Title: Well I Got It Half Right
Author: HigherMagic
Rating: NC-17
Pairings/Characters: Dean/Castiel, Adam/Castiel, Sam/Castiel, Dean/Castiel/John
Spoilers: None it's AU.
Warnings: bottom!Cas, threesome, no real incest aside from sharin' an Angel.
Word Count: ~13k
Summary: Dean was so excited when his family had been deemed in need of a guardian Angel – the things were so cool and he couldn't want to share space with one; he'd even made all the necessary preparations, getting clothes and building a nest for their new companion. What he hadn't factored into the equation was their Heats.
Notes: Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own. Someone wishing to remain anonymous wanted Castiel/Winchesters ending in John/Cas/Dean and, well, I hope this is what you had in mind! Bottom!Castiel is so hard to write sometimes omg. ALSO I AM SORRY I KIND OF SKIMMED ADAM AND SAM BECAUSE IT'S VERY DIFFICULT FOR ME TO WRITE THOSE PAIRINGS OKAY. Enjoy!
Dean would never forget the day they received their notification letter in the mail, telling the Winchester family that they had been approved and deemed sufficiently in need of a guardian Angel to watch over them. He'd been so excited that he had immediately shown it to Sam and Adam, who, while not seeming to share quite the same level of enthusiasm, were also really incredibly excited.
Dean had always watched the Angels when he'd drive Sam and Adam to school, or watching silently while their charges played at football practice, or in the park where Adam had his 'Tough Guy' training every Thursday. They seemed so cool – stoic, always there, always watchful, their wings so many different colors and Dean wanted to learn them all. They were just so awesome looking and Dean had always wanted to see one, touch one, wonder what they behaved like, what drove them to being assigned to people and why.
It was one of the reasons he had switched his major from engineering to Angel physiology and behavioral studies. Angels were just so cool.
He'd been rereading and learning everything and anything he could in preparation for the new Angel – they didn't need to sleep, but they did like having their own space, and that included a nest made preferably of some of each items of clothing from each family member they would need to protect. Dean had been working on converting their as-of-yet unused spare bedroom into a nest when the doorbell ran on a Saturday afternoon, ringing through the house.
Dad had taken Sam and Adam out to a football game, so Dean was the only one in the house. He rushed downstairs in an attempt to answer the door quickly before the person left.
He opened the door to see an older woman, mid-to-late forties, dressed in a suit and holding a clipboard, smiling wide. Standing next to her was…was an Angel.
"Woah," Dean said, eyes widening when he looked at it. Or, rather, he, because that was definitely a male Angel.
"Are you John Winchester?" the woman asked, frowning a little at the details written on her clipboard.
"Um, no," Dean replied, "I'm his son. He's out. Is this…" He paused, trying to remember the name that had been given to the Angel on the letter they had received last week. "Is this Castiel?"
The woman's smile returned. "Yes he is! I'll have you sign here…" She handed Dean the clipboard and he signed on the dotted line and she snapped it back. "There you go! Enjoy your Angel, Mister Winchester."
She was turning around and walking back down the driveway before Dean could respond, leaving Dean and Castiel standing on the front porch, and Dean turned his attention to the Angel. Castiel wasn't looking at him, though, blinking his wide eyes around the house, lips pressed together as though he was thinking very hard about something.
He was smaller than Dean, but not by much, and was dressed in loose-fitting scrubs that suggested more comfort than any actual necessity, since Dean remembered reading that Angels could easily keep themselves warm – actually ran hotter than humans – and clothes were just because humans wore clothes. He had dark hair – Dean would say it was black, but the sun was hinting at a lighter color, more like dark brown – and his eyes were blue enough to almost be grey. His wings were large, arching up over his head and down to almost touch the floor with the very tips, and Dean wondered if Castiel had one or two sets of oil glands – what kind of Angel he was. If he was a submissive one Dean would have to worry about Heats and touching and imprinting, but a dominant had a whole new set of things to deal with too.
The feathers were a mottled mess of black and deep, deep royal blue with flashes of almost blonde streaks – color so blond to almost be white mixed in with the darkness.
"…Castiel?" Dean hazarded, making the Angel cock his head to one side, turning to look back at Dean, and a small smile came to his lips. Dean, on instinct, smiled back, relaxing slightly. This was so cool, Sam and Adam and Dad were going to die.
"Hello, Dean," Castiel replied, voice low and measured and it just made Dean smile more. He could feel himself practically shaking in excitement. "May I come in?"
"Oh, yeah, 'course," Dean replied, stepping back and flushing in embarrassment as he allowed the Angel to enter, closing the door behind him. He remembered, then, that Angels needed permission to cross a threshold, to enter into anyone's house for the first time, and mentally kicked himself for not inviting the Angel in immediately. "Are you hungry? Can I get you anything? We already have a room set up for you and stuff so…"
He trailed off, flushing again when the Angel turned surprised eyes on him. "You…have a room for me?" he asked, wings fanning the air gently in what Dean had to assume, from the arch and the way his lower feathers curled in, was surprise and affection.
"Of course we do," Dean replied with a small huff, rolling his eyes. "Angels need their own space. C'mon, I've been working on it myself."
He turned, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the top floor, Castiel following behind more slowly – Dean watched as the Angel dragged his hand up the banister, wings falling to run along the floor, his eyes taking in everything. He was spreading his scent, Dean realized once Castiel had reached the top, shaking his wings out. His feathers were shining like they had water coating them – wing oil, Dean supposed – and small, almost imperceptible drops were falling where he stepped, evaporating almost immediately but still large enough that Dean, because he was looking, noticed them.
"Cas," he said, drawing the Angel's attention, "are you a submissive or dominant Angel?"
Castiel blinked at him, cocking his head to one side, brows furrowing. "Why do you ask me that?"
Dean was starting to think this red hue on his face was going to be permanent. "Um…well…" He paused, swallowing loudly. "Well, if you're one I mean I can tell dad we'll need to worry about suppressants and the letter wasn't really specific and if you're a dominant one I know you need different oils as well and you know grooming and stuff and…"
He stopped himself, realizing he was rambling, but it was worth it, because the Angel was smiling at him, looking genuinely surprised and flattered that Dean had thought that much about him. "I'm a submissive Angel," Castiel replied smoothly, making Dean nod. "You know a lot about Angels, Dean."
Dean nodded, continuing to lead the way up to the attic to Castiel's room. "I want to study them when I go to college. I think Angels – you guys – are just really cool, and I want to be able to tell other people about how cool you are. Angels shouldn't just be hangin' around lookin' after us – they should be living their own lives too with health care and schools and just whatever else."
They were silent as he opened the door leading to the small set of stairs where their attic was. The steps curved around so the room stretched back out above the hallway, and it was long and thin with sloping roofs that bared the beams supporting the roof. It was just tall enough in the center for Dean to stand, and at the far end was the massive pile of clothes and pillows that Dean had amassed – his old hoodie and sweats from when he used to be on the Track team, Adam's clothes from when he was smaller and Dean had finally managed to convince him that the Yu-Gi-Oh! shirt had to go – as well as his father's old school shirts as well which had been handed down to both Dean and Sam, so smelled like a mesh of the three of them.
Castiel sucked in a breath when he saw it, eyes wide. "Is this okay?" Dean asked, shifting his weight. One of the slanting parts of the roof had been removed for a skylight to be put in, large enough that Castiel could jump outside if he wanted to, and faced the sun in the afternoon so he could watch the sunset. The walls were plastered and painted a neutral cream color, and the floor was wood but littered with pillows and old stuffed animals as well.
"Dean…" Castiel sounded awestruck, stepping forward and instinctively spreading his wings out to trail along the walls, darkening the walls just slightly with brushes of his oil. "Dean, this is…this is perfect, thank you." He turned around to look at the human, smiling wide. "This is more than I expected."
"Well, I wanted you to feel welcome," Dean said with a shrug of his shoulder, and then they both tilted their heads, hearing the front door open and slam shut. "Oh, they're home," Dean said, smiling wide and reaching forward to take Castiel's hand. "Come on, come meet everyone."
Castiel's fingers curled around Dean's hand and Dean led the way back downstairs, smiling like a kid on Christmas day when he spied his father and brothers disrobing themselves of coats and boots as they had come inside. "Dad, Adam, Sam, look who's here!"
They all three looked up at once, and Dean could feel one of Castiel's wings brushing against him, dry and soft and warm, and the Angel took a small step back, his fingers tightening around Dean's wrist.
"This must be Castiel," John said, the first to speak, and he smiled warmly, in a way that reminded Castiel of Dean, which helped the Angel to relax somewhat. John stepped forward at the same time Dean led Castiel down the stairs, and John reached forward to take and shake Castiel's hand. "Welcome to the family."
Castiel mostly shadowed Dean, Sam and Adam during the day while the boys were at school and their various extracurriculars. John went to work for a long time – leaving well before the boys were up and returning often after dinner time, and so Castiel kept them company for most of the day. Sometimes John would go away for longer, like business trips and duties out of state, so Castiel began to understand why this family was deemed in want of a guardian Angel.
Not to say that the Winchesters were troubled or in danger of trouble, but still, Castiel could have been assigned to worse households. The boys got along well, Dean obviously in charge when John was gone, Sam after him and so on.
He liked the Winchesters. They were warm and friendly people – Sam liked ghost stories and crime shows and Adam was getting really into video games and card tricks. Dean loved Angels. His room was dotted with anatomical diagrams of Angel wings, their glands, and there were books in his room about mating habits and courting rituals and behavioral studies both conducted in the wild and in the household.
It explained why Dean knew so much about Castiel's supposed behavior – at least, the theoretical side, which made a lot of things easier. Castiel grew to learn and accept all of the Winchesters' scents from his nest, and his own scent had been spread evenly throughout the house in the first few weeks, so that he had comfortably marked his territory and other Angels knew instinctively that this household had been claimed.
The problem first arose six weeks in. Castiel woke up to an oil-soaked nest, his breathing heavy and difficult as it seemed every fresh breath of air was being pushed into his lungs and punched back out again.
His wings were heavy, so heavy, and spread out as far as they could get in the room, his body sprawled across the warmth of his nest, and when he breathed deep, he found the scent of the Winchesters still laying underneath, dizzying. He shoved himself upright, stumbling under the weight of his soaked wings, and pushed the skylight open, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool breeze washed over his fevered skin.
His thighs were sticky and damp, new slick leaking out of him as his wings arched high, stretching, testing the weight of his mating oil. He breathed in the scent of the outside air – his own oil tainting the house, freshly mowed grass, dirt, clean air – and jumped slightly at the sound of someone knocking on his door.
"Cas?" Dean. Dean could not see him like this. "Cas, come on, sleepyhead – we've gotta get movin'!"
Castiel frowned. It was a Saturday. Winchesters didn't do anything on a Saturday. "Where are we going?" he asked, schlepping off his oil-stained clothes and trying to find something that was clean and, not only that, but would hide the dark stain of his oil too, since he was almost positive that he had started off one of his Heats and would therefore be leaking all over himself all day if they were planning on going outside.
"Adam's got a game goin' on. Come on, Angel – we'll be in the car!" Then he heard Dean's loud footsteps pounding away, giving the Angel a moment to recover. He blew out a loud breath, running his fingers through his sweaty hair. At least they could be outside, and hopefully downwind so that Castiel didn't cause any distractions – he had been around Adam, Sam and Dean and their friends to know that there were already a few Angels assigned to this district and they would more than likely also be in attendance at the game.
He sighed, steeling himself, wings pressed tight to his back in resignation. There was nothing for it – Dean wouldn't believe him if he said he was sick.
Dean had the car idling when he finally made his way down the stairs, wings pressed tight to his back in the hopes that his oil would soak into his wings before his clothes, and he was wearing one of John's old hoodies as well for extra absorbency, cut so that it would fit around his wings.
If Dean thought his state of dress was odd, given that it was the height of summer and none of the Winchesters were dressed in anything thicker than jeans and t-shirts, he said nothing about it.
The radio was almost off and Sam and Adam were talking animatedly about some new TV show that was starting, centered around two brothers who fought ghosts and demons with their guardian Angel for a living, when Dean abruptly turned to look at him, brows furrowed in concern and his nostrils flared wide like he was smelling something odd. "You okay, Cas?"
The Angel flushed under the scrutiny, his wings shifting restlessly behind him. "Yes, Dean," he murmured, fingers digging into the pocket of his hoodie and he tried not to move too much lest his slick leak out and stain his jeans and the car. "I'm alright."
He rolled the window down, trying to force clean, cool air into the car – the heat was stifling and Dean, Adam and Sam all smelled so good – amazing, if he were to be honest with himself. They smelled like him, like humans in his nest and he desired nothing more than to cover them in his oils, mark them as his humans, wanted them to pile into his nest and be warm and safe under the cover of his wings.
His body was burning and Dean's eyes on the side of his face was like a brand.
The game, as it turned out, was lacrosse, and Castiel had no idea that Adam even played lacrosse – or maybe he did, and had forgotten. His head felt like it was filling up with smoke, and he couldn't concentrate to save his life; his wings were restless, refusing to fold against his back and he kept shifting in the uncomfortable semi-permanent stands at the side of the pitch, couldn't focus long enough to follow whether or not Adam's team had the ball or not, whether he should be cheering or not when a goal was scored.
He jumped when he felt Sam laying a hand against the small of his back, fingers splaying wide. "Are you feeling okay?" Sam asked, brows pulled together in concern, and it made Castiel shift in place, wincing at the slick feeling against his ass, the dampness of his wing oil against his back. His wings fluttered slightly in anticipation of the touch moving upward, curving into his wings, but he held himself back.
"I…" Then, he smelled it. He lifted his head, eyes wide and searching out the source of the scent, and his eyes locked onto a pair of brilliant blue staring back at him – almost the same hue as his own, but darker, flecked with gold. It was a female, a dominant, standing and leaning against one of the stands across from him, her wings splayed wide in an invitational display, large smile curving her mouth upwards in a smirk. He swallowed, averting his gaze from her, ducking his head down. Her scent was overpowering – dominance and promise written into it, her wings arching high and huge, and it made him shudder. "I have to go," he said quickly, standing up and practically fleeing the stands in an attempt to get away from the scent of the dominant Angel and the Winchester men he had grown so fond of.
Sam frowned, looking to Dean who had been disturbed at Castiel's abrupt departure. The older boy's mouth twisted, seeing the damp stain on the back of Castiel's hoodie and down his thighs. "Dean, I think Cas might be sick," Sam said, scooting forward, and Dean looked down to where the Angel had been sitting – saw the metal seat glow dully in the sunlight, shiny and damp, and when he ran his fingers along it they came back moist.
His mouth twisted again, and he pushed himself to his feet. "I'll go make sure he's okay, Sammy. The game's almost finished, make sure Adam and you get to the car and we'll meet you there." He didn't stay to make sure Sam obeyed, instead clambering down to chase after the Angel – he was pretty sure he knew what was affecting Castiel, and if it was the case, then the Angel wasn't sick.
Not even close.
"Hello there, sweetheart." Castiel froze, turning around when he saw the same blue eyes staring into him, the female Angel from the stands leaning against a tree a few feet away, a large smirk on her face. Her eyes raked up and down Castiel's body, heat in her eyes hot enough to make Castiel feel like he was burning, wings stretching out in instinctive display without his consent. "Poor baby, is someone not taking proper care of you at home?"
Castiel shivered, his wings twitching, new slick leaking out of him. He was so tired, so hot – he wanted to crawl into his nest and never come out again. The breeze which had once been so soothing carried too many new smells, smells that weren't of him or his charges and they were starting to make him dizzy. This female reeked of dominant pheromones and it made him want to run.
"I can take care of you," she said, stepping forward and making the other Angel tense, upper lip curling back in a small snarl – Dean, Sam and Adam wouldn't approve of that, and besides, her eyes were too cold, her wings the color of blood and they would clash with Castiel's own blue-black-blonde. He fanned his wings out, this time to make himself appear larger, more threatening. She tutted, shaking her head, her smile widening. "Come on, don't be like that."
"Cas? You okay?" Then there was a hand around the back of his neck, warm fingers tightening and in complete instinct Castiel dropped his wings, knees almost buckling under the strong urge to get to his hands and knees in response to the touch. It shocked him enough that he managed to stay upright, turning wide eyes to look at Dean.
Dean wasn't looking at him, though, but his eyes were focused on the dominant Angel. There was this smirk on his lips that matched hers and the tight hand around the back of his neck was gone as soon as it had come, nails raking down Castiel's spine and Dean was standing so close, so unbearably close and Castiel felt like he was going to shake apart. "Hello," Dean said conversationally, his tone dripping venom as he raised an eyebrow at the Angel.
The female's upper lip curled back, but Dean straightened up, lifting his chin in defiance, one hand curling around the bottom of Castiel's wing and the submissive Angel instinctively curled in close to Dean, his wings tucking in tight to allow his mate more access and -.
-His mate?
It was then Castiel realized; Dean was posing as his mate, his dominant partner, to scare the other Angel off. Just like he must have read in those books of his; Angels didn't encroach on another's territory, because an unmated submissive Angel was frightening enough without adding a dominant mate to it. And Dean must surely reek of Castiel's oils because the Angel had been spreading them around all week and…
Dean was the smartest person in the world.
The female huffed, her wings fanning the air in a seemingly innocuous gesture, but Castiel knew it was to blow more of her scent his way, tempt him away from his mate and it made him hiss, shy closer to Dean, the warmth of Dean's body. "You should keep a tighter hold on your mate," she warned, tilting her head to one side. "Otherwise he will wander."
"Noted," Dean bit back, and Castiel didn't need to read minds to hear the 'bitch' tailing the end of that. He hid a smile against Dean's chest, breathing deep the familiar scent from his nest, his fingers curling in close to the man.
Then, the touch and warmth was gone and Dean was turning to look at him, eyes wide. "Jesus, Cas, why didn't you tell me you were in heat?" the man demanded, placing his hands on Castiel's shoulders, squeezing tight, and the Angel whimpered, ducking his head down, eyes clenched tightly shut.
"Adam had a game," Castiel whispered, eyes flashing up to Dean, wide and afraid. His fingers reached forward, curling into Dean's shirt. He could smell his oil on Dean's hands and it was driving him insane. "Dean, please, I…" He shook his head, swallowing loudly. "Can we go home?"
Dean bit his lip, pupils large in the sunlight as he looked Castiel over. "Yeah, Cas, let's just go wait in the car 'til Sam and Adam finish up, okay?"
The Angel blinked, blowing out a large breath and forced his wings to relax. "It's too late for suppressants now," he said, following Dean as the human curled large, warm fingers around his wrist, leading him back towards the gleam of the Impala. "I'll be next to useless when it fully hits."
"Yeah, well," Dean replied, rubbing a hand over his mouth – the hand that had been coated with Castiel's oil, "we'll cross that bridge when we get to it."
Castiel was a mess. Dean knew it, Castiel knew it, and once Dean had explained the situation to Sam and Adam, they understood as well. The Angel had shut himself off into his room as soon as they'd gotten home with a muffled apology, and Dean had been left to explain the situation to his brothers.
"So…is it bad for him to go through it without anything?" Sam asked as Dean carded through one of his textbooks which described Angel mating practices and rituals, and the older brother shrugged one shoulder.
"Doesn't say Angels suffer – just, you know, the uncontrollable horniness. Damn it," he snapped, shutting the book forcefully. "I should have seen this coming, gone sooner for suppressants. Then at least he'd be able to function."
"We should help him," Adam replied, wringing his hands together. "Like…set him up with an Angel or something. I'm sure they have stuff like that. Or we can…buy him a…a toy or something." Adam blanched at the word and Dean raised an eyebrow – clearly Adam wasn't just using his internet connection for gaming, though Dean would have been hard pressed to believe that anyway.
Dean's mouth twisted in thought. "I don't think so – if he just wanted to have sex, he'd have let that other Angel go for it, but he didn't look…didn't look like he wanted it. He was…" Sam and Adam were looking at him expectantly, and Dean sighed, rolling his head back to rest against the back of the couch. "He acted like he was mated already."
Sam frowned. "But that…that can't happen, can it? Angels don't…I mean we'd notice something like that, right?"
"Angels spread their mating oil over their territory," Dean recited, as though he was reading out of a textbook at the time, "and whoever falls within that territory can be deemed worthy of a mate. Angels can also take multiple mates, and close proximity to these mates triggers an Angel's heat. Other triggers can include coming of age, sudden decrease in population…and blah blah blah, point is Castiel's gone into heat and it's our responsibility to take care of him – either put him on suppressants or find the Angel that triggered his heat."
Adam paused. "What if we can't find the Angel?" he asked, wringing his hands together again. "What if this keeps happening?"
Dean sighed. "We'll deal with that when we get to it. I'm gonna…I'm gonna go see if he's okay – they need a lot of water, lose a lot during their heats, and he'll probably be hungry."
"Okay," Sam agreed, pushing himself to his feet and going to the fridge to grab some bottled water to hand to Dean. "I hope he's feeling okay."
Dean nodded, pressing his lips together, and hurried upstairs.
Castiel was in Hell.
He had closed the skylight as soon as he had come back, knowing that if he left it open his scent would undoubtedly call to any unmated Angels in the vicinity and he couldn't risk drawing unwanted attention to himself. He had pulled off all of his clothes, and was merely sitting in the center of the room, unwilling to soak his nest and unwilling to leave the room to go downstairs. His cock was hard, straining up against his stomach and his wings were trembling and he was sitting in a growing pool of his own slick and oil, dirty and wet and he wanted, so badly, but he couldn't move because if he did then his scent would draw other Angels to him and he didn't want that – he didn't want a different mate, any mate – he already had what he wanted, what he needed, and -.
"Cas?"
Dean. The Angel whimpered softly, words beyond him, and scrambled back, curling his wings forward to try and hide his nakedness, cowering away from Dean as the man climbed up into the attic. "Cas? You okay up here?"
"Dean." Castiel's voice broke on the name, his wings wrapping tight around himself and he shivered when those green, green eyes landed on him, widening when they noticed Castiel's state of arousal and undress.
Dean's eyes went wide, and he licked his lips, nostrils flaring in instinct at the potent scent of Angel in the room. "I, ah, brought you some water, wondered if you were hungry…" he said, pushing the bottle of water onto its side and rolling it towards Castiel, so that he didn't have to get too close to the in-heat Angel. "Cas, what happened? Have you met any Angels that might have triggered this?"
It was hard to concentrate – Dean's voice was rough and low and shot straight down Castiel's spine, shivering wide, his wings flaring out to spread out and display himself to the human. Dean's eyes widened, seeing the display, and he swallowed. Castiel refused to meet his eyes, looking down, biting his lower lip, wings dripping down onto the floor.
"…Is it us?" Dean asked, almost too softly to be heard, and Castiel's eyes snapped up to his, wide and afraid. "Sam, Adam, me…is it one of us?"
"I…" Castiel swallowed, eyes wandering away from Dean's face, down to the floor as he flushed. "I want…" The idea of laying with Dean sent a hot thrill of excitement and desire through him, but…Sam and Adam too – he loved all of them equally and all of their scents were immersed in his nest, and they belonged there and he wanted all of them – their hands in his wings, their mouths on his, fingers carding through his hair, bodies pressed tight to him. "I want all of you."
Dean's eyes widened, and he swallowed loud enough that Castiel could hear the click in his throat. "All...all of us?" he whispered, and Castiel bit his lip, nodding, his eyes clenching tightly shut, before Dean heard his little brother yelling for him. "Uh…I gotta…I'll…" He didn't finish that sentence, merely turned tail and fled from the in-heat Angel, slamming the door tightly shut behind him. The air in Castiel's room clogged up his head and it felt like fresh air was in the rest of the house when he hurried downstairs to find Sam waving on of his books in his face.
"Did you actually read this thing properly?" Adam asked, looking anxious and worried and Dean paused, frowning.
"What do you mean?"
"When it says Angels needs nests, Dean, it doesn't mean that they need nests of the people they're protecting," Sam said, opening the page to one he'd marked with his finger. "It says here Angels build nests around their mates, and all of our stuff is in there…"
"Shit," Dean whispered, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Castiel's words were starting to make a lot more sense, now. "Shit." That would make sense – why Castiel felt drawn to all of them, wanted all of them. He'd put all their clothes in there…shit, even Dad's. "That…that's why he said he…"
Adam fixed wide eyes on his older brother. "Said what, Dean?"
"He…" Dean sighed, clenching his eyes tightly shut briefly, swallowing loudly. He felt horrible, essentially forcing a heat on the poor Angel because he hadn't read the stupid book correctly. "He said he wanted all of us. Like all of us. This makes sense…damn it."
"What do we do?"
"What can we do?" Dean asked, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "Suppressants won't work on him yet, and he's mated to all of us. This problem won't go away." He rubbed a hand over his mouth again, taking a deep breath.
"So…what do we do? Have sex with him?" Sam asked, eyes wide.
Dean shrugged, helpless. "Angels mate for life, Sam," he said softly. "There's no way we can just…not do it. I mean, poor guy's fallin' apart up there – but…I mean, I screwed this up. You guys don't have to…"
Sam and Adam said nothing, looking down at the floor and shuffling their feet, and Dean nodded, pressing his lips together. "Okay. Help me bring up some food and water to him, and then we'll…yeah. Try and soldier through. Heats only last for a couple of days…"
Adam was nodding, already moving towards the kitchen in search of food that would be good cold, and Sam ran to get more water, leaving Dean alone standing at the bottom of the stairs. He turned around, looking back up and resting his hand on the bannister. His fingers came back slightly damp, smelling of the air in Castiel's room. His mating oil. It was spread all over the house, and Dean couldn't help smile slightly.
Sneaky Angel, marking his territory. It made him feel warm inside, but guilty too, knowing he had essentially forced this on the poor Angel – but Castiel had been marking the place well before being presented with his nest, so Dean had to wonder just how much of this was basic instinct, and how much Castiel actually wanted.
He was distracted from his thoughts by Sam and Adam's return, each laden with food and bottled water for the Angel, and Dean nodded, pressing his lips together. "Okay," he said, shrugging his shoulders with a heavy sigh. "Let's, ah, get this show on the road."
"Cas?"
The Angel opened his eyes when he heard Dean's tentative voice, breathing out loudly through his nose as he wrapped his wings tightly around himself, covering his nakedness and bringing his legs in tight to his chest. "Y-yes, Dean?" he asked, eyes wide and nervous when Dean pushed himself up into the attic, leaning back only to grab food and water that Castiel presumed one of his brothers handed to him, setting the things down and shutting the door behind him.
"Cas, I…I've brought some food and some water and I'm sorry," Dean said, all in a rush, making the Angel blink as Dean, unlike before, picked up the water and some food and actually made his way over to Castiel, sitting next to him and offering the bottle.
The Angel eagerly took it, taking a deep swallow because he had already drained the first Dean had brought him. "Thank you, Dean," he whispered, sighing gratefully at the cool balm in his rough throat, and Dean swallowed and nodded. "What are you sorry for?"
Dean sighed, shrugging one shoulder. "I fucked up your nest," he said, looking down, flushing guiltily when the Angel merely stared at him. "Put all of our stuff into it, meant your pheromones reacted to it, or whatever. I'm sorry."
Castiel blinked, frowning a little as his heat-addled brain tried to process what Dean was saying. Of course all their stuff was in his nest; they were his now, too. His wings shifted, sliding wetly along the wall as he leaned against it. "Oh," was all he said, taking another long swig of cool water. "But I wouldn't have kept your things in there if I didn't want them there, Dean."
"Even so," the man replied, sighing heavily. "It means that…well, I know you know what it means. I just…I mean Sam and Adam feel really bad and I'm so sorry I did this to you and -."
And then Dean couldn't say anything else, was cut off by the Angel suddenly pushing himself upright and moving so that he was sitting pretty much on Dean's lap, straddling his thighs and pressing the palm of one clammy hand against Dean's mouth.
Castiel smiled, wings curving forward. "You talk too much, sometimes," he said, slowly pulling his hand away. Dean shifted underneath him, able to feel the slickness of Castiel's wings rubbing against his jeans and another damp spot seeping into his lap – remembered reading that submissive Angels, male or female, produced natural lubricant to aid their mates during heat and breeding – and knew Castiel was probably dripping wet from being unsatisfied all day. "Dean," the Angel whispered, drawing Dean's attention back to his face. His pupils were dark and wide, hair a mess, cheeks flushed and lips bitten red and dry, and Dean swallowed loudly. He was gorgeous. "I…"
"Whatever you need, Cas," Dean replied, clearing his throat when he realized his voice had gone low and raspy, and he could feel the Angel shiver at the sound of his voice. Slowly, carefully, Dean ran his hands up the Angel's thighs, settling on his hips, pulling tight so that he could shift Castiel forward, enough that the Angel's erection rubbed against his stomach.
Castiel let out a soft, broken sound, leaning forward to bury his head in Dean's neck. "Dean, please," he whispered imploringly, wings trembling finely, and Dean let out a harsh breath, knowing what he needed to do before they officially sealed this deal and went past the point of no return.
He pulled in a long, slow breath, letting himself really take in and savor the scent of Castiel's mating oil, the warm, damp feeling of the air that stank of submissive Angel pheromones, and he lifted his hands away from Castiel's hips, and slid his fingertips into the base of his thick, wet wings.
Castiel went tense, a wounded sound muffled against Dean's neck, and the human shushed him, sliding his fingers deeper, turning his head to one side to brush his jaw against Castiel's cheek. "Shh, Angel, I've got you," he whispered, fingers spreading out and combing lightly through the base of Castiel's wings, until he found –.
There they were.
Dean closed his eyes, ducking his head to press his nose against Castiel's sweaty hair, breathing deep as he gently squeezed the submissive Angel's oil glands between his thumbs and forefingers, coaxing out thick spurts of mating oil that had Castiel crying out, writhing in his arms, his wings snapping wildly at the sensation of his glands being milked, until Dean was sure that the oil coated all of his hands – it was important for Angels to smell their oil on their mates, and for their mates to become used to the oil because he knew it was a potent aphrodisiac and it would make sure Dean – and his brothers and his father – would be able to physically satisfy Castiel; they would be attracted to the Angel no matter what.
"C'mon, Cas," Dean whispered, nosing at the line of Castiel's hair, pressing a gentle kiss to his neck. "Come on, let's get to your nest. It'll be more comfortable."
But Castiel couldn't move even if he had wanted to – his knees were weak, his wings felt heavy and exhausted and he couldn't lift them if he tried. "Dean," he grit out, voice weak and wanting when he lifting his head, his fingers curling tightly in Dean's hair and pressing forward for a sloppy, harsh kiss that had Dean gasping into his mouth. The air reeked of his oil and pheromones and he could feel Dean's heartbeat rushing upwards, thundering in his chest, and sighed deeply when he felt Dean finally start to thicken up underneath him, his oil working on Dean to make his mate receptive to the idea of breeding him.
He released Dean's head once he was sure his mate wasn't going anywhere, turning his nails to Dean's clothing – his body was burning now, so close to getting what it wanted, needed, and he would be damned if he was taking things slow now. The heat had never hit Castiel this hard, even back in the facility where he had been born, raised and trained, and Dean was a warm, inviting balm, his touches sure like he knew how to touch an Angel – and perhaps he did, with all his textbooks and research. Surely no one else in this family knew to milk and mark themselves with Castiel's wing oil.
He wondered, briefly, if Dean would teach them that.
"Dean," he snarled again when Dean's hands wouldn't move, refused to help him, before the human blinked, biting his lip, and quickly helped Castiel undo the buckle of his belt, sliding the zip down on his jeans and undoing the button so that Castiel could reach in and wrap moist fingers around the human's hardening cock.
Dean jolted under his touch, as though he had been electrocuted, dragging in a deep, pheromone-scented breath, lids fluttering shut over is eyes. He was so beautiful, Castiel thought – beautiful and mine.
The Angel pushed his hands against Dean's shoulders, forcing him to lean back so he was resting against the sloped wall, head ducking forward, shoulders tensed, but it allowed Castiel enough room to undo his jeans, pulling them just down enough on his thighs that Castiel could reach for him, so that he was exposed to the hot air of the room, and he shoved at Dean more, sliding forward as far as he could until he managed to angle Dean's cock so that the blunt head rested against his eager, wet opening.
Dean's fingers curled around the backs of his thighs, halting him from sliding down straight away, and Castiel growled, angry at his mate for denying him what he needed, fingers carding roughly through Dean's hair as he kissed him again, hissing his name against the man's open, parted mouth. "Dean," he growled, rolling his hips back, forcing Dean's hands to tighten. "Dean. Let me."
Dean grunted, biting his lower lip, trying to draw in enough air between the Angel's harsh, long kisses, enough air to satisfy his starving lungs because Castiel was burning up and he felt like he was going to explode. With a small noise of effort, he pushed himself away from the wall, enough that the slanted ceiling was no longer stopping him from comfortably resting, and managed instead to lean back against the edge of Castiel's soft nest, which meant the Angel had a better angle for resting on him, and both of them would be more comfortable.
He didn't wait for another demanding, impatient order, and as Castiel curled his upper lip back, eyes flashing in anger, he tightened his hold and thrust upward, hilting himself inside the tight, slick channel of the Angel in one thrust.
Fuck.
Dean was by no means a virgin, but nothing could have prepared him for the desperate, burning-hot clench of Castiel's heat-entrenched body. The Angel was breathing heavily, boneless in his arms as both of them went still, simply recovering and getting used to the sensation of being so intimately joined. Castiel's wings were twitching slightly, but relaxed, falling around Dean's and his own body in an instinctive desire to shield outsiders from seeing their mating, and Dean knew if he had his own wings he'd be reaching them up around Castiel, covering his submissive Angel's wings in his oil and slicking it down Castiel's back to leak onto where they were both joined together.
Dean let out a loud exhale, rubbing a hand up and down Castiel's spine, spreading his scent in his sweat along the Angel's back. "You alright?" he asked, brushing his other hand now through Castiel's hair and simply holding him until he stopped shaking.
The Angel nodded, damp hair tickling Dean's neck, his breath warm and unsteady, fingers flexing against the human's chest. "Yes, Dean," he whispered, voice raspy and rough and it made Dean shiver. "Thank you."
Dean smiled. "Come here," he said, forcing his tired limbs to move as he nuzzled at Castiel's mouth, drawing him in for a kiss – this one gentler, kinder, more promise than demand and he rolled his hips, grinding deeper into the Angel just to feel Castiel clutch around him, clenching tightly. "Come on, Angel. Show me how much you want it."
It was so adorable, then, the way Castiel flushed, eyes dipping down coyly, an eager, enticing smile curving his mouth. Slowly his hands made their way to Dean's shoulders, nails digging in tight enough to elicit a hiss from the man, before Castiel braced himself, wings flaring out for balance, and started a rhythm on Dean's cock, rising up and slamming back down with as much force as he could muster.
"Shit, Cas," Dean gasped out, closing his eyes tightly shut at the feeling of the Angel, so deliciously tight and hot around him – it felt fucking awesome, better than any lay Dean had had before, the oil and pheromones going straight to his head and clogging his mouth and nose and everything, everything about Castiel was setting his body on fire. "Cas, God – fuck."
The Angel let out a low, throaty chuckle, wrapping his fingers around the back of Dean's neck and pulling him in for another kiss, wings flaring up high around their heads to hide that away too. "You feel so good, Dean," he whispered into the non-space between their mouths, breathing shaky and unsteady, so warm and wet and he shuddered when Dean's hands pressed into his wings again, massaging more oil from the base of them. "You – Dean."
"Shh, Angel, I've got you," Dean gasped out, slanting their lips together once more as he shifted lower, planting his feet on the ground to give him enough purchase to thrust fully upwards into Castiel, drive as deep as he could into the Angel until he felt Castiel tense up and whine with pleasure. He did it again, and again, the Angel answering him, hips snapping down every time Dean thrust up until Castiel was shaking and gasping and moaning with pleasure.
"That's it," Dean murmured, baring his teeth against the panting Angel's throat. "That's it, Cas, come on, Angel."
"Dean, Dean." And then Castiel was gone – he cried out loudly, wings pinning tightly to his sides around Dean's and his body, nails digging in almost harshly enough to break skin against Dean's shoulders and his body locked down, thighs tensing almost suffocatingly tightly around Dean's hips, channel clenching as he came.
Dean grunted, eyes clenching tightly shut at the feeling of the Angel tightening up around him, way too tight, felt like he was fucking suffocating inside Castiel, and he knotted one hand in the Angel's hair, drawing his legs up to force Castiel closer to his body, other hand still stuck firmly in the Angel's soaking wings, and allowed his orgasm to overtake him as well, biting down on his lip hard enough that he tasted blood to avoid making too loud of a sound.
The Angel's wings were trembling when Dean managed to open his eyes, blowing out a breath that made Castiel shiver, his warm exhale skating the Angel's bared neck. Dean slowly relaxed, petting his hand through Castiel's wing that he could reach, tilting his head to kiss at the exposed skin of the Angel's throat. "How you feelin', Cas?" he asked, his voice rough and mouth try, and he swallowed, licking his lips to try and wet his mouth.
Castiel bit his lip, drawing back just far enough to rest his forehead against Dean's, pupils still wide and dark, cheeks reddened from the heat of the room, which was almost stifling, the air hard to breathe and reeking of sex. "Better," the Angel replied, shifting in place enough that Dean's softened cock slid out of him, making them both hiss. "But I fear that may not last long. Dean, I'm -."
"Shh," Dean replied, smiling tiredly. He could already feel his eyelids drooping – that orgasm had wrung him dry, and he wondered just how much of that was the effect of Castiel's mating oil, or his own attraction to the Angel. Knew that the oil was designed to lock in potential mates, keep them wanting more, promising everything they would ever need if they simply laid with their submissive Angels. "I, ah, Sam and Adam are on board, I think. I know I can't get it up enough for your heat, and they're willing to help you through it. I'm just sorry I fucked this up so bad."
"Dean," Castiel interrupted, smiling wide and shaking his head, and Dean knew that if Castiel wasn't too busy staring at him he'd be rolling his eyes, a tired exhale falling from his lips. "That is ridiculous. I am fond of all of you, and would not have allowed your things to stay in my nest if I didn't want them there."
Dean smiled, his shoulders sagging in relief, and he moved his hands from Castiel's hair and wings to settle on his hips, thumbs rubbing small circles in his back, just under his wings. "You wanna eat somethin' before it hits again? Do you need anything?"
Castiel blushed, biting his lower lip, and gingerly moved to get off of Dean. The man looked down at himself – his shirt was soaked through and the top of his jeans was damp from oil and sweat, and he doubted either of them were remotely salvageable, but he still pulled his jeans up, grimacing at the wet feeling like when clothes weren't all the way dry from being washed, and pushed himself to his knees so he could crawl over to the food and drag it to Castiel with the least amount of effort.
They ate in relative silence, Castiel scarfing down as much food and water as he possibly could, his wings fanning the air lightly in contentment that made Dean smile – the Angel was happy, sated for now, and for that he was glad. He hated that he had put Castiel in this situation and would have felt like a complete ass for just leaving him up here and doing nothing to help.
All too soon, though, Castiel was shifting restlessly again, and with a soft sound of anxiety he reached back and pulled the soaked and ruined hoodie that he had discarded before, to his chest, already tinged pink in the flush of heat.
"Cas?" Dean asked, earning a flash of wary, blackened eyes from the Angel. "Do you need to go again?"
Castiel bit his lip, eyes dipping down, and nodded, and Dean smiled softly, setting down his bottle of water. "Okay, Angel," he replied, standing and taking Castiel's hand, pulling him to his feet. "But this time, we're going into your nest. It's only right."
And Castiel flushed a darker red again, wings fanning the air to blow his scent towards Dean, letting the human know just how overjoyed he was that Dean knew and understood Angelic mating customs – they needed to mark the nest with each other's scents otherwise Castiel's oil would overpower all of it and it would be an empty mating.
He smiled, drawing Castiel into another kiss, hands dipping under Castiel's arms to dig into his wings, pulling them close together. The Angel eagerly surged into him, fingers curling tightly into Dean's hair and pressing their bodies together as tightly as he could, before Dean turned them and pressed Castiel down on his back in the nest.
Dean laid Castiel bare, fingers carding through the Angel's wings, pressing his mouth against flushed, quivering flesh until Castiel was gasping and writhing underneath him, Grace glowing in his eyes and every touch laid to Dean's shoulders and face aching with desperation, and when Dean finally slid into him once more, that was all it took for Castiel to throw himself off of that cliff edge.
When Dean finished, he knew he would be too worn out to satisfy the Angel again for a couple of hours, but Castiel's still-needy touch and the soft sounds he was making let Dean know that the heat was far from over.
He kissed Castiel's forehead, stroking a hand through the Angel's hair and closed his eyes. It was time to get his brothers.