The priest collar feels tight around Dean's neck. He reaches a finger up and tugs it discreetly, but it still feels uncomfortable. He sighs. Sam, who is standing at the altar turning the pages of the Holy Bible, gives him a sympathetic look as he settles on the passages of Luke as the basis for this morning's sermon.
Before Castiel raised Dean from perdition the very idea of angels was laughable, let alone the existence of God. But Sam's different: he's always believed, always had faith. Dean's teased him for that but he admires the way Sam can be so certain in the face of such uncertain time.
Getting ahold of the priest costumes again had been relatively easy. The local costume shop had had them in stock, and they'd managed to buy them even though the shop attendant had looked at them weirdly. Dean suspected that the shop attendant would have a heart attack if he had known that they were planning to impersonate priests. Well, if they didn't act soon and figure out what was killing the townspeople, the guy would be dead anyway.
Dean glances at his watch. 10:20. People start filing through the wooden doors, and Dean smiles and nods in acknowledgment as they take their seats in the pews. He glances up at Sam, who gives him a tight nod and clears his throat. People listen attentively, and the rustling of programs ceases.
"I'd like to welcome everybody here on the most holy of days, in the name of our Father, who leads from temptation into paradise..."
Dean drifts off as Sam continues speaking. As he glances around, he has to suppress a smirk at the way some of the younger girls and women are looking at Sam, hanging on his every word.
Thinking impure thoughts in the house of the Lord, no doubt, and Dean shakes his head as a smile crosses his face.
"In the name of the holy Father. Amen," Sam concludes. There is a great shuffling of paper and clothing as the congregation stands and mingles with one another.
A girl no older than fifteen walks up to Sam and says, "Great sermon today, Father," as she brushes her fingers across his arm, clasping his hand and flicking her hair.
"Erm...Thank you," Sam replies.
She glances back at him, blushing slightly, as she makes her way back to her parents.
"Yeah, you did great today Father," Dean says next, "Very riveting. Plus you know, I think she has a bit of a thing for you." Dean smirks as Sam jumps a little.
"Shut up, Dean," he hisses.
Dean smirk widens as he claps a hand on Sam's shoulder, and he goes to talk to some of the townspeople. People mill around, occasionally throwing glances at Sam or Dean, smiling as sunlight streams through the stained glass windows.
Dean walks over to Sam again after a while, saying, "Hey, seen anything unusual so far?" He has to resist the urge not to reach up and adjust the collar again. He'd forgotten how itchy the things could get.
"Nope, nothing," Sam replies. He looks at his watch, then at Dean, then back at his watch again.
Dean studies Sam for a second, and then it clicks. He groans. Sam's mouth turns up a little.
"C'mon Dean. I did it last week," Sam says, his smile widening, "It is your duty as a priest to hear confession, Father."
Dean growls low in his throat, "Alright, alright." Then he lowers his voice to add, "Bitch."
Sam smiles again. "Jerk," he replies.
Dean is doing this for the sake of the case, but he thinks the whole confession thing is far from necessary. He shakes his head as he makes his way into the booth. Everybody has those urge. You see somebody attractive, they make you hot, you either get them or you get yourself off, simple. Dean closes his eyes and waits.
He hears the panel on the other side slide open, and then a female voice says, "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been a week since my last confession."
He sighs and plays the part. "Tell me your sins, my child."
Ten minutes later it's all he can do not to shake his head in disbelief, not because she's told him anything particularly shocking, but because he is amazed that someone can consider wanting their partner, especially one that they were married to, to be a bad thing.
If he had ever had the chance to marry Lisa, let her know just how much he loved her... He pushes the thoughts away, returns to the present. "That is all, Father," the woman is saying.
He sighs again, inwardly, before speaking. "Very well my child. Say ten Hail Marys and five Our Fathers, and go in peace." The door on the other side of the booth clicks open.
Nearly forty five minutes later, when his ass is getting sore and he thinks that if he hears one more person say how they consider lustful thoughts to be sinful he's going to start telling people exactly what he's been imagining an angel of the Lord doing to him, and he isn't going to spare the graphic details, the panel sides open again. He rubs a hand across his face, hoping this is the last one for the day. He isn't sure he can handle another.
The person on the other side shifts on the bench uncertainly. Dean waits. The person clears their throat and says, "Bless me Father for I have sinned. It's been...a while since my last confession."
Dean swallows hard. That voice, rough and deep... it can't be. But it is, and Dean's cock gives an interested twitch beneath his robes. He knows he shouldn't say it, shouldn't say his name, but he can't help himself.
"Cas?"
A pause, and even though he can't see it he has the distinct impression the angel is smirking at him. He takes a minute to compose himself, and when he speaks he tries to play his part, because he wants to know, needs to know. "Tell me your sins my child." He closes his eyes. He's going to regret this, but he doesn't care.
Another pause, then, "I've lusted...over a man. Had impure thoughts..."
Dean swallows again. "W-what kind of thoughts?" Dean manages, hating how his voice is already shaking. He hears a muffled thump on the other side, as something - he presumes it to be the trench coat - falls to the ground.
"I've thought about what I want him to do to me, how he would run his hands down my spine, spread me wide, as he works a finger inside, then another, talking filth, until I begged for his cock..."
Dean's cock hardens under his robes, and he needs to touch so badly. "What else?" The words come out rough and he waits holding his breath. He hears a sigh and then the sound of the metal teeth of a zipper sliding apart. Dean presses a hand to himself, unable to stifle the groan that slips out. "Fuck, Cas!"
The thought of angel getting off in a confessional, knowing that Dean is the source of that lust, is just too hot, damn it all to Hell. Dean doesn't stop to think about the irony of those words. All he cares about is...
He moans again when he hears the angel sigh his name, "Dean."
He unbuttons the black dress slacks, pushing his briefs over his hips as he takes himself in hand. He hisses, "Shit," and he's ashamed of the way he almost whines, "Tell me!"
The angel lets out a long moan "Would let you fuck me so hard, Dean." Each word is almost breathless. "Think about your cock in my ass."
Dean moans louder, not caring if anybody can hear them, speeding his thrusts up as he twists at the head of his cock, biting down on his lip. "Yeah Cas, come on..."
He hears the angel's breath hitch. "Imagined you saying..." and he groans.
The sound Dean makes is more animal than human, filled with lust. "Say what, Cas?"
The angel's breath hitches again as the words come fast, "That I was a filthy cockslut, a good whore, fuck, Dean, needed..."
The thought of the angel thinking such filthy things goes straight to his cock. He's not going to last much longer. "Cas, that what you needed? Going to come for me, angel boy?"
Dean's vision is clouding over, his whole body shaking, as Castiel begs, "Please Dean..."
Dean growls again, "Come," and Castiel does, moaning, "Dean, Dean, oh God!"
At the sound of the angel saying his name Dean's own orgasm hits him, his head going back against the wood as he comes over his hand, hard. Through the post orgasmic haze he hears the fluttering of wings and grins. He looks down at himself. Come covers his pants and the confessional floor. He leans back against the wood again.
When he walks out, Sam stares first at him, then at the come-stained priest costume, putting two and two together. He shakes his head and raises an eyebrow as if to say, "Just how are we supposed to return this?"
Dean smirks.
"You're going to hell, Dean," Sam says flatly.
Dean smirks again. It's true, but he knows there is an angel more than willing to give him absolution.