I wouldn't exactly call it shame, but I ain't exactly proud of myself either. I shouldn't have jumped him like that, I know. I could've been more…what's it?—diplomatic or something, about the whole thing. I could've talked to him, explained how I was feeling, given him the chance to say no if he wanted, or say yes or tell me to go to hell. Not that Cas would ever tell anyone to go to hell, but still. I should have fucking just said something. No idea what, but I should have… But I didn't. I called him and he came and he landed too close and I couldn't help it. I saw him and I wanted him and my hand grabbed that stupid trench coat and my mouth found his and I figured that all that rage I'd been feeling was somehow Cas' fault and that kissing him would make it go away so I could breathe again. Funny. I hadn't really thought much about this; I'd been steadily avoiding thinking about this, actually, but if I had ever pictured it, I would have been a little more smooth. I wouldn't have just hauled him to me and attacked him. But that's what I did. I just grabbed him and kissed him.

It was a few seconds before Cas started kissing me back and I was starting to panic but then his hands slid confidently under my shirt, pressing our bodies together and then our mouths were moving together and then sweet Jesus, I was flying. We were moving like we'd been doing it for centuries but at the same time it was this completely new experience that I couldn't wait to do again and again and again.

Part of me knew this was a really fucking bad idea, but I couldn't stop myself, I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop my hands from pushing the coat off Cas' shoulders and threading through his hair. I couldn't stop my teeth from biting Cas' lip, couldn't stop the heat that ran through me at the sounds Cas was making. I don't know how long we stood there like that, pressed together; a nuclear war could have broken out in the next room over and it wouldn't have distracted me from the scrape of his fingernails down my back or the roughness of his stubble under my thumbs.

I can't begin to know how long that first kiss lasted, but I do know what the skin on Cas' throat tastes like, how the skin on his back feels. I know exactly what my name sounds like, ground out over gravel and honey, sandwiched between the sweetest moans I've ever heard. I know that when we finally broke apart, the look in his eyes could have set the world on fire. I know that there aren't many things I've seen that can compare to the sight of Cas methodically pulling off first his own clothing, then mine. I know there's nothing that can compare to the feel of his bare skin against mine or the sound of him sighing as he settles in next to me to lie with me while I sleep.

I know I should have given him a choice, should have asked permission. I know that. But as his breath, as even as a clock's ticking, ghosts over my collarbones, as his soft, dark hair tickles my chin, I really can't bring myself to regret just fucking doing it. I never would have found the right words anyway. Cas is next to me, not talking, warmer than anything, tracing patterns on my stomach with long, lazy fingers. I have what I wanted... What...what I wanted. Dammit.

"Cas?" I feel his head shift and I smile because I know he's trying to look at me without having to move too much. "Is this…" I gesture vaguely with the hand that's not currently playing with his hair. "Is this okay?" He relaxes, melting back into me, snaking an arm across my hips, pulling me just a little closer. I bring my hand down to smooth over his arm, to revel again in the absolute warmth that is Castiel.

"Yes, Dean," he says and I swear I can hear a smile in his voice, that bastard. "This is 'okay.'" I feel his fingers twitch against my hips and I laugh a little. He's right. Okay isn't the right word for this at all. Okay is just...okay. This? This is perfect.