swell up from how full it's getting. 

“Oh jesus fuck–” Dean cuts himself off on a choked moan as he feels the white hot rush of cum seep out of him like a broken dam and a second additional pressure at the entrance of his hole, watching as Cas dick swells to a knot at his base and slowly push past to lock inside of him. 

Even with the knot squeezed tight inside him, Cas is cumming way too much to contain all of it, forcing the excess out like an overflowing bottle. The only things grounding him to Earth right now is Cas' herculean body squeezing him close and his hands trying not to claw at the Were's bandaged shoulders.  

Dean revels in the scent of Cas and his sweat evaporating into the atmosphere and the sounds of his wet cunt leaking all over the mattress, staining it as Cas fucks his cum out of Dean's needy hole only for his balls to rise up and fill up the space with even more when Dean's cunt squeezes on his knot. His head is numb with pleasure, limbs weakly hanging on to the expanse of Cas' body as he keeps grinding into Dean's hole as the threadbare remnants of his orgasm burn off.

The room is filthy, humid and sticky, and It's gonna be an unpleasant mess by the end, but Dean doesn't have any regrets. He doesn't know how he's going back to just jerking off after being fucked like that.

Cas sort of collapses on him when he's done, his dick still slotted inside Dean like arm and the fucker is taking a cat nap.

“Hey big guy, as much as I love a weighted blanket you're kinda crushing me.” Dean says, winded for a number of reasons.

Cas whines in apology and gently rolls himself off to the side but drags Dean along with him so he's buried in a faceful of Cas' chest fur, massive limbs bear hugging him. 

Dean huffs in amusement at Cas' cuddly tendencies, shivering as his knots reduces and slips out, the cum leaking out of his hole. Clean up is gonna be freakin’ bitch, but that's a problem for future Dean.

“Christ, I don't know what the hell I was saying during that Cas… think you’ve got me drunk on you or something.” Dean mutters to himself, scrubbing his face as his post nut clarity hits him. 

Cas sniffs and looks up at Dean curiously, but his eyes flit down to where Dean’s abdomen bulges, eyes going hungry again as he salivates, cock twitching in interest.

“Oh hell no! You gotta give me at least a 15 minute break before getting back in there dude.” Dean huffs in exasperation, pushing Cas' snout away as he whines in horny frustration to his mate.

Cas seems to accept that he's not fucking Dean again for at least a little while, but that doesn't stop his interest in Dean's slightly inflated belly, licking and petting with his nose and tongue, happy little noises elicited from throat.

“Ourrrrs…” Cas rumbles proudly.

Dean's heart stutters for a second at the implication.

“You– you're serious about this? You actually– shit.” 

Ok, so his werewolf stray now turned mate that he's quickly catching feelings for also wants to actually make a baby and it wasn't just because he was in a rut and needed to get his rocks off with Dean's help. Fucking shit, how did he get here again?

Cas whines, gently inquiring as he sniffs out Dean's panic.

“What if… what if I didn't want that– right now I mean?” 

Cas sits up when he hears that, but he seems calmer than Dean expected for how intent he seemed on that whole breeding thing. But then again, so was Dean.

“I just… we ain't in any position to have a kid right now– and well I don't know if I even can anymore Cas. Would… would you still want me as your mate?”

Dean breathing is heavy and erratic as he looks into Cas' fond eyes.

“Yesss, Deannn mate. No matter what.” Cas sounds out, kissing him sweetly before tugging him into his fuzzy chest.

Immediately Dean sinks into his warmth, relief seeping into his body.

“Thanks Cas… I'll try to be the mate you deserve”.

They snooze for a bit but soon Dean can feel Cas rutting up against his thigh with need, still half asleep as he seeks relief. Dean finds it's the perfect opportunity to start showing he can take care of his mate, give him exactly what he needs. And maybe also because he really wants to suck Cas' dick.

Dean worms his way out of Cas' massive arms avoiding the swiping limbs trying to hold on to him, straddling Cas' legs as he gives his hardening cock firm strokes, smiling as Cas sighs in pleasure.

Dean shifts down a bit and he's hit with the heady musk of Cas' dick, moaning in delight, eager to get in his mouth. He can't wait to see what Cas tastes like.

He licks at the bottom of the thick shaft, taking his other hand and rolling Cas’ heavy balls and grinning as Cas wakes up sharply, growling proudly at the sight of his lover pleasuring him.

“Morning big guy, thought I'd help you out. You don't mind?”

Cas grunts impatiently, hips gliding upwards as Dean rubs his beard along the side of Cas' dick. 

“Dean!” Cas reproaches, making Dean chuckle a bit as he takes the hint.

He carefully suckles on the head of Cas' cock, licking the velvety skin and getting used to the headspace again. It's been a while since he's had any sex, and sucking dick is something he used to be pretty good at. He just has to get his bearings again.

Cas particularly enjoys it when Dean tries licking into his slit a bit, surprised by how far he can get in with his tongue without even trying. Benefit of having a monster genitalia he muses, licking up the precum leaking from Cas' tip, steadily coating his chin as it drips down.

Dean feels Cas' reach behind while he's busy stroking up and down Cas' cock. He fits the head in his mouth, swirling his tongue and moans gently as Cas slides his long fingers down Dean's ass crack, pushing and rubbing his hole. Dean groans around Cas' dick, swallowing it down a little more as he spreads his legs, giving Cas better access as he teases Dean's rim. Dipping in just enough to get past the muscle but never enough to fully penetrate. 

It drives Dean mad with pleasure, his hole twitching while he takes Cas' in his mouth further and further. His brain goes blank with the scent of Cas, pairing perfectly with the salty meaty taste of his cock, drooling messily around it as he slurps and sucks, not caring to be neat or patient. 

Cas responds enthusiastically, his unoccupied hand coming to rest on Dean's head, watching hungrily as his mate gorges on his cock. Never pressing down. But the heavy weight of it is enough for Dean to feel hot and tingly with an addicting sense of submission. Maybe when they get to know eachother better he'll ask Cas to go ahead and fuck his throat, to force his head down and make Dean choke. But right now Dean loves his mate for giving him just enough control to enjoy this how he wants.

“Deannn. Turnnn.” Cas growls, voice deep with lust.

Dean doesn't question it, just slips his aching mouth off Cas for a second and turns his body, presenting his ass, feeling bare but in the best way. He groans as Cas parts his cheeks roughly, looking over his shoulder as Cas licks his teeth like an animal about to devour its meal.

He gets no warning as Cas dives in for his kill, slurping up Dean's hole. 

“Oh fuck, fuck ohmygod” Dean moans, faltering on his knees and his mind blacks out from the sudden pleasure.

Cas flicks up his tongue and massages the crease of his ass for a while, collecting the spit and lathering it evenly over his cock and his hole.  

“Oh god fuck mmf– Cas y-your fucking tongue. S-so good, feels so good Cas, don't fucking stop!”

Dean writhes and claws at the sheets as Cas uses the entire expanse of his tongue to slide in-between his crack, a permanent wet muscle that kneads against both holes incessantly. 

God, he needs it inside, needs to know what it would feel like to have that hot wet tongue slipping inside of him and curling upwards, bending his insides to Cas will.

“C-Cas, use your tongue, inside me baby, want your tongue fucking me.” 

Cas’ eyes flare with a craving thirst, before he’s spreading Dean’s legs open more and widening his mouth, steaming breaths wetting Dean’s crotch as his tongue prods the opening of Dean’s asshole, sliding in with gentle force, waiting for Dean to loosen up until–

“Oh fuck yes, fuck Cas mm!”

Dean writhes as Cas’ tongue licks into him deep and incessantly, a melting slick muscle that curls and grazes his insides like a flame of pleasure. He only has half a mind to remember the leaking dick in front of him and gets back to work, engulfing his mouth and moaning around it, feeling it twitch in his mouth as the vibrations shoot up Cas' cock. 

Cas slurps and sucks on his hole as he fucks his tongue inside, using his bottom row of teeth to nudge and grind against Dean’s swollen cock gently, sending shocks of pleasure up Dean’s body. Fucking hell, he’s not felt this good in years, jerking off never gets him this sensitive. Something about the novelty of 69ing with a hot ass werewolf with a gigantic dick that's unhinging his jaw to fit, the way he’s eating Dean out like he’s possessed, the knowledge that Dean finally belongs to someone again and doesn't feel alone for once in his life, it all has Dean on the precipice of an orgasm already.

Dean pops his mouth off Cas dick as he feels his orgasm rush through his entire body “Cas– Cas fuck, keep– keep eating me out like that, oh God fuck yes baby make me cum, make cum Cas please. C-Cas, Cas Cas Cas–!”

Dean feels his body convulse as a thrum of pleasure crashes into his body, waves of his orgasm shuddering every nerve lining his muscles. He reaches back to grip the fur on Cas’ head, thrusting back into Cas’ awaiting mouth like he’s become a damn animal himself, a choked moan stuttering out from his body as he cums and his ass tightens around the hot wet muscle penetrating him deep.

Cas keeps up his efforts, not relenting for a second and Dean wearily works on getting Cas off too, wanting to return the favour at least. He doesn't expect a rush of hot pleasure to surge through his urethra when Cas flicks his tongue against his sensitive dick, pushing him just on the edge of too much, which is enough to have Dean lose control of his body, squirting all over Cas' tongue and body.

“Oh fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck!” Dean whines, legs and arms shaking to stay up.

He's not even forming words as Cas groans in delight and laps up the fluid, sucking on his cunt as it leaks into his mouth and gets his fur soaked. 

“D-Deannn! Close–” Cas warns, clearly not behind as he jerks his swelling knot off, impossibly turned on by his human mate's erotic display.

Dean might be seeing white but he still has enough sense in him to help out, licking and sucking on the head and massaging Cas' balls a little more roughly, lighting up with anticipation of Cas' messy orgasm in his mouth.

It's almost like a fountain when Cas finally does, ropes of hot thick cum rushing out and filling his mouth and throat in seconds, causing him to choke as he frantically attempts to swallow it all down. A lot of it spills out of his mouth and leaks down his throat and chest, sticking and marking his body from the inside and out. It's enough to make his eyes roll back from how hot it is, how good Cas' cum tastes and feels as it sits thick and salty on the palette of his tongue.

Dean milks the last drips of cum out of Cas, squeezing it out from the base of his knot, stroking all the way up his shaft and greedily licking it off of Cas' sensitive tip, smiling proudly as Cas shudders with pleasure, petting Dean's hair gently until he's being tugged by the arm. Dean goes willingly and laughs a bit as Cas cleans him off with his tongue, cleaning up his chest and neck before giving Dean another mind-blowing kiss, savouring the taste of himself on Dean's tongue. 

“Mmmm. D’you think I proved myself as your mate yet?” 

Cas pokes his cheek with his claw carefully, a roll of his eyes that tells him to stop asking stupid questions.

Dean laughs into the scruff of his neck, grin widening as he hears Cas' grumbling laughter for the first time. Happiness blooms in his body, the revelation that he can even feel anything other than grief and numbness anymore hits him like a wrecking ball. He hangs on tight, warmed to the bone.

Dean lets himself build careful hope when Cas hugs back even tighter, willing them to last, to fight for something new.

Several months later, Dean picked up contact with Bobby again.

He makes the call on a regular day, sitting on his porch while Cas is out for the day. The werewolf sort of just disappears until dusk, where he'll slip back into their cabin and hold Dean close, recharge on his scent. It used to bother Dean the first few times, wondering if Cas finally had enough, but now it's become kind of a domestic bliss for him. Getting on with their days and coming back together again to sleep in each other's arms.

Bobby is less aggrieved than Dean expects. A soft relief laced in his voice as they caught up. There's not much to say between two hermits that drink themselves to sleep– other than losing Sam, but they agree they need to share a drink together before touching that shitstorm.

So that's how it happens. Bobby turns up one day outside his cabin, shotgun pointed to shoot when Cas is the one home that day instead of Dean. 

It's an eventful first meeting for sure and everyone takes a day to cool off before they get anywhere. 

Dean and Bobby share whiskey that night on the porch, as they touch and poke around the subject of failing Sam. When they make breakfast in the morning together, they're suffering major headaches but it also feels like a calm has returned to them. Dean doesn't remember the last time he felt so light, watching Bobby and Cas grumble pleasantries as they eat gruffly.

It gets Dean thinking about family again, what it could look like now.

Losing Sam was the hardest thing he's ever had to do. And he thinks having to raise another kid might not be comparable, but it's still an all consuming terror. He's already failed once, to do it all over again and have that loss hanging over him makes him sick to his core. But he thinks about it anyway, the desire and fear sitting in his soul like a stone waiting to be moved. Cas never pushed him. Not once, not even with his instincts all on fire with desire every full moon.

Ironically, without Cas’ patience and refusal to push Dean into bearing a kid, he might never have been able to come to terms with it. To decide that he deserves to be a dad again, that good things do happen. He vowed to Cas, to himself, that their baby wouldn't be a replacement for Sam. Just new life, a person they'd help bring into the world and keep safe while they explore it. Free from hunting, from danger. They could make sure of that.

A mysterious individual named Rowena comes by their cabin at the personal recommendation of Bobby. Dean was heavily resistant when he was told a witch was gonna be his live-in midwife for the extended period, but Bobby assured that she'd been given incentive to keep Dean healthy through his pregnancy. What that incentive is, he never found out, but true to her word, she lived quietly with them as she monitored Dean. Even joining them for dinners and flirting harmlessly with him– and Cas too at times. 

She was there to soothe and reassure a panicked Dean at the revelation that he was having a litter of half-were kids. Consequences of shacking up with a werewolf, he reaped what he sowed, but Rowena promised that with her help he'd get through it safely. He didn't love the idea of magic being used to get him to pop out kids, but the look on Cas' face from that day onwards was one of pure unbridled excitement. In a way, it comforted Dean to know his mate wasn't worried. He did use to dream about having a big family after all, kids to keep his mind busy as he grows old. It could be a good thing. He could do this.

It's been years since Rowena helped him through it in the end, left their home after making sure they were all healthy and Dean and Cas were able to nurse them by themselves, never to be seen from again. She leaves all the kids birthday gifts though, and hasn't missed a year yet. Cas sniffs them out at the edge of their territory and brings them back. It's become a highlight for their kids so he doesn't mind it. Though half the time he's not sure what he's looking at.

A boy with golden brown hair stirs in his lap as Dean reflects, tucked into his chest as he snoozes. Blonde curls making a bird's nest from where he was tussling in the grass with his siblings this morning. Cas has taken the others hunting, training their instincts to be controlled and honed. And maybe to have a little fun too. 

They'll be back soon, and all in need of baths. Cas will probably join them all as usual, squeezed into the tub awkwardly as they work together to wrangle and scrub their kids clean.

“Ok Sammy, time to move.”

Dean kisses the top of his boy's head as his bleary blue eyes blink open and smile at his dad. Dean smiles back, closing the cabin door behind them, hoping his namesake is watching on fondly.