Title: Darkness moves upon you
Author: sephirothflame
Fandom: Supernatural
Rating: NC17
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x Castiel
Warning(s): car!sex, comfort!sex
Spoiler(s): 5.22, "Swan Song"
Prompt(s): tiptoe39, SPN, author's choice, sex as mourning/grief
Word Count: 2,830
Rants: I have a habit of naming fics after Alexi Murdoch's "Breathe"...
Summary: They take comfort from each other the one way they know how.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
"Cas," Dean says. He closes the door behind him loudly, just so he can hear it bang, and there is a small part of him that's pleased when the Fallen angel jumps at the sound. He's not sure what he's expecting to see when Castiel turns his wide blue eyes on Dean but he looks so lost that this feeling that's been boiling up inside of Dean is ready to explode.
"Yes, Dean?" Castiel asks while he watches Dean, but Dean doesn't know what he wants, so he doesn't answer, and Castiel must draw some sort of conclusion from it because he nods his head in acquiescence. "If that is what you need," he says.
Dean's not sure what Castiel means, he only came to the back porch to vent a little, but he doesn't stop Castiel from grabbing his hand and leading him into the salvage yard where the Impala is stowed away for now. She could use a bath, and one of the tires is looking a little flat, but Dean doubts that's what Castiel has in mind when he tells Dean to unlock the doors and starts stripping.
They've done this before, the sex, it's not new to them, but they haven't done it since Castiel has Fallen. Dean grabs Castiel's hands to still them before Castiel has the chance to start unbuttoning his shirt. His trench coat and suit coat are tossed haphazardly into the front seat and it's almost depressing how familiar that is. Dean wants this, wants to feel Castiel under him, but tomorrow Sam is going to say "yes" to the Devil and Dean isn't sure if he can do this.
"You are the one who taught me it is okay to seek relief in pleasure of the flesh," Castiel tells Dean softly. He tests the strength of Dean's grip, but he doesn't pull away. "Allow me to help you, Dean." His blue eyes are so open and honest, and even without the depth of them (something Dean has always assumed was because Castiel was an angel, and he guesses now he has been proven right) Dean can't help but tumble into them.
They kiss then, at first tentatively, to test their footing on shaking waters. It's different, somehow, but kissing Castiel is no different now than it was before despite that. Dean nips at Castiel's lower lip before sucking it into his mouth and Castiel takes this as sign to continue unbuttoning his shirt and loosening his tie. Dean traces Castiel's lips with his tongue, parts them, before he slips it into the warm wetness of Castiel's mouth, and Castiel's tongue brushes against his once, lightly, before letting him explore.
When they part for breath, Castiel shrugs off his shirt and undershirt and tie and throws them in the front seat, and he helps Dean to pull his own off and above his head. Dean's fingers hesitate over the scars from the banishing sigil and something clenches in his chest. It must show on his face, whatever Dean is feeling but too numb to connect to, because when they kiss again it's sweet and tender, and Castiel guides them into the backseat of the Impala slowly.
One day, Dean thinks, they're going to have sex in a real bed. Not on the floor like the first time, on their first last night on Earth together, and not in the backseat of the Impala like they always seem to end up. Only, it occurs to Dean that if Sam says "yes" tomorrow, there isn't going to be a one day. Tomorrow the world is going to end and Castiel is never going to know what it's like to really make love to someone, he'll have died only knowing drunk and horny and desperate fucking. Dean regrets this more than Castiel does.
Dean starts trailing kisses down Castiel's jaw and neck, pausing to kiss and lick at all the spots he's long since learned will leave the Fallen angel panting. He kisses his way across broad shoulders and a bony collarbone, his fingers tweaking nipples until they're pert, and eventually he wraps his mouth around those too, nipping and sucking.
And Castiel lets Dean, doesn't fight it. They're never this gentle, this explorative, but Dean's never really shown Castiel how things could be before, he just took and took until there was nothing left – because no one has ever let Dean do that before, no one has ever treated him like the world is his for the taking – and he feels terrible about it.
Castiel deserves more than Dean, but it's too late to do anything about it. They can't go back in time and odds are there won't be a future with which to fix this. That makes it Dean's responsibility, and he's going to do it right this time.
Eventually, Dean tells Castiel to sit up with his back against the car door, giving them more room to work with, and the both take the opportunity to kick of their shoes and socks. When Castiel makes to undo his belt, Dean stops him again and silences his protests with another kiss. "Trust me," he says, and he doesn't need to see the look in the Fallen angel's eyes to know that Castiel does completely.
His fingers trace the angry red scars from the banishing sigil and Castiel shivers under the touch. He did this, he carved this here and it's his fault Castiel has Fallen, but that's an entire other argument Dean needs to have with himself, later, when they're done here. He's not going to let himself forget it, either, and he places a gentle kiss to the center of the mark.
Castiel's breath hitches and Dean can feel the Fallen angel tense beneath him, so he presses one more soft kiss to the tender flesh before moving on. He nips and sucks at Castiel's bellybutton and Castiel's fingers struggle to find purchase in Dean's hair as he does it, and Dean can't help but smile against Castiel's stomach.
It doesn't bother him, not like it used to, when he starts to palm the Fallen angel through his slacks, tracing his fingers along the outline of a half hard cock. He teases with feather light touches until Castiel is whimpering, and Dean presses a kiss to the precum dampened head of it through the fabric before he sits back and starts working Castiel's belt. Slim hips arch up easily, because even human Castiel is still unnaturally bendy, and Dean tugs away the last of his clothes until Castiel is bare before him.
For a minute, Dean just takes in the sight of him, letting his fingers brush against Castiel's knees before trailing up the silky skin of his inner thighs. This is Castiel, and how the mighty have Fallen, Dean thinks. He is beautiful, skin flushed with want and need from his cheeks to his toes, his cock hard and leaking against his own stomach. This is Castiel, and this is what Dean has done to him.
First, he presses a gentle kiss against Castiel's knee, once, before he trails them up his thigh. The skin here feels weird under his lips, tender and covered in coarse hairs, but Castiel has never been touched here, not like this. His fingers tease and trace patterns, and Dean rests his forehead on Castiel's thigh for a minute and just breaths in the heady scent of him.
It's thick and dusky and intoxicating and something is burning in the back of Dean's eyes, making his throat quiver and setting a rocking motion in his stomach. He feels like he's going to be sick, like he's going to cry, maybe, because Castiel is being so fucking patient with him, even as he runs his fingers through Dean's hair with one hand and drums trembling fingers on his stomach with the other, fighting himself to not take his own cock in hand.
Breath quivering, Dean exhales once, long and slow, before looking up at Castiel. The Fallen angel's eyes are dark and hazy, but he flashes Dean a beautiful smile despite it. Part of Dean feels like he's just been given permission for something, but another part of him isn't even sure what he's just asked. Either way, Dean nips at Castiel's thigh once, hard enough his teeth leave an impression and Castiel gasps, but not hard enough to really hurt him.
There really isn't anywhere left for Dean to explore at this point, so he puts up hesitating and just licks a line up Castiel's cock from the base to the tip. Castiel bucks up under Dean, a keening cry escaping his lips, and Dean has to choke back a laugh. He's never done this for Castiel, even though Castiel has for him, so Dean figures that they're going to die tomorrow anyways he might as well return the favor.
He mouths the hard line of Castiel's cock, humming in the back of his throat as he leaves suckling kisses against the shaft. Castiel is moaning and whining, sounds Dean has never been able to draw out of him before, and Dean takes him time in getting to the part he knows the Fallen angel wants. When he does lap at the head, his tongue teasing the slit as he sucks it into his mouth, part of Dean is glad they've never done this before. It makes him feel like their end of the world comfort sex isn't so pathetic.
Dean feels like he's fifteen again and fumbling under a girl's skirts for the first time because he knows what to do with his mouth in theory, but in practice it's way more complicated than he imagined. For one, Castiel seems incapable of sitting still, arching up as much as he can until Dean manages to pin him with a forearm across his stomach. For another Dean never realized how much concentration it takes to suck and loll his tongue at the same time, never mind remembering to move the hand he has wrapped around the base of Castiel's cock. There are just too many new experiences for him to try and cope with them all at once.
For his part, Castiel just coos and whispers encouragingly, much like Dean remembers doing the first time he convinced the then angel to sink to his knees, his fingers skimming through Dean's hair and massaging the scalp.
And for a while, Dean tries. He gives it his best, and he's almost ashamed of how sloppy it is, precum and spit slipping down his chin and over his fist. Castiel whimpers at the loss when Dean finally pulls back, wiping his face and smiling shakily down at Castiel. He goes to wipe his hand on his jeans but pauses and thinks better of it, gently tugging Castiel closer towards him so he has a better angle for what he's about to do next.
Castiel is tight and hot and dry when Dean pushes his first finger into Castiel's hole, but his spit and Castiel's precum are easing the passage of it all. He takes his time easing it in all the way, and when he's satisfied and adds a second finger, twisting and curling them inside of Castiel, the Fallen angel pushes back against Dean's hand, moaning loudly, obscenely. Dean takes his time, teasing and stretching, and eventually two fingers becomes three, four, and it's only when Castiel is practically fucking himself open on Dean's hand does Dean wiggle free and pull back enough to undo his own jeans.
It doesn't occur that he's been neglecting himself in favor of showering Castiel in affection and pleasure, too busy giving the Fallen angel one good night to remember in the off chance there is an afterlife for them to go to but it's a relief when Dean manages to shimmy out of his jeans and his boxers and it takes the feeling of absence of restriction for Dean to realize just how painfully hard he is. He's amazed he's been able to ignore it, and he's surprised he doesn't come just from Castiel wrapping his hand around Dean's length, stroking and twisting like he's come to learn Dean likes.
It's Castiel who spits in his palm and slicks Dean up, and it's Castiel who tugs Dean forward by his biceps, until they're chest to chest and takes advantage of their closeness to guide Dean's aching cock to Castiel's entrance. He doesn't force it, though he does wiggle impatiently as he peppers Dean's cheek and jaw with kisses. He gives Dean a minute to catch his breath, and when Dean finally sinks into Castiel's tight warmth, they both groan pathetically, together.
There no way Castiel is comfortable with his upper back and head pressed against the door of the car, his lower body curled up tightly under Dean, legs wrapped around his waist as well as they can be in the cramped space, but he doesn't complain. He lets Dean sink into him as far as they can get like this, lets Dean half drape his heavy weight across Castiel's curled body while he nuzzles Dean's neck and purrs reassurances as they wait for the both of them to adjust.
When they do start moving, it's slow, shallow, but it still draws breathy moans out of Castiel. Dean buries his face in the Fallen angel's hair, inhaling the sharp, sweaty, oh-so human scent of him, and he can feel his eyes burn and his throat quiver again. This is the last time, he thinks, and he curls a hand into Castiel's hip tighter as he forces himself to thrust harder. This is the last time and it's so fucking anticlimactic it isn't even funny.
Dean knows he's not going to last long, despite, or maybe because of, the burning of his muscles as he strains to keep moving, to hold himself above Castiel and not crush him. He can hear Castiel's whimpers as he further contorts himself to wrap his arms around Dean's shoulders for a better angle to matching Dean's thrusts with, followed by breathy groans and broken whimpers.
Castiel's nails scratch and dig into Dean's shoulders, and he clenches tightly around Dean's cock when he comes, a bitten of scream escaping his lips before he thinks to stop himself, burying his face in Dean's neck as he lets out a choked sob. His come is hot against Dean's stomach, but it's the feeling of Castiel's toes fluttering between clenched and splayed against the back of Dean's thigh as he tries to regain control of himself that tips Dean over the edge. He doesn't know why it happens like that, but he can't bring himself to put any thought into it when he spills his own release inside of Castiel, breath trembling as he breathes into Castiel's hair.
"Dean," Castiel breathes, so lovingly. His sweat is making him stick to the leather interior of the car and Dean wishes one of them had the forethought to lay out a blanket or something, but it's too late now, so when Dean pulls out and shifts back on the seat, he just tugs Castiel down until his head is on the seat instead of the window.
It takes every ounce of self-control Dean has not to just collapse on top of him, but he sits back on the seat, forehead pressed against the window of the far door and lets Castiel throw his legs onto his lap. For a while, the two of them are just trying to catch their breathes and Dean is focusing so hard on not focusing on the fact he's going to die tomorrow, that he doesn't realize when Castiel sits up and presses a gentle kiss against his shoulder.
"Thank you, Dean," he says, resting his sweaty cheek against Dean's equally as sweaty shoulder. Their skin instantly sticks together, and Dean knows he should be grossed out but he's too exhausted to be.
"I thought this was for my benefit," Dean says, and he can feel Castiel huff a breath of laughter against his neck. He suddenly feels very exposed, but Castiel throws his legs over Dean's lap again, scooting closer, pinning him down and not letting him leave.
"I may be something of an opportunist," Castiel muses, craning his neck to press his lips against Dean's cheek. The idea of Castiel taking advantage of him like this is enough to make Dean scoff, laughing somewhat bitterly, but Castiel smiles and Dean suspects that was Castiel's plan the entire time.
"Thank you, Cas," Dean says softly, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss. There's more he wants to say, more he needs to thank Castiel for, but if the look the Fallen angel is giving him is anything to go by, Castiel already knows. So instead, Dean kisses him again and he pretends that the smile on Castiel's lips means everything is going to be okay.