Title: Physical InventoryAuthor: Nicole_sillPairings: Dean/ BAMF!Castiel, brief Sam.Rating: NC-17Word Count: 1483Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters. I just let them out of their cages to sit on the good couch.Spoilers: Early Season 4, but nothing specific. Basically Cas is still Castiel.Summary: Dean finally gets some quality alone time with the body Castiel regenerated for him.
Warnings: masturbation, fantasy with implied slashiness.
It was in good shape for a cheap motel bathroom. There was the same beige shower curtain that hung in motel bathrooms everywhere. Only one broken tile that Dean Winchester could see and no hair still in the shower drain. The towels on the rack looks clean and only slightly worn. He even spied a new bar of soap in the stall as he locked the bathroom door. The room could have been covered in ectoplasm and goat blood, and Dean still would have started to get naked. He and Sammy had been on the road for five days without a shower or any privacy. Since Sam was at the local library researching the cute librarian they'd met earlier, Dean had enough privacy a shower and the long overdue jerk off he needed. So his grand plan for the night was SPP: shower, pie and porn.
Dean put his shave kit by the sink and started to strip. He just threw his clothes into a pile behind the door. When he got down to his tighty whities, he stopped with his hands already grabbing at the waist band.
"Come on, Dean," he whispered to himself, "Its just like ripping off a band aid."
Dean slid off his underwear in one quick pull and winched when he saw himself dangling.
The stupid angel that had "raised him from Perdition" had erased all the scars from his rotting corpse except one. So he had no proof he'd been chewed by Hell Hounds. There were no more knife wounds, bullet holes, burns, or claw marks. Hell, he was pretty sure his tonsils had grown back and he was a virgin again. All that shit he could live with. It was just superficial details. But his dick now looked like it was wearing a turtle neck. That douche bag, gravel voiced son of a bitch had taken the time to sew his foreskin back on, but left a big fucking hand shaped burn on his shoulder. It sucked. Not only did he hardly recognize himself naked, but the chicks didn't dig the cock sweater.
Dean sighed, then reached out to hold the his special little buddy. "Its okay," he said, "Daddy still loves you."
A few slow strokes proved at least his dick still worked. A couple stored mental images of Jenna Jameson from the late 90's had him stiffening in his fist. Things felt different. That new foreskin rubbing up and over the sensitive head was nice. This maybe the twentieth or so time he'd jerked off since returning topside, but it was the first occasion he had to do it right. One hand kept up the languid strokes as he reached in and turned on the shower with the other. By the time the small bathroom was hot and steamy, Dean's cock stuck out tall and proud. The reddened tip was wet with precum and showing over the extra skin. With a firm grip, Dean pulled down the foreskin, exposing his head to the steamy room. The sensation sent shivers down his spine, bowing his back. Carefully rolling the skin over the delicate tip, Dean ducked behind the beige curtain and into the hot shower.
The hot water pinked his skin in an instant. Dean spent a moment just letting it run down his sore muscles. He reached behind and massaged his butt. Old blue eyes might have brought him back from Hell, but he hadn't made it so he could drive for a week without his ass hurting.
"Bet his feathery ass never gets sore," he muttered. His mind started to wander down a new path, leaving Jenna legs spread to turn and see the angel's butt marked with a red handprint of his own.
Dean unwrapped the soap and worked up a good lather on his hands, his ass, and his junk. Now that he was nice and slippery all over, he could being to masturbate for real. One hand closed around his shaft while the other cupped his balls. The difference between his up and down strokes was mind blowing. His newly covered cock head was so much more sensitive. Maybe that angel dick was on to something after all.
An image of Castiel's actual angel dick sprang to life in Dean's mind. The devout man Castiel was possessing was hot and totally Dean's type, but there was something else. The Master of the meat puppet shone through. The firm set of Castiel's narrow shoulders carried more power than they should. Castiel held himself like a bad ass warrior, but he dressed like a nerd. Those two things together rubbed Dean right. It made Castiel, Angel of the Lord, look like he might not smite a guy for looking.
The rest of Castiel kept Dean up at night. Dean was fixated on Castiel's pillowy lips. Dean stared at them as Castiel frequently chewed him out for some transgression against God. What would Castiel's lips feel like on his newly reformed cock? What would it take to clear that gravel from Cas's throat?
Dean's brain spiraled out of control as he bucked frantically into his hand. All he could see was Castiel's lips wrapped around him. Dean threading his fingers through that manic hair. Castiel groaning underneath him as he plowed into that heavenly ass and made Castiel say his name over and over. Dean would make Cas his cock slut as he came all over his face and into that messy hair. Then he'd do it all over again, but with Castiel riding him on top, so he could jerk off Castiel as he pounded his ass in long strokes. The thought of Castiel on top, whimpering in pleasure, was the one that sent him over the edge.
Dean felt his balls seize and boil over. The orgasm hit him hard and sent him slamming into the shower wall, right onto the burn scar on his shoulder The shock was electric. Pleasure and pain melded together. With a cry of "Oh God, Cas!" he came violently all over the shower wall.
He came so hard it left his ears ringing. Dean didn't hear the brush of wings that heralds an angel's decent.
"Dean?"
Dean felt his balls drop. What was Castiel doing here, now?
"That is what I am trying to ascertain." the angel answered from the other side of the curtain. "why have you summoned me in such a manner?"
"Huh," Dean stuck his head around the side of the curtain. Castiel stood staring up at Dean with an intense scowl on his face. Grey smoke wafted off of the angel's body smelling slightly of myrrh and sandalwood.
"Dean Winchester, why have you summoned me in such a manner?"
"I didn't summon you." Dean pauses, "Wait, you mean summon as in like a spell?"
"You have invoked me by the power of my name. With our connection that would be enough to call me forth. However you intense concentration of my vessel's.." Cas considered his next words carefully. "Physical attributes and the release of your essence have invoked me from Heaven against my will."
"'The releasing of my essence?' Who talks like that?"
"Fine, jerking off if you prefer something more vulgar. It is still not acceptable. I can not control the thoughts that run through your errant ape mind, but if you ever summon me again in such a fashion…"
"What, you'll send me back to hell?" snaked Dean. "I bet your bosses would love that."
"Do not mock me, Dean Winchester," Cas looked over at the towel rack. Without so much as a blink, the towels were sent to Heaven in a fiery blaze of wrath. "I can send you back. I would be more than able to deal with my superiors."
"You douche!"
Cas tilted his head like a dog listening to a sound. "Samuel has just returned. Please give him my regards."
With that, Castiel disappeared along with the shower curtain. Not more than a second later Sam opened the now unlocked bathroom door to see Dean in all his reconstructed glory.
Dean's hands bolted down to cover little Dean. "Sammy, I can explain."
"No, please don't." Sam starts to close the door, but turns around to ask, "Actually, I have two questions. Why does it smell like a burning Laundromat in here, and why is your dick wearing a turtle neck?"
"Because, Sam," said Dean as he stepped out of the shower, "Angels are dicks. Cas say 'hi' by the way."