Author: Mistofstars
Pairing: Dean Winchester / Castiel
Warnings: Spoilers for 8x23 and everything before that, angst, sappy, hurt/comfort
Disclaimer: Castiel and Dean Winchester are not mine, they belong to the creators of Supernatural. No money is being made with this, and all of it is made up.
Author's note: This is the second attempt I gave this idea, the first one was built in a different way with four chapters, but somehow I didn't like it. So now, here's this oneshot I'm rather okay with.
Rating: T (not sure about the last lines, though. But come on, that's not what this is about haha)
Salvation
Dean gently wraps an arm around the back of the body leaning against his chest. His fingertips dig into the soft beige fabric on the small of the body's back, clinging to the flesh underneath. He hears a sigh next to his ear, and one of his hands starts stroking the back up and down, over and over again. Warmth spreads underneath his palm and the body moves closer to his. Chest to chest, hips to hips. There's a chin resting on his shoulder, and fine strands of hair tickling his neck. Dean tilts his head to meet the other's, their frames relax into each other. Their bodies melt together. It's a soothing gesture they share; his other arm moves down and his hand grab the other's hip, holding him in place.
Dean remembers a lot when he buries his face in the other's neck, gently nuzzling the overpowering scent of skin and earth and spicy wind. He remembers an angel who saved him from Hell. An angel who rebelled for him, despite his orders and his celestial brothers. Someone he could rely on during all those years, to whom he eventually prayed. Dean also remembers the grief he has brought upon this angel – he couldn't save him from his doubts, he couldn't fight next to him when Heaven's angels strived for power and a leader. Moreover, Dean still regrets his blindness leading the angel to desperate attempts because he thought he had no allies. The angel, who made a deal with a demon, because he thought he was doing the right thing.
Dean's fingers tighten their grip on the body's back and hip, delve into the flesh. The alien frame seems so fragile now, more lost than ever. Dean remembers the angel losing his faith in God, his creator. It had never been worse than that, seeing an angel losing his purpose. Feeling miserable for him without being able to help him. Dean knows now he should have tried harder back then, he should have tried doing something, anything, to make it better. Maybe he could have stopped certain occurrences, for example the lost angel playing God, filled with the idea of fixing things and saving the world.
He hears another wrenched sigh as his lips gently kiss the other's neck – he tastes the warm skin, and it tastes pure and clean, refreshes him like cold water. One hand of his gets lost in the soft warm strands of brown hair, slides through it absentmindedly. Dean thinks about all those times he was angry at the angel for not listening to him, for performing deeds Dean feared he would regret forever; Acting like God, befouling the Earth with Leviathans, breaking Sam's mind... All of this is nothing compared to what the angel has done this time. Only, this time he is the one who suffers the most from his intentions. And Dean feels no anger anymore – it's been a while to understand his wrath in the first place, but now Dean knows he had always been angry just because he cared. And he cares a lot.
He slightly disengages to have a look at the man standing so close in front of him. It still takes his breath away, how the man's eyes are dull and lifeless; he's beyond the point of grief and despair, he's just a shell of the angel he used to be. It's a traumatic phase he's going through, and Dean's not sure if the man will make it. It makes Dean's heart leap with fear and panic, because he is uncertain whether he will still be there in 24 hours, or if he does something stupid and hopeless before Dean has the chance to rescue him. His forefinger reaches out to touch the man. He lets it come to halt on the pale cheek, its protruding sharp bone. Dean tenderly smiles when his finger follows the trail of a tear that lingered there – now the skin is damp and cold; something breaks in the other's blue eyes, when Dean gives in to a need and leans forward. His lips gingerly kiss the wet skin, and he tastes salt, the remnants of a tear. Crying, he thinks, such a human thing to do.
The other person moves closer, the tiny step that had been keeping them apart, and again he melts into Dean's soothing nearness. Dean's lips explore the face of the lost one, leave little kisses along the way. They move to the frown and kiss it a few times until the worry lines disappear. He feels moist warm breaths meeting his jaw and throat as he makes his way down. Lashes flutter against his skin, tickle him. Usually it would have made him smile, but Dean feels like he can never smile again. Not, when the one he cares about so dearly is so broken, so shattered, disillusioned. His mouth moves to the corner of the other's, and he kisses it cautiously, waiting for a sign. The breathing against his face stops for a second, then it hitches, and it's enough permission for Dean to press his lips against those plump, soft, sinful ones. They kiss slowly and open-mouthed, and it's filled with pleasure and pain and raw emotions.
Dean's fingers frame the other's face and he tilts his head to roam his lover's mouth deeply. He feels a shy tongue moving against his bottom lip, and he catches it with his own playfully. His heart skips a beat, then it starts a frantic pace. Soon Dean feels he's losing control as kiss after kiss heats the atmosphere up; he hears erratic exhales against his mouth, and there's a warm forehead resting against his. For a while all they do is stand there in Dean's room, arms wrapped around each other's backs. Their pelvises touch and Dean finds it arousing and confusing at the same time. All he knows, when he opens his eyes, to look into dark widened pupils in a sea of blue, is that he needs to save this one. This time, there really is no excuse. He has to save Castiel, for all the times he could not do it, for all the times he didn't dare to.
Now that his angel is human and so battered, he needs him to see all the things Dean feels for him. Dean knows, he can never replace his angelic family, or God, or the faith Castiel has lost, but he can give him all he still has, and he hopes it makes up for the pain Castiel had to go through – even if only a tiny bit. Castiel's hand moves, and it comes to rest on Dean's cheek – Dean's gaze fills with tenderness when he sees Castiel tries but fails to smile, his eyes are welling up with tears. He feels Cas pulling at his skin, and there's a desperate expression veiling his face, but Dean understands it perfectly when their mouths crash against each other again. He feels the desire in Castiel's rough kisses, he feels the need in every of his pore seeping through to his. Dean has no objections when Cas' shaky fingers land on his belt buckle, when they slowly open his jeans. He knows what it's like to be so exasperated and in dire need for something that feels good.
When they part again, panting against each other's wet lips, Dean wants to give Castiel an insight to his soul. He wants Castiel to understand that this physical part is not everything, that there's more beyond the flesh, waiting there for Castiel to find it. He has never been good with words, but he has learnt within the last years that sometimes he has to overcome his weaknesses. It doesn't hurt when he reveals words that have been dwelling on his tongue for too damn long – and it's a relieving reward when he sees a little honest smile flashing over Cas' face, the first since the angels fell.
"You can have all of me, Cas, all you need. Take it."
And Castiel does; he tilts his head and his mouth crashes against Dean's lips. Soon hands are roaming frantically over the other's body, claiming and demanding, while their kisses become heated and passionate. Dean lets Cas take the lead. He loves the way he shoves him down on his bed, the way he straddles his lap and then bends down to kiss him wildly and unrestrainedly. Dean knows there's only so much he can give, but he's thrilled Castiel decides to use it, and he hopes that someday it's enough to rescue Castiel. Dean inwardly screams at God to listen to his prayers, because Castiel has deserved salvation. It's the moment Castiel reaches his height on top of him, stark naked and exposed in such a trustful way, that Dean holds his breath as Castiel rides out his orgasm – he sees a glimpse of joy sparkling in those gorgeous blue eyes when they focus on his, and it's so akin to hope, that Dean feels he might be enough. Just for once, he might be enough. And maybe he can save this one.
THE END
did any of this even make sense haha x)? sorry that I always drift into the sexual area, the two of them just do that to me! The more I write about them the more I want them to roll in the sheets...