Dean knew hurt, knew it like the back of his hand. Its insides and outsides, the way it lanced through his heart at night.. the dull agony of it in the morning. Like he had been born just to feel its aches and pains. He knew the physical cuts and bruises it left behind after a long hunt. The mental scars it carved into his soul after having spent a life nearly abandoned by a deadbeat dad. Dean knew the burning ache of hurt when a brother chose a demon over his own fucking family and the loss of a mother who had been too beautiful, too important to die so young. Dean and hurt were good friends and they knew each other well. But that didn't make it any easier to explain.
Yeah. Being human fucking sucked. But he didn't know what it was like to not be human. To not feel that hurt every time he woke up to start another day. To not fear what lay around the next corner. Shit. He knew what it was like to be human too fucking much. But how could anyone explain to a fallen angel what it would be like to hurt too much to breathe? To lay waste to monsters without thinking just to avoid dealing with it at all? The pain and hurt of regret. To punch a wall instead of cry? At least of all him; a hunter who, on a good day, plastered on a smile just to face the day. Who, on a bad day, could barely look at himself in a mirror.
Who was he to tell Cas that being human was sometimes too hard to handle?
Dean couldn't even imagine what Cas was going through, didn't want to. He had too much of his own shit to deal with. But when the day settled down, when the adrenaline rush died down from the hunt, Dean was allowed to feel that hurt again and felt it every time Cas cried at night. Dean knew those cries too, knew them too well. They were filled with a self-loathing that could cripple demon-blood junkies. Cries that were so honest and so raw that they made Dean's soul ache. Self-loathing that was so deep and real that it echoed his own.
He didn't know how to help Cas so he didn't try. Not with words at least. Not with explanations on how to deal, on how to merely survive each day without adding more self-hatred on top of the mountain. He tried to show Cas how good it was to be human. The fulfillment of eating burger-and-fry combos. The feel of grit and oil under fingernails and the joy of hustling pool with bikers too drunk and too stupid to stand of their own two feet. Except for eating greasy burgers and fries, Cas had been fucking terrible at all of it, but he coped just long enough to face another day. Dean couldn't ask for much more.
Quietly, Dean slipped into the cheap motel bathroom. The air was hot and thick, steam clouding the room. Cas was there in the bath tub, naked, with shoulders hunched and head lowered. Even in the poor light, Dean could see the bruises and cuts all over his body, the result of the most recent job that had put all of them to the test. Fucking vampires. A nest of them. Starving, strong, and fucking ugly. Cas had been all but useless; a mismatched piece in an expert's game of chess. A fledgling hunter who had made rookie mistakes. He had been an inconvenience, but Dean couldn't blame him entirely. The ex-angel would need time to get used to his.. limitations. Now, he was like the rest of them; vulnerable, breakable.. human. Dean could see it now; the hurt of that truth on his face and in his body language. Tight lines drawn into a frown like he'd been thinking too hard and shoulders so slumped and defeated that it looked like he'd break under the weight of it all. Dean felt that hurt again when he saw Cas like this; lost, afraid and longing for a family and a home he'd never have again. It sounded all too goddamn familiar.
Dean began to peel off his clothes. Shirt first, pulled over his head with a little more difficulty than usual. Scratches and cuts covered his body and Dean winced in pain, grimacing while taking off his pants. Cas didn't say anything, didn't acknowledge his existence.. like he was lost in his own world of private grief. For once, Dean couldn't blame him. Saying nothing, Dean gingerly dipped a toe into the water and winced at how fucking hot it was. He couldn't bear to tell him that, no matter how hot the water, past sins and regrets couldn't be washed away.
With a quiet hiss, Dean fully stepped into the tub and slipped down behind Cas. Water splashed everywhere with the displacement, but Dean didn't give a shit. He stretched out his legs on either side of Cas and sighed, reveling in how the hot water felt on his sore muscles. It felt good. Peaceful here in the quiet room with nothing more than the sound of trickling water and Cas' breathing. He closed his eyes for a second in bliss before opening them again, visually tracing a line along all the tender spots of Cas' skin. Pale flesh that had been cut open by some bitch's pointy teeth and claws. Dean couldn't help but brush a finger against a damaged part of his skin, if only to get a reaction out of him. Cas shivered and turned his head slightly as if he had finally noticed Dean's presence, but he didn't do much more than that. Cas just sat there, still like a statue, his methodic breathing the only sign that he was alive. Goddamnit, it hurt to see him like this. But Dean would never say anything, didn't know how to say it even if he wanted to. He had never been good with words, but knew how to use his hands.
"Come on, Cas."
Dean wrapped his arms around him and pulled back, laying Cas flush against his chest. Cas didn't struggle and melted into him instead, softening his shoulders and easing his tense muscles. Cas felt good. Real good. The type of good that didn't come around often. Dean could lose himself here, next to him, and not have to feel the constant pain of everything else; the hunt, the broken family life, the whole fucking world. He didn't know what this was between them and didn't want to label it. Didn't know or care if it was just some physical need or some fucked-up, emotional co-dependency bullshit. All he knew was that Cas was good and Dean needed good in his life, even if it only lasted a couple of minutes. Right now? Dean could use a few minutes of good in the constant shit storm of bad.
Dean wasn't gentle in the way he voiced this need. His hands were greedy, sliding down the length of Cas' chest in a near heated frenzy, taking, taking and not once asking. He could feel Cas press into him, sigh like he needed the escape too, and whimper softly, accepting all the touching and grabbing that Dean unleashed on him. Cas always wanted more though and expressed it by angling his head back against Dean's shoulder, to stare into green eyes and then lips like he needed more meaningful contact. Dean knew what he wanted; for their lips to be locked together, passionately.. deeply. Dean disliked kissing like he disliked onions on his burger. Except kissing was worse—it was a commitment and a show of a deeper affection he wasn't really willing to give. To Dean, kissing meant attachment; a word that struck a fear into his heart like no monster could. The fear of attachment and then the painful loss that always followed.
Dean stared into those wide, pleading blue eyes. Cas was fishing for that declaration, that he meant more to Dean than just an easy lay. That Dean cared about him, maybe even loved him. Did he? Dean never came to a conclusion before he just gave in. Gave in because the answer was just too much for him to handle. He did it for Cas because the fallen angel had too much shit to deal with on his own without adding rejection on top of it. So he gave in, like always. Time after time.
When Dean leaned forward, Cas sprang to life, meeting him halfway in the middle to press their mouths together. Cas was all searching and needy with his tongue, forcing it past Dean's lips in a sloppy mess. Dean could only respond with a slackened jaw, a permittance into his mouth so that Cas' tongue could roam freely. Dean swallowed down Cas' whimper, equaled its intensity with a groan deeper and more raw than he would have liked. As if to make up for giving in at all, Dean kissed him hard, bruisingly, making Cas shudder with the pain when he sucked and bit his lip. It was like he was starved.. and who was to say he wasn't? Starving for—Dean didn't even know. Something more than just a fuck? Love? To feel like he mattered? That he was more than just a fuck up; a hunter who had let people die. A man who had let countless of people down.
Dean drowned all of his guilt in that kiss. A mutual thing that had turned.. a little too real. Too meaningful; something that scared him shitless. He ignored the flash of fear and crept his fingertips secretly up Cas neck, to grab and pull harshly at hair. Cas made a noise somewhere between pain and pleasure; a subtle precursor to the devious little way he rolled his hips. The motion made a direct impact on Dean's dick, made it stand straight up like the perfect soldier it was. The soft skin against his own, the pressure—God.. Dean growled with how good it felt and kissed Cas even harder. His hands seemed to wander on their own accord, grabbing at Cas' hips and jerking them back just to get more friction. The constant wiggling and teasing was right there, on his dick and sent sparks up and long his body. Goddamnit. Who knew an ex-angel could be such a fucking little whore..
Dean abandoned those hips for thighs, tracing his fingertips along the submerged skin. They were still lip-locked, sharing and searching with tongues. Cas nipped at his lip and Dean gripped at one of his thighs, undoubtedly marking him with a bruise that would last a week on his fragile skin. His other hand moved inward, to the meat of the upper thigh, to the cock that was hard and ready for him. When Dean ran an explorative hand over it, Cas stopped kissing him to open his mouth in a way that communicated how blissed out he was. And the sound that came out of it.. innocent and dirty at the same time. Not quite a gasp, not a groan either. Whatever it had been—the shudder of a breath or the sound of complete surrender—Cas was completely fucking lost in this.. and it was the most beautiful thing Dean had ever heard.
It didn't stop there. Cas made these constant, low-octave noises that drove Dean crazy every time he touched him. The groan that came out of his throat when Dean gripped his cock; deep and rich like dark tobacco… fuck. Dean broke their heated kiss in order to breathe, to shoot out a groan of his own. It encouraged Cas to press back against him, grinding harder, quicker. Dean blew a hard breath against his neck, kissing there while fucking Cas with his hand. The way Cas writhed, begging with his whole body.. Dean groaned and grazed teeth along Cas' ear, earning him a gasp. Everything was telling him to blow his load right then and there. But he couldn't. Dean wanted to prolong this as much as he could.
Against everything he wanted, Dean slipped his hand free from Cas' cock. The whine the fallen angel emitted was almost sweet, endearing.. a little pathetic. Dean chased it away with another nip at his ear, cupped his balls with a greedy hand. Cas shuddered against him and groaned, arching his back and stretching out long.. as if the pleasure of it all had truly broken him. And maybe that was Dean's intention.. to break him. To hurt and mark him. To bring him pain, punish him. To teach him a lesson for getting involved with such.. a fucking failure. Dean swallowed the self-hatred down and concentrated on this moment; the heat of it, how.. simple it seemed to be. Just fucking.. that was all it was. Simple.
Dean teased Cas' tight hole with the tip of his finger, sticking it in just enough to watch Cas squirm. Cas desperately tried to lower his hips down on it, growling in frustration when Dean continued to tease. Dean watched Cas bite the bottom of his lip, watched his frustration build and build until he abandoned all inhibition. With a ferocity that seemed to constantly boil under his skin, Cas grabbed at Dean's hand, forcing the finger deep inside of him. They shared a grown together and bled into each other's space while Cas set the rhythm. It was a gorgeous sight; this newly-fallen angel splayed out against him, thighs wide and balls-deep in pleasure and sin and everything else that made being a human worth it. Dean pressed his nose into Cas' neck and watched the undulation of his body. The ripple of his sleek muscles, the way he was fucking himself toward oblivion. They moved together seamlessly, perfectly, and something hot and profound began to build in Dean's balls. Cas let out another deep groan, a frustrated whine and then..
"Fuck me with your cock.."
Dean flinched as if he had been punched in the face. The words were so foreign, so unlike the angel he once knew. And the way he had said them.. ripe with need, growled out and heated—it was all.. too human. Just more evidence that Dean had.. tainted him. Corrupted the purity that Dean always wanted to believe in. Just another way that Dean had broken him. Cas was no longer the angel who didn't get Dean's references. No longer the naïve angel whose subtle, quiet strength had always been a comfort. Now, he was the hulled out shell of what he once was. Just like the rest of them. Broken and helpless because the dumb son of a bitch had gotten attached to him. It was as if the world couldn't resist tempting Dean with another pretty thing to destroy.
"No."
His sharp answer cut the heated air between them, left it cold. The change in Cas was immediate. From the perfect state of a man being fucked to a vengeful, wrathful—With a growl, frustrated as it was angry, Cas reached back to grab at him, closing tight fingers around balls. Instantly, the pressure made Dean feel like he was going to throw up. The little fucker couldn't do much else before Dean jerked his hand away. And his anger.. oh shit. The anger in his gut fueled Dean past the haze of sex, to the clarity of mission and purpose. Quickly, Dean reached up to grab at Cas' chin, wrenching it back forcefully, harshly, with a yelp of pain from Cas. He ended up flush against Dean, head angled back against his shoulder, with chest heaving and breathless. The rush of excitement was palpable, the return of control thrilling.. Dean breathed hard against his ear, a hiss of words making his disapproval known.
"Don't.. do that again."
Cas groaned with the correction, tilted his hips back and rolled them enticingly. Dean knew immediately what this was; an apology, a temptation. Cas' bright hot desire was in the startling blue of his eyes, made even more intense by Dean's show of dominance. His dick twitched with Cas' submission.
"You like it when I hurt you, don't you?"
"Yes."
The answer was breathless, thick with lust. It took two seconds for his dick to snap to attention again and Cas took to apologizing with renewed vigor. Dean couldn't resist the grinding, the roundness of Cas' ass against his cock. He pinched Cas' chin with hard fingers, bruising him, and pulled him in. The kiss was brutal, harsh.. devastating. Dean could barely breathe beneath its intensity and abandoned it seconds later with abused lips. He soothed the discomfort with soft skin, kissing and biting at Cas' neck while losing himself in the friction. When Cas inched back impossibly close and swiveled his hips, Dean jerked his forward, grabbing at the pressure. He snaked a hand forward to fuck Cas with his fist, drawing out desperate moans from his throat. His own orgasm was building quickly, steadily, just there.. The grinding, the fist-fucking.. It was a frenzy of need, of frustration aimed at the world and desperation for each other.
Dean bit Cas' shoulder hard when his orgasm breached his conscious, the feeling of it slamming into him and overtaking every nerve ending in his body. Through the mind-blowing sensation, Dean could feel Cas tremble and shudder beneath him, his thighs quaking. And then he heard it.. the way Cas moaned loudly, thickly like his whole world had shattered. Dean knew then that he had come, knew that Cas had experienced what it was like to be human. To need, to feel.. to hurt.
Yeah. Dean could teach him a few things about hurting. He knew it like the back of his hand.