A/N – Just a one-shot, because we all know 'something' happened between these two before The End (5.04). This is set sometime before Dean and Castiel made their home at Camp Chitaqua. The rules of the game have changed, and all they have is each other. Sounds sweet, but be warned, here there be porn.

Dean only faltered a little when he walked into his motel room to find a half naked man watching TV and smoking a joint on his bed. 'So, I'm guessing the whole 'Just Say No' campaign passed you all by in Heaven, huh, Cas?' he asked, making a dismissive motion with his hand, his question posed casually, as if the man in front of him had been fully dressed and reading a book, or doing something equally innocuous.

'I don't understand that reference, Dean,' Castiel looked contemplatively at the joint he held between thumb and forefinger. Castiel looked back up at Dean, 'I didn't think you would mind me smoking in your room…' Castiel trailed off as he and Dean locked gazes. Since the widespread outbreak of the Croatoan virus, Dean and Castiel had stuck close to each other. For the moment, they were occupying adjoining rooms in an abandoned motel. They still had electricity and running water, and Dean was pleasantly surprised to find that they could still tune into the Food Network and Casa Erotica. Neither Dean nor Cas could explain how this was possible, but Dean wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. And now, apparently, Cas had become an acquaintance of Mary Jane.

Dean shook his head in confusion, 'Where the hell did you even…' he trailed off, 'no, forget it, I don't wanna know. Answer me one thing though, did you have to trade your shirt for the weed?'

Castiel tilted his head a little and sent a stream of smoke out the side of his mouth, eyeing Dean almost defiantly. He was sat cross-legged on the bed now, black trousers sitting low on his hips, his lean, muscular torso resting back on the pillows. This pose afforded Dean a very nice view. For a moment he let his eyes travel over Castiel. Cas' short, dark hair was slightly tousled, and dark blue eyes followed Dean's progress amusedly. At the end of his perusal, Dean let his eyes rest briefly on the dark 'V' at Cas' lap. A shadowed curve hinted at what was beneath and Dean felt that he was giving himself away with the way he raised an eyebrow at this sight. 'Crap!' Dean thought to himself.

'I wanted to feel my skin,' Cas ran a hand up and down his stomach, quizzically, 'it feels…soft.' Castiel's voice was made rougher by the smoke he was inhaling. Dean would have laughed at the stoner behaviour if it weren't turning him on so damn much.

'Well, I see you've made yourself at home,' Dean said in what he hoped was a cool voice, 'carry on.' Dean inclined his head stiffly and walked off to wash in the bathroom.

'Carry on! What the hell was that?' Dean berated himself softly as he threw his grimy shirt on the tiled floor and rummaged through a pile of clean clothes sitting haphazardly on a low shelf. For a fleeting second, Dean imagined Castiel stretched out, all golden and lazy, on the motel bed's silky red comforter. Dean tried to close his mind to the image but it persisted and he let himself remember those few seconds he had spent wandering Cas' firm body with his eyes, the longing he had felt to run his hands, his lips and tongue over Cas' smooth warm skin. Dean's prick throbbed between his legs like a beacon; it had been too long since he'd been with anyone. When Dean was in a mood like this, a shirtless and stoned Cas was dangerous, or at least in danger.

Dean decided to follow Castiel's lead and slipped into comfy black sleeping pants that just rested at his hips. His nipples, no longer shielded by the fabric of a t-shirt, hardened in the cool of the evening. Dean ran a hand through his hair and wisps of it fell on to his forehead. Dean knew this look worked on just about any poor soul he set his sights on. Dean went for casual, but sexy. He wanted Castiel to get hard in his presence and Dean wanted to fuck him. After all, it was his room.

Dean reached for his hip flask and whiled away five minutes sipping at the cheap whisky. Just a touch of Dutch courage, to begin with. Dean took a deep breath and flexed his neck like a boxer stepping into the ring. Dean walked out of the bathroom and made his way to the bed. Castiel was humming softly to himself as he watched Jamie Oliver sauté onions and peppers, the sound low and gruff, the cadence like a prayer.

Dean plonked himself down on the bed next to Cas, nudging him over to make space. Dean barely looked at Cas, but he noticed the joint end smouldered in an ashtray sitting on the small, bedside table. Dean reached for the dying end. Without asking, Dean took a draw on the joint, bringing the burning end to the tips of his fingers. Castiel said nothing but turned his head to look directly at Dean.

Castiel's gaze dropped to Dean's chest, which began to fall and rise a little more noticeably now. Dean tried not to react; he picked up the remote and switched the television to what appeared to be a German film with English subtitles. Bad move. The two people onscreen, who had been conversing innocently enough when Dean had switched channels, were now ripping each other's clothes off, and suddenly, close-ups of bare chests and arses were all over the television. Dean forced himself not to hit the button on the remote straight away. He waited a moment and then flicked to the previous channel. Jamie Oliver was still showing viewers how they too could make pukka tucker right in the comfort of their own kitchens.

'Do you mind changing the TV back to the last channel?' came a sultry voice from Dean's left. Dean turned his head; Castiel was looking straight into Dean's eyes, his own heavily lidded, but sharp. Cas was looking at Dean as though he couldn't decide which part of him to start licking first. Dean held his breath for a moment and then he smiled. Without saying a word, Dean turned his face back toward the screen and pressed the channel down button on the remote control. The German couple were still going at it. The woman was kneeling on the bed while her partner held her breasts, suckling on each nipple in turn. The woman groaned softly and ran her fingers through the man's hair, gripping his scalp and keeping his head at her breast. Dean's own nipples were hard and his cock felt heavy, the light touch of his pyjama trousers caressed him with every breath.

Dean could feel his cock getting wet at the head, and the sensation sent a shiver through his entire body. Castiel glanced over at him. Dean stared straight at the screen, biting the inside of his lip and willing himself not to turn and straddle Castiel's lean hips. The couple on screen were moving together now, their breathing heavy, punctuated with gasps every time the man thrust himself deeply inside the woman's cunt. Dean's toes curled and his skin tingled. He felt Castiel move beside him. Castiel kneeled on the bed, next to Dean and leaned in. Castiel dropped a soft kiss on Dean's nape. Dean inclined his head, exposing more of his neck and shoulder to Cas, so Cas kissed there, just pillow-soft touches.

Dean longed to pull Cas' mouth to his nipples but he forced himself to stay still and enjoy the attention. Castiel moved around to place one knee either side of Dean's legs. Castiel raised himself up and took Dean's mouth, sucking softly at his tongue.

"Mmm," Cas breathed, "you taste so…fine." Castiel brought his hands up to gently cup Dean's jaw, savouring Dean's mouth. Dean let himself revel in the moment. He knew Castiel had fallen for him, and he often caught the former angel, looking at him. As though Cas wanted to touch, but was resigned to rejection. Dean would never admit to anyone how dirty it made him feel to lead Cas on, just a little. To let Castiel believe that Dean could not, would not, feel the same way. In a world where he had lost all control, Dean held on to this and he knew Cas would never begrudge him.

But Dean had had enough of waiting by now. He gently pushed Cas back and rolled them both, so that Cas was lying beneath him. They had both blocked out the noise from the television, all that mattered was the shrinking space between and around them.

Dean braced himself just above Castiel's warm, sinuous body, a hand either side of Cas' head. Always ready with a quip or a comeback, Dean couldn't think of a single thing to say, so he just kissed Castiel, sealing their lips and trying to tell Cas, without words, just how much he needed him.

Cas' mouth tasted a little like the bitterness of weed and a lot like salt and ozone and life, and Dean clung to that for a second, squeezing his eyes shut so that he could focus on the man beneath him and ignore everything else that threatened them.

Since losing Sam, and the battle against the Croatoan virus, Dean had been forced to look at the world in a very different way. Dean had never been a man of faith, but he always hunted with a modicum of hope that he was making a difference. Now he knew that hope wasn't worth a goddamn and the only thing that came close to mattering, at this point in his life, was the man moving beneath him.

So he gave Cas his full attention.

Dean's mouth made ragged movements down the side of Castiel's neck. Dean sucked at the sensitive joint between neck and shoulder, drawing blood to the surface of the skin, in the knowledge that it would leave a hell of a mark.

Excited now, Dean shifted down the length of Cas' body and fastened on to Cas' nipple. The little bud was rock hard and Dean sucked and scraped his teeth on it. Cas groaned and ran his fingers restlessly through Dean's hair. Dean lavished the same attention on Cas' other nipple. He worked the tight furls until Cas was writhing and stretching a hand down to his own cock.

Dean stopped Cas' hand with his own. 'I'm getting there, baby, I'm getting there.'

Cas' stare was heavy with lust, and, if he was frustrated, he didn't show it. He merely traced Dean's lips with a lazy finger, smiling when Dean sucked it into his mouth, wetting it generously with saliva. Cas lifted the glistening finger to his own nipples, circling one and then the other, twitching as the wetness cooled and dried.

Dean, overcome, rested his forehead on Castiel's sternum, breathing heavily. Cas dropped a hand and stroked the back of Dean's neck. Dean pressed an almost reverential kiss to Cas' chest, before sliding his hands down to Cas' hips, unfastening the trousers and drawing them down Cas' legs. Cas had not bothered with underwear and Dean's hot breath skated over the head of his straining cock. Cas' moans urged Dean on, and Dean took the head of Cas' prick into his mouth, sucking on it like a gobstopper, tongue curving and rolling around it. Dean pushed down further, taking Castiel to the back of his throat before pulling back up and fisting the base of Cas' cock and making out with the head again.

Cas' was muttering his name, 'Dean, Dean…oh, Dean, oh please.' He was lost, but before he could come, Dean pulled off and reached for a bottle of lotion he'd left on the bedside table. Bereft, Castiel's hand started moving towards his own cock again, but Dean gently stopped him.

'I really want to be inside you when you come, Cas. Please, baby,' Dean knew he would probably feel stupid about this later, but all he wanted to do now was soothe Castiel with affection and make this feel as close to lovemaking as he could. He didn't know why that was important, just that it was.

At Dean's urging, Cas moved his hands up instead, resting them against the headboard, exposing his body to Dean in a gesture of utter trust. If Dean hadn't been shaking with lust, he might have smiled at the action.

Dean eased Cas' legs apart and slicked up his own fingers with the lotion. Dean circled Cas' entrance with an index finger, moistening the skin and massaging the ring of muscle, relaxing it. Dean's finger slid inside after a moment and Cas' cock twitched against his belly. Dean placed his other hand on Cas' waist and caressed the jut of Cas' hipbone with his thumb. Cas relaxed enough to allow a second finger, then a third.

Dean scissored his fingers gently and Cas' breath came out in a shaky gust, 'Dean, inside me, now.'

Dean worked his fingers out of Cas' arse and lubricated his cock with more of the lotion. He lined up with Cas' entrance and slid in, inch by inch, until Cas had taken the length of him and was shuddering beneath his hands.

The desire to lean in and kiss Cas was overwhelming but Dean knew that he wouldn't last long, now that he was sheathed in tight, wet heat, so he just started moving. Cas was coming apart before his eyes and that was enough to push Dean to the edge of climax. Dean thrust in and out of Cas gently, but firmly. Cas would feel this for days to come.

Cas gave a sharp cry before he came, spilling his seed all over his own stomach. Dean gritted his teeth as Cas drew in deep breaths, his passage clenching around Dean's cock. With a hoarse shout, Dean came. He could feel his cum leaking out of Castiel and on to the bed, he had blown a heavy load and the sudden slickness was almost too much to bear.

As he gently pulled out of Castiel, all Dean wanted was to fuck him all over again. He felt good, but not sated, as though sex with Cas was, ironically, a gateway drug to something even more addictive. Namely, more sex with Cas. And Dean felt a bloom of heat as he imagined Castiel fucking him next time.

Cas, exhausted, had already fallen asleep, and Dean lay down next to him, ignoring the wet spots on the sheets. Cas threw an arm out, unconsciously drawing Dean closer. Dean fought to ignore the tiniest spark of giddiness that flared up. He was happy now, but he couldn't stay like this, soft and vulnerable. He knew that if he and Cas had any chance of getting through this, alive and together, he would have to harden up. Arm himself and start thinking a little more strategically, a little more like Sammy would have done, in order to protect Castiel. Come what may, Dean and Castiel would see it through, together.