Disclaimer: Kripke's. Unfortunately.

Note: I write 'Cass' with a double 's', as it's the spelling used in the DVD subtitles. It may look funny to you, but I like it like that.

Betaed by Hota, who did a great job.

Having Some Fun

Dean broke the kiss with a moan as his need for air overcame the one for the lips his own had been locked to. The hand around his cock tightened, making him thrust upwards with a strangled gasp. Cass was so good at this.

His eyes fluttered open without him willing them to, and he was rewarded with the sight of a grinning angel above him. For once, Dean wasn't complaining about the lack of personal space. If anything, Cass couldn't be close enough right now.

Cass added another twist to his hand movement, chuckling when Dean bucked into his fist. "Feels good?" he asked, and hearing his beautiful raspy voice nearly made Dean come right then.

"You have no idea," Dean answered through clenched teeth, his orgasm pooling somewhere low in his belly. "Just… Keep talking to me, okay?"

The laugh was a nice surprise, as Cass was always so serious in the bedroom, and it shot arrows of pleasure straight to his groin. Panting, Dean shut his eyes when a white light began to blind him, his hands finding Cass' shoulders and gripping them as if his life depended on it.

"Let go, Dean. I'm right there. Do you know how beautiful you are with my hands on you? You are God's masterpiece, from your perfect body to those sounds you make when you're about to come, just like you do now… Come for me, Dean…"

With a shout, Dean's back arched off the bed, and his fingers buried themselves so deep in his angel's skin that he was sure they would leave a permanent mark.

The fog slowly cleared from his head. Still trying to catch his breath, he felt Cass' fingers on his parted lips.

"Clean it," the angel commanded, and Dean dutifully obeyed, his half-lidded eyes following the drop of black sweat running down Cass' temple.

The angel's grin widened. "Now, this is going to be so much fun…"

.

Dean spasmed upright with the weird feeling of being both aroused and nauseous. Pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle his scream, he thanked whatever deity was still around for not having woken Sam up; his brother was still happily snoring in the other bed. With a short sigh, he got up and went to the small bathroom.

Dean splashed cold water onto his tired face and studied himself in the mirror. He'd been having that same dream since Cass' death, and while the first time had been horrifying (…Hello? Wet dream about dead best friend? So not cool), he was used to it now. It was always like that; beginning with Cass and him in whatever Kama Sutra position his currently sex-deprived brain wanted to imagine them in, and ending with Dean realising that it wasn't really Cass he was making lo– having sex with.

Not that it changed anything, Dean thought as he glared down at the damp spot in his boxers. Apparently, some part of him couldn't accept that Cass was gone for good this time. That part was still fighting with what he knew was the truth, and he didn't know how to make the disturbing dreams stop.

There was only one thing to do about it. He couldn't exactly tell his brain to stop mocking him with what-ifs and what-could-have-beens, so he did the next best thing. He started the shower and climbed inside, removing all evidence of the dream from his body. In the morning, he would act as if nothing could faze him.

And if Dean Winchester spent the rest of the night with his nose buried in Castiel's trench coat, well… no one would know about it.

AN: Alright, many insecurities here. I'd really like to know what you think.