Title: Needing Space and Needing More (censored version)
Fandom: Supernatural
Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester
Word Count: 2,076
Rating: M (Possible strong but non-explicit adult themes, references to violence, and strong coarse language.)
Genre: Trash Romance
Summary: While Dean's restraint is commendable, human!Cas is finding his own patience wearing thin. In which Dean becomes an accidental voyeur and decides he really likes what he sees. Destiel!

Author's Notes: 1,555 words have been edited out of this version to make it as suitable as possible for this site while still retaining a fraction of the intent. For the full smut-filled version, please visit my AO3 page – link available on my profile!

Disclaimer: I own nothing …

The first weeks that Castiel had returned to the bunker had been coloured with a somber air. Dean had been visibly guilty around him, no doubt beating himself up inside for essentially making his best friend homeless. But, after the first week or so, Cas found himself unable to blame the elder Winchester. Dean had been so worried about his brother that he was willing to believe the words of an angel he'd only just met. Castiel could only guess how hard it was for Dean to make the decisions he had.

As the weeks turned to months, Cas became more accustomed to his new-found humanity. The Winchesters made sure to give him the space he needed to do so, and to settle into life in the bunker, and the continue healing from his fall from grace. He appreciated it. But as time wore on he found there was one aspect of humanity that space was not helping with, and he was unsurprised that it was something he wanted only Dean to help him with.

It had taken sometime and more than a bit of "testing the waters" on Cas' part for Dean to clue into what Castiel wanted. But the arousal that was so clearly mirrored in the hunter's green eyes let Cas know that the want was reciprocated. Despite Dean's sometimes visible restraint. Each time Dean looked close to acting on that shared want, he would pull away and give some excuse to leave the room. (Cas needed time to sort _ out, Cas needed space to sort _ out, Sam needed help with _, Baby needed a tune-up, Cas needed to rest and recover – whatever Dean had decided on that week.)

Each time, they'd get closer to taking that final, admittedly terrifying if exhilarating, step that they both so obviously wished to take… so close… Only for Cas to be left twice as frustrated as he'd been before.

Cas huffed in irritation as Dean retreated to the kitchen. This week, Cas apparently needed to work on rebuilding his strength by eating more. He stormed petulantly out of the library where they'd all been researching the Winchester's latest case before Sam decided to make a much needed supply run and made his way to a room that he had taken as part of his domain. It was a sort of sitting room or den, furnished with comfortable chairs and a couch in a rich burgundy colour that matched the dark stained panelling of the walls. An assortment of artwork adorned the walls depicting various supernatural creatures. In the centre of the far wall sat a fireplace façade, flanked on each side by a pair of medium sized bookcases in the same wood as the panelling. The fireplace didn't actually burn a real fire, but gave off a light and heat that imitated the flames. He turned it on and observed the way the light played off his surroundings. Dean found it a little creepy for his tastes. The hunter preferred the fully stocked garage and a few of the workshops they'd discovered in the bunker.

Cas sat down on his favourite chair, trying in vain to quell the arousal that thrummed in his veins. His hands running along the plush, smooth arm rests, the back of his head pressed into the cushioning. He took a deep, steadying breath that did nothing to steady his need. Thinking of Dean and the garage had him bringing up the image of Dean covered in a thin sheen of sweat, patches of grease staining his skin, his muscles flexing as he carefully worked on his beloved car's engine… Cas groaned and pressed himself back into his chair, gripping the armrests.

He took another breath and let his right hand slide up the armrest until it moved onto his chest and he caressed himself through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. He enjoyed feeling the heat of his body on his palm. Castiel relaxed and allowed himself to appreciate the sensation of his hand on his stomach… His fingers reached the hem of his shirt where it had bunched up just above the band of his jeans. He lightly brushed his fingertips along the thin line of exposed skin… The irritation from earlier had ebbed away and all that was left was the gentle pulse of arousal that never really seemed to go away.

He pressed his palm flat against his skin and slowly dragged it down. He gasped at the teasing pressure, as his left hand travelled up his shirt… He shivered at the sensations.

He pulled the t-shirt off and tossed it aside. He ran his hands through his hair and down his neck, sliding them down the bared, sweat dampened skin of his torso to stop once they reached the hem of his briefs. He pause momentarily, running his fingertips along the edge, before hooking his thumbs into the band and pulling both the briefs and his jeans down. He moved forward, closer to the edge of his seat and leaned back into the chair, running his hands along his thighs…

He wondered, not for the first time, what it would be like to have other hands on him. Hunter's hands. Dean's hands … Castiel gasped at the image. He threw his head back, eyes shut tight, and gasped loudly, chasing the peak of the roaring boil building in his veins. Closer, and closer, a-and… "Dean!"

His breath came in gasps.

His arched spine relaxed down into the chair and he sighed contently… only to tense and the unexpected "Holy shit."

His eyes snapped open and his gaze zeroed in on the door to his chosen retreat.

Dean was standing in the doorway, one hand grasping the doorknob, the other clinging to the door frame.

Castiel's voice caught in his throat.

They both remained frozen. Staring at each other with wide eyes.

Cas' mouth felt dry.

He drew breath but found he could not utter a sound.

Then Dean blinked…

…drew in a shaky breath…

…and took a step into the room.

He kicked the door shut behind him and stood, staring at the debauched image laid before him, all glowing tanned skin and firm muscle. His tongue shot out and moistened his lips, his hand reached up and he ran his thumb along the edge of the bottom. He seemed in a trance.

"Dean?" Cas managed.

Dean blinked again and shook his head a bit as if to clear it. Cas watched his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed before clearing his throat. "Hey, Cas," he offered with a quirk of his mouth.

Cas looked decidedly unimpressed. Was that really all he had to say?

Dean chuckled and shook his head, "No, but I don't really think this is the time for words."

Cas blinked, thinking for a moment that Dean could read minds before realizing he'd said that out loud. He cleared his own throat. "And what time is this for?" he ventured.

Dean drew nearer, biting his bottom lip. He hesitated for a brief moment, an unsure look flickering in his eyes for a moment. A determined look quickly replaced it and he moved forward, coming to stop directly in front of Cas' mostly unclad form. He licked his lips once more.

"You thinkin' 'bout me, Cas?" his slightly gravelly voice asked huskily.

Castiel gulped at the look in his friend's eyes that, before now, he'd only ever seen in the eyes of a predator hunting its prey. Suddenly unable to form words around the almost frightened anticipation, he nodded twice, eyes never leaving Dean's gaze.

The edge of Dean's mouth quirked up in a wolfish grin. He slowly sank to his knees in front of the former angel. "When you think of me, what am I doing?" Dean's hushed words made the only just calmed arousal stir in Cas' veins. "Do I touch you, Castiel?" A shock of arousal jolted through him at the sound of his full name on those lips. "Do I put my hands on you?" Dean asked, reaching up and grasping the edge of his jeans and briefs, pulling them down farther to rest around his calves before he skimmed his calloused hands up to rest his fingers in the bend of Cas' knees, running his thumbs along the bottom of his kneecaps.

Cas shivered at the skin-to-skin contact. His arousal grew further and he could feel his body beginning to respond to it.

"Do I touch you like this?" Dean asked in feigned innocence. "Or is it more like this?" On the emphasis he yanked Castiel forward until his butt was on the edge of the seat. He caressed the soft skin just beneath the inner bend of Cas' knees before sliding his hands up the outer thighs of both legs, fingertips just brushing the bends of Cas' hip joints, before retreating.

Cas inhaled quickly, exhaling a shaky breath.

Dean leaned forward, face inches from the other man's stomach. "Did that feel good, Cas?" He looked up, green eyes opened wide. "Did you like it?"

He paused. Waited.

Cas licked his lips and nodded, still unable to put thoughts to words.

"What about this?" Dean leaned farther.

Cas jumped at the sensation of a tongue on his skin. His vision whited out for a second… "Dean," he gasped, his body shivering.

"Shh," Dean breathed into his skin. "It's alright, Cas." The calloused hands began massaging the thick muscles of his thighs. Cas let his eyes fall shut as he focused on the sensations Dean was provoking… "I'm going to make you feel so good, sunshine," Dean promised. "I'm gonna make up for all those times I turned away."

"Dean, it's- I-I…" Cas grasped the armrest with one hand and the headrest in the other as Dean effectively deprived him of the ability to speak coherently.

Dean grinned before his expression sobered a little. "I never should've made you wait this long."

Before Cas could respond to that admission, Dean made his world explode and feel, all at once like a mixture of torture and so, so much like the place he'd once called home…

He was close to the peak that would sate his continuously building arousal… so close…

"Aaah! What the hell, Winchester!?"

Dean barked a laugh and looked at him both startled and impressed by the use of his last name. He looked at Cas with a devilish grin and, instead of answering, grabbed Cas' remaining clothing and managed to remove his jeans, briefs, shoes, and socks in one go before tossing them all aside. While impressed himself, Cas was still glaring at Dean for stopping right when Cas was about to reach his climax.

"While that's nice, I believe you were in the middle of something," Cas groused.

Dean smirked and stood up. He undid his own jeans, his eyes travelling along the expanse of Castiel's nude, and very aroused, form. He wet his lips. "Mmm. Sunshine, rainbow, and pot of gold in one."

Cas would have said something snarky, but Dean had other ideas…

"Dean. Dean, Dean, Dean," Cas said Dean's name like a prayer.

Dean kissed his neck. "Does that feel good, Cas?" he breathed into his ear. "Do you like it?"

"Dean," Cas mewled. "I love you."

There was a sharp intake of breath and it hit him what he'd just said.

"D-Dean I-"

Dean cut of whatever Cas was about to say with a heated kiss. Before long Castiel was babbling in Enochian. He felt like he was falling apart and being remade all at once.

When they finally came back down into their bodies from whatever heights they'd ascended to, they were lying next to each other on the floor, both gasping for air. It took a while for them to regain most of their breath… and it took a while longer to regain control over their bodies. Cas managed to roll onto his front, his head turned towards Dean.

They stared at each other, still breathing ragged.

Dean reached over and smoothed Cas' sweaty hair back. Hand resting at the base of the man's neck. He opened his mouth as if to say something but nothing came out. He shut it again and just looked into Castiel's eyes.

Castiel smiled softly.

He shuffled closer to Dean. He leaned in close until their noses brushed… and paused…

"I know, Dean," he whispered.

Dean leaned in and kissed his lips.

- 30 -

The End

Completed: November 20, 2016
Updated: January 10, 2017