Hello everybody! Sorry that I haven't posted in a few days, but that was because I was working on this – drum roll please. Ta da!! Haha, this is just a quick short story I decided to write up … I wanted to get some experience before adding any intense parts to "A Struggle For Affection". Keep in mind that this is completely separate from that story of course, and this is just the first part of two. Enjoy!!
Dean laid his body on the soft mattress of the motel bed. After a long day's hunt it felt pleasing to relax – if only for a while. Sam had long since fallen asleep, reading on about other possible haunting in the surrounding area. And Dean, being the gracious big brother that he was, had pulled the bed sheets over Sammy and turned out the nearby light. This vaguely reminded Dean of when he and Sam were kids and John would go out on hunts, leaving them alone in crappy motel rooms such as this one for days on end.
Those were some of the best, yet worst, times that Dean could recall upon. For it during those anxious hours that Dean and Sam would not rest, but bond. Of course, Sammy did most of the bonding, but it was still pleasant for Dean to remember never the less. And as Dean sat in the hushed darkness, watching his pain in the ass little brother's chest inhale and exhale slowly, his thoughts drifted to a time when Sammy needed him most.
It was Christmas, if Dean remembered correctly – yes, it must've been right around the time of the holidays. John had been gone on a hunt for several days, leaving Dean in charge. It was on that evening particular Sammy had begged Dean to turn on the radio, even though he knew Dean would've preferred silence – two or three days into a hunt, Dean always preferred silence. But still, Sam had pleaded and Dean had reluctantly given in.
Jingle Bells had come on the air, but there was no Christmas joy to be felt on this night. Instead, Sam lay curled in a ball on his bed, crying. Crying that dad wasn't around, mom was nowhere to be found, and – most of all – that normality simply was not a part of their lives. And even though he wasn't a loud crier, Dean could still hear Sam's sniffles and so he knew. You would think, amidst all the chaos Dean felt inside himself, that he would find the strength to comfort Sammy like he always did. But instead, Dean chose this night to reveal the truth to Sam – the truth about what John really did for a living, the kind of creatures he hunted down and killed. He decided to share his pain with young Sammy – perhaps out of self-comfort, but still he had spilled his guts, if you will.
Sam had obviously not seen it that way, however. Yes, he cried, but later had thanked Dean for his honesty – for being the only one honest with him. He had wrapped his arms around Dean, swallowing handfuls of his shirt within his palms. And Dean just held Sam there, cradling him gently, close to tears himself.
And suddenly Dean was snapped back to reality – reality that tears were indeed streaming down his cheeks in this moment. "Oh, Sammy," Dean whimpered into the night. He allowed one more steaming tear to fall, before wiping them all away and straightening up. He cleared his throat, slowly rising to stretch his tired muscles.
With a rustle in the air, Dean could sense that another presence had just entered the room. "Hello, Dean," Castiel said, obviously unaware that Sam was attempting to sleep.
"Shhh," Dean hissed, "Sammy's trying to rest, you know." Castiel looked at him strangely for a moment. "Sam," Dean corrected himself sternly.
Castiel walked around the edge of the bed, coming closer to Dean's location. "Perhaps it would be best if we talked somewhere else then," he suggested. Before Dean even had a chance to voice his say, Castiel's fingers were upon his forehead and they were teleported across the universe to some unknown and reserved place.
They were now standing on a quaint wooden bridge, overlooking a large lake. Surrounding them stood breath taking shades of fiery orange and burnt yellows, dangling from the umber branches of trees just waiting to fall to the earth below. And the air in this place was just so refreshing, Dean inhaled deeply. For a moment, he'd almost forgotten that he was here with Castiel. He opened his eyes to find Castiel staring at him – not as if he was bewildered by any means, but charmed one could say.
Dean cleared his throat, before taking an awkward step away from the angel. "This is all fine and dandy Cas, but why are we here?"
"Right to business, I see," Castiel remarked, locking his hands behind his back in a soldier like manner, "I find this place settling. It allows me to be open with myself, you might say." His feet tapped slowly on the wood beneath them, as he took a few steps towards the end of the bridge.
"So angels are lying to themselves now, is that it?" Dean asked sarcastically.
Castiel smiled – openly freaking smiled – at Dean's statement. Oh, the joys of the mockery in which Dean Winchester possesses. "You would be surprised," Castiel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. He let out a long drawn sigh as he leaned against the railing of the bridge.
"So," Dean persisted coming a little closer, "enlighten me."
For a brief moment, their gazes locked, and Castiel could feel his heart skip a beat. But Dean quickly looked away, never being one to stare for long. Castiel longed to feel the burn of Dean's eyes on him though – perhaps it would bring comfort to him in whatever heartfelt confession he was about to make. "These – emotions, you may have noticed, are growing on me," Castiel said after a pause.
"Yeah, and?" Dean continued – he seemed almost anxious for what Castiel was prying at.
"And, I'm not sure how to act on these emotions," Castiel responded, looking Dean straight in the eye.
Dean blinked vigorously. Suddenly, his lips had become very dry so he moistened them with a flick of his tongue. "Well, uh," he hesitated, avoiding eye contact with the angel, "there are a lot of, um, emotions you know." He cleared he throat, and tugged slightly at the back of his neck.
"Dean," Castiel gasped nervously, placing a hand on his shoulder. The feeling of the fabric beneath Cas's fingers burned to the touch and Castiel was speechless as Dean turned to face him once again. He's so beautiful, Castiel thought, truly beautiful.
And before the angel even came to his senses about his actions, both of this hands were cupped tenderly on Dean's face – his tongue swiftly breaking Dean's lips apart as their mouths collided. Castiel felt his way along the inside of Dean's mouth as quickly as possible, fearing that this moment – this glorious moment – would not last. Tooth by tooth, Castiel memorized every line and every curve. And he savored every bit of taste he absorbed – an interesting combination of alcohol and toothpaste. But this only made Castiel take pleasure in it even more, longing for it to last.
Gently, Dean pulled himself away from Castiel, staring in disbelief. Where in the hell did he learn to kiss? Dean thought astonished. Castiel felt his heart sinking at the nearly terrified look in Dean's eyes – but his fears quickly subsided, as Dean firmly wrapped his arms around Castiel's back tugging him closer than ever before.
Dean was definitely the more aggressive one, needing to be in control. Castiel determined this quite easily as Dean shoved him over the hand railing of the bridge, nearly knocking Castiel over the edge. Cas removed his hands from the back on Dean's neck, which was now sweating quite a bit, and placed them onto the banister for support. He let his eyelids flutter closed, just enjoying all the tingling sensations that were coursing through his body in this moment.
Dean loved the way his tongue felt in Castiel's mouth – both the warmth and moister colliding – oh, it was like magic. Magic, Dean repeated to himself again. He mildly fought away Castiel's tongue as he separated, tugging slightly on his bottom lip. The moment their mouths were disconnected, Dean's body went into a minor shock state – his whole essence burned for Castiel. Although, Dean had bigger plans for the obviously inexperienced angel.
Castiel swallowed deeply at the departure of Dean's lips from his own. A shiver ran through him though as Dean tenderly slid one of his legs in between Cas's. And Castiel could feel something building inside his chest – similar to that of a cough, but not quite. With one swift movement, Castiel jerked his head back as Dean began to run his lips down Cas's neck. Castiel's eyes widened, a low moan rising from his throat.
The hair on the back of Dean's neck arose, at the sound of Castiel's voice in such a pleased tone. The gritty feeling of Castiel's stubble against Dean's lips felt strangely satisfying, but it did not stop Dean from working some of his further magic. Placidly, Dean's hands pulled on Cas's flimsy cobalt tie, revealing more of the white buttoned shirt that lay beneath. Almost like that of a second nature, Dean's fingers popped open the first few top buttons. Dean's tongue rapidly skimmed over the newly exposed skin, leaving trails of shimmering saliva behind in its wake.
"Ah, Dean," Castiel panted. He lifted one of his hands to Dean's scalp, tugging playfully at his short hair. Dean moved about past Castiel's jugular, feeling a rushing pulse causing the skin to pump vigorously.
Quickly, he fulfilled the urge to rejoin their lips. This time they were not completely connected, but instead gave each other multiple slobbery pecks. Dean lowered one of his hands sneakily, gently feeling over the trench coat material surrounding Castiel's pocket. He grazed over that rather hurriedly, now feeling Cas's pant fabric beneath his fingertips.
As Dean ran his hand smoothly up Castiel's pant leg, Cas's breath increased now becoming short and wispy huffs. Dean's eyes amplified in alarm, and he nearly jumped back at what was just revealed to him. Tenderly, Dean's fingers ran over Cas's inner thigh, exposing that Castiel was about as hard as Dean was – if not firmer.
Suddenly it all became clear to Dean where this situation was headed (not like it wasn't obvious to him before, but we're not going to go there). He was here – wherever here is – making out with Castiel, getting extremely turned on by the irony of it all. And it occurred to him in this moment that this just wasn't going to work – this position simply wasn't going to work. Of course, Castiel had to have picked the worse possible place on this planet to make his feelings known. Damn it, Dean thought scoping the area for a bed he prayed would just pop out of nowhere.
However, there wasn't going to be any bed, so Dean would simply have to make do with what he had available. What the hell do I have? He thought hastily, his eyes scanning over the nearby area. A pavilion – it wouldn't have been Dean's first choice, but then again this probably wouldn't have been his first choice either.
Abruptly he yanked himself from Castiel, leaving Cas's expression in bewilderment. Under any other such circumstances Dean would have busted out in raging laughter, but now obviously wasn't the best time – what with this bulge growing in pants and all. Speedily Dean lead Castiel like a dog by his partially undone tie.
Fairly soon they were standing beneath the pavilion next to one of many picnic tables. Castiel seemed to have almost regained his usual self, his expression blank. Dean was quite the opposite, now a truly exhilarated man. But he knew that he would have to have some self-restraint, for this was Castiel's first time and it should be memorable – at least since it couldn't be particularly special, or classy in this instance. Hell, Dean must've deflowered several virgins in his time, but as he lifted his hands to remove Castiel's trench coat he could not hide their trembling.
Carelessly, they both allowed the tan coat to fall onto the cement ground beneath them. Swiftly, Dean lowered his hands ready to take off Castiel's tie, but Cas's hands caught him in the act. He grabbed a hold of them tenderly, holding him in his own for a moment. Then, he gracefully lifted them to his face, kissing each one of them. Dean closed his eyes and breathed deeply, allowing Castiel's fingers to glide over his torso fidgeting with his shirt. Never the less though, Dean offered Castiel some assistance in this difficult task, not to mention the rest of their clothing articles.
In no time at all, they'd both been stripped down to their bare chests and pants – no hectic coats, no nothing to get in their way. Castiel surprisingly, was the one to make the first move. He softly ran his fingers over Dean's clavicle, before leaning in to kiss him tenderly. The heat being produced from them in this moment was almost unbearable, and Castiel thought for certain that he would faint – if not for the support of Dean's hands firmly placed on either side of his hips.
Dean grasped Cas's waist rather forcefully, lifting him slightly off the ground which proved to be surprisingly light weight and effortless. Castiel sat on the edge of a picnic table now his legs spread widely, Dean fitting there like a piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Dean rubbed his hands over Castiel's shoulders, gently lowering his upper body to rest of the refreshingly cold wood of the table. Castiel gasped loudly as Dean's lips glided over his pectorals and other abs. He felt a grin flicker across Dean's lips as he made light bite marks all about Castiel. Cas ran his hands down either side of the table, grasping at anything and everything there was to be held. His hands needed to busy, very busy indeed.
Dean soon provided the opportunity to fulfill Castiel's wishes, leaning in to kiss him. This provided just enough space between them for Castiel to slip his hands amid their naked chests and down to Dean's belt buckle. Rather nervously his hands pulled it from the clasp, slipping the leather out of its attached position.
And suddenly Dean paused for a moment – with this, Castiel paused with him. Dean just stared into his eyes and smiled. Gently he placed his hand on Castiel's cheek, before kissing him tenderly. Following this, he stood up straight and yanked his belt from his waist. He discarded it rather imprudently, almost as if it were a show for Castiel who just sat back and watched. Castiel smiled eagerly as Dean began to slip off his pants – first revealing boxers, but then gradually showing some skin.
With what felt like an eternity, Dean's hands then moved on to Castiel's pants. His fingers playfully circled the button a few times, before popping it open and beginning to pull down the zipper. The second Castiel's fly was pulled down far enough, a fairly stiff entity emerged forcefully outward. Castiel gasped at this, and Dean seconded the notion. "Wh- wh–," Castiel stuttered, not entirely able to get the words out that he wished to speak.
Dean outwardly laughed at the angel's expression. Castiel's eyes flashed at him with brief anger and the utmost uncertainty. "It's okay," Dean managed. Finally he was able to regain himself, and he casually cleared his throat. "Don't worry," he whispered leaning in towards Castiel, "it's a good thing." With that, he delivered an assuring peck to Castiel's lips, before venturing downward. "A very good thing," Dean muttered, rubbing his hands over Castiel's pelvic region.
Castiel felt his breath quicken, Dean's hands like ash to the touch. He'd never felt this many sentiments compiled inside himself before – never in his two thousand year experience. And so he was surprised when he could feeling Dean's fingers trembling as he grasped the edge's of Castiel's underwear.
Ordinarily, the panties were never a problem when it came to Dean. But these weren't entirely ordinary circumstances here. And so Dean paused for a moment, just staring at all that lay beneath him. Finally, he curved his fingertips around the elastic of Castiel's boxers and slowly pulled downward. Dean coughed and nearly gagged once Castiel was fully revealed to him. It wasn't that there was anything particularly disgusting about Cas's nether region, other than the fact that it was his nether region. And even though Dean was quite a DJ himself, there was still a bit of stereo equipment that he just wasn't used to dealing with – quite a few more knobs and levers, if you get the gist of it. So, out of politeness more than anything, Dean had to turn away from the angel. He covered his mouth, desperately trying to conceal the strange noises leaving his mouth.
"What's the matter?" Castiel panted, obviously nowhere near as appalled by the situation as Dean was.
"Nothing, I–," Dean inhaled and exhaled deeply, "I just need a minute here."
Castiel sat up from the table. "If this is uncomfortable for you, we can simply return to the motel room," Castiel soothed.
We can simply return to the motel room, Dean repeated in his mind. It sounded terribly cheap to him – almost as if Castiel expected him to back down. But this only made Dean want to get on with – well, whatever they were going to get on with. He turned to face Castiel once more, filled with confidence this time around. "No," Dean replied firmly, gripping Cas tightly and giving him a moist kiss, "let's do this."
Castiel held onto Dean's face as their forehead pressed against one another. He sighed as a pleasant grin came over his face. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment," he whispered.
Chills flew down Dean's spine, as they were connected once again. This time the kissing was more of a blur as they both fought to release each other's true purity. Pure nakedness, pure longing, pure lust.