AUTHOR'S NOTES: This fic was inspired by a recent dream that I had! *shimmies* I wish I had more Dean/Castiel dreams ....
Castiel trekked through the woods after Dean, branches, stray upraised roots snagging at the hems of his tan trenchcoat, threatening to drag him to the floor if he didn't pay due care and attention to where he walked. His eyes checked for Dean's whereabouts, found him slightly ahead, dark clothed body almost lost in the night soaked trees; the only telltale sign of the hunter's whereabouts was the odd mutter and murmur as he talked quietly on the phone to Sam, to Bobby, quite frequently both at the same time.
His voice was urgent, demanding directions each time the pair took a wrong turning, cursing every time that he fell over a snarling, snagging tree root hidden well between clumps of thick grass. Castiel came to his side every time, helped him to his feet and received Dean's words, his looks of thanks each time silently, stoically, giving help when needed without question, because Dean needed it.
It wasn't lost on Dean; Castiel's actions, his help were always another marker towards their relationship, strengthening it, something to be grateful for instead of shunning it, as he would other's help. Castiel, in turn, knew this, knew he would accept Dean's help should he need it when he'd be dubious of other's help in turn. In many ways, all they each had was each other, and that was enough for the both of them.
He continued to follow after Dean, thinking over Sam's earlier words of their close relationship, that seemed to exclude all others at times, even Sam and he was Dean's brother. Strangely, Sam hadn't seemed jealous, threatened or even angry; he'd merely seemed to be making an observation on a fact, and neither Dean nor Castiel could think of a worthy reply to him, other than for Dean to tell his brother to - shut the hell up, bitch. Then Dean had exchanged looks with Castiel, fingers brushing together as they reached for one another as though seeking support, hands grasping together in gentle love and mutual respect.
Sam had thankfully left the situation as it stood, smiling in pride at the lovers, knew that even though Dean wasn't able to say the words aloud, his love was apparent in his eyes, with every move he made. He made to open his mouth, to comment, shook his head decisively, before returning once more to the matter at hand - the witch. Every night she'd risen from her grave, incomplete, rotting, yet determined to regain her lost youth and vitality, by murdering young and innocent victims, taking pieces of their still living, yet rapidly cooling flesh to attach to her own frame, to replace pieces of her body as and when she needed them.
It had been going on for a week before the Winchesters, Bobby and Castiel had gotten wind of it; a whole week of murders, unexpected, unexplained deaths of otherwise healthy youths in the prime of their natural lives, pieces of their bodies gone, lost, irretrievable. A nose here, an ear there, an eye from someone else, gradually building up to whole limbs; a hand, a foot, a leg, an arm. The grisly murder spree didn't seem ready to stop and the townsfolk were getting desperate, understandably.
Bobby had first alerted them to the problem, voting to stay behind at the motel room once they'd arrived in town and ascertained the witch's grave was hidden deep in the woods, deeming himself too much of a burden in his wheelchair to accompany them. Sam had voted to stay with him, leaving Castiel alone with his brother and sending directions over the phone whenever Dean needed them.
Finally their trek through the woods seemed to come to an end, for Dean's hand rose in a pale glimmer, stopping the angel in his tracks as the hunter pointed down at their feet sharply. Castiel nodded his understanding, cast his intense gaze around them, peering into bushes, through the trees, alert for prying eyes, disturbances, altercations but coming up short on all fronts.
Dean finally clicked off his cellphone, before casting his glance at their feet, at the strangely bare patch of mud that no grass, no flowers seemed willing to grow upon.
"We're here," Dean announced, unnecessarily. "We've found the grave. Are you sure you know what to do?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, gruff voice intense, turned darker with emotions Dean couldn't begin to understand but would probably have been nervousness, apprehension if Castiel were human.
"Good," Dean said. "I don't wanna screw things up now; too many things are at stake."
"I know, Dean," Castiel replied, voice expressionless now, devoid of any emotion at all.
Dean glanced at the angel standing beside him, saw Castiel's gaze resting on him, eyes intense, unreadable, yet all knowing, wise, tender and Dean smiled.
"We make a good team, Cas," the hunter observed, when Castiel looked askance at him, questioning with one glance why Dean was smiling.
"Yes, we do," Castiel agreed, mouth curling at the corners in his usual, mysterious, almost there smile. "We should do this more often."
Dean's grin grew broader and he nodded.
"We should," he agreed. "I feel safer with you around."
Castiel grinned properly at that, teeth catching the light unexpectedly, eyes crinkling at the corners the same way Jimmy's did when he'd smiled. Dean reached out, cupped Castiel's face with one hand, smiled when the angel leant into his touch, mouth pressed against his palm with tickling, butterfly kisses. Dean leant it, claimed the angel's mouth, murmured with satisfaction when Castiel responded willingly, before reluctantly pulling away, mouths a few inches apart, breath huffing out in small, mingled gasps as they hovered close to one another.
"We've got a job to do, Dean," Castiel reminded him, regret clear in his voice, eyes blinking hugely at Dean.
"Yeah," Dean replied, still not moving.
"There's always later," the angel said, a promise clear in his voice, making Dean smile.
"Yeah," Dean repeated again, his voice warmer now. "You got the knife?"
"Yes, Dean," Castiel replied, simply, watching as Dean pulled away, warmth from his body no longer flooding his own and the angel missed the contact.
Castiel handed Dean the knife, fingers lingering against Dean's hand, sending quicksilver shivers of gentle desire through the hunter's body. The angel saw the look of distraction in Dean's gaze, the internal struggle apparent in his eyes as though Dean was trying not to lean in and kiss Castiel, to do something more to him, with him than just merely exchange kisses.
Dean cleared his throat but when he spoke his voice was still gruff, still indicating his desire, his need, his want, and Castiel smiled wistfully, wished that there was more time to fulfil the desires coursing through Dean's body, that were coursing through Castiel's own.
"So tell me again why I have to bleed out on the grave, Cas?" the hunter asked, as though physically reminding himself that there was more to the current situation than wanting to grope his boyfriend.
"My blood is sullied, Dean," Castiel replied, not minding explaining again, needing the distraction himself to clear his own mind of his own needs, wants, desires. "It's neither angelic, nor human, just a mix of both. My blood, my essence is linked to Jimmy's now, is no longer purely angelic."
Dean couldn't help but notice the wince that tightened the skin around Castiel's eyes, and knew that it wasn't because he was disgusted by being tainted by Jimmy - more the effect of being tied to a human vessel, barred from heaven and being a true angel that was bothering him. Dean reached out, touched Castiel's shoulder, stroked his fingers down his lover's arm, before wrapping supportive fingers wordlessly around the angel's palm.
Castiel smiled at him, squeezed Dean's fingers in thanks before continuing to speak to Dean, voice stronger, more resilient and business like, making Dean smile proudly at him.
"Your blood is pure, wholly human, clean and that's what we need to cleanse the grave," the angel said, fingers still gripping Dean's hand, stroking now against sensitive skin and tickling Dean's palm.
Dean nodded wordlessly, before pulling the shovel away from his pack slung over his shoulder and started to dig. Castiel helped when he could, transporting large mounds and clods of mud whenever necessary with a flick of his wrist and a blink, watched while Dean finally reached the witch's body, half formed from fresh new pieces. Dean scattered handfuls of rock salt on her body, poured lighter fuel next over her, before he climbed out, flicked a lit match onto her still sleeping body.
Next, he silently took Castiel's knife when the angel handed it to him, before baring his forearm, rolling the sleeve of his jacket back and exposing the soft, clean, as yet unmarked skin to the night breezes. Castiel watched him, lips parted, gaze intent as Dean steeled himself, pressed the blade of the knife against his forearm, before slicing through layers of skin in one steady swoop, blood welling to the surface and dribbling over skin pale in comparison to the darkness of the blood itself.
Castiel's eyes flickered up to meet Dean's, gave him a reassuring nod, before the hunter positioned himself over the grave, flicking droplets of his own blood over the mud, the leaves, the sullied ground as Castiel chanted gruffly, slicing the air into pieces with magickal words and chants.
Dean could feel the ground starting to shake beneath their feet, could feel unsteadiness work through his legs, but tried to stand firm as across from him, Castiel struggled to stay upright himself, wings unfurling with a sharp snap to further steady himself. They remained firm, steadfast, grim, until the angel had finished his chant, and Dean relaxed, wiping at the remnants of blood with the flat of his hand in disgust. The world was strangely quiet, too quiet, the ground no longer moving beneath their feet, before a loud crack split the air, thunderous in loud intensity, made both Dean and Castiel cover their ears, faces grimacing beneath the loudness and the noise.
A burst of power, of light blossomed from the grave, rolled out over the ground, through the trees, rocketed up towards the sky in eddying waves, knocking Dean and Castiel to the ground, and the wind from their lungs as they struggled to breathe freely. Dean lay blinking up at the stars hanging in clear spots above his body, wondered how many were up there looking down on him from the sky, wondered how many constellations were guiding him on his life's path right now.
He could still feel the effect of the magic coursing through his veins, settling in his gut and making his body react, stiffening his dick and making him feel strangely horny. It seemed as though the burst of power had an adverse effect on him, heightened his senses, strengthened his desire for his lover until the need became almost unbearable. He thought of Castiel, and moaned loudly at the memory of the angel's face, erection growing harder still to the point of aching and insistent for release.
"Dean, you okay?" Castiel asked, gruff voice sounding hoarser, more strained in the darkness.
"No," Dean replied, truthfully. "You?"
"No," Castiel echoed, as the sounds of a shifting body announced the fact that Castiel was trying to sit up at least.
Dean didn't feel ready to do that just yet, just wanted to lay there for a while longer, needed to feel the weight of Castiel covering him, the feel of Castiel moving inside him ...
"Dean," Castiel said, as he sat beside him, fingers lightly skimming over the hunter's hand, easing between his arm and the tight confines of his leather jacket. "Dean, I feel - "
His voice trailed off, as though he felt uncomfortable admitting to how he truly felt, yet when Dean turned to look up into his lover's eyes, he could see that he was feeling the same way he was, only worse, more defined, clearer, sharper, looking more focussed and determined in his horniness.
"Me, too," Dean said, quietly, settled his legs wider, saw Castiel's eyes grow wider at the sight of the hunter's erection pressing up against the confines of his suddenly too tight jeans.
The hunter watched as Castiel swallowed against a dry throat, breath gasping, wheezing past a constricted throat at the sight of Dean as ready as he was. He moved, shifted against the leaves scattered beneath his body, before he ghosted over to Dean, cutting out the need for crawling by unleashing his usual methods of angelic teleportation.
Dean reached out, eased Castiel's coat from responsive shoulders, tongue licking at his lower lip in arousal at the sight of Castiel partially undressed. The angel eased away from Dean's questing hands, pushed his suit jacket away from his slender shoulders, swiftly followed by his tie, his shirt, his pants. His skin was pale, silken smooth in the glow of the moonlight shining down upon them, in direct pale contrast to the darkness of his black boxers. He looked fragile in the light, smaller somehow, borrowing much of Jimmy's human fragility in that instant and making Dean's heart ache for him.
He swiftly undressed, clothes piling on top of Castiel's, eagerness tightening his body and infusing every movement he made, with the need to feel Castiel inside him, Castiel riding him and making him feel good. He watched as Castiel ghosted towards him once more, reminding the hunter that for all his seeming human fragility, this was not a true human he was looking at, sleeping with, loved. This was an angel trapped in a human body, willing to spend time with him, to make love to him, to love him unconditionally.
Dean felt Castiel's weight bearing down on him, as comforting as he imagined, yet always a pleasant surprise against his skin; warm, soft, inviting, velvet silky sweatiness sliding effortlessly against him. He shuddered, shifted beneath Castiel, tried to get more comfortable, felt a tree-root stick and dig into his back, making him wince.
Castiel noticed, dropped a kiss to Dean's firm lips, before he encouraged Dean to sit slightly, pulling the offending root away from his lover's body, before pushing Dean back to the leaf strewn floor once more. Dean smiled gratefully at him, eyes drifting lazily closed as the angel leant in, nibbled gently at his earlobe, teeth firm against yielding skin.
Dean's hands cupped Castiel's ass, fingers clenching against sensitive skin as the angel settled in closer still, bodies fitting seamlessly together in a seemingly continuous line. He felt Dean angle his legs wider still, tucking his ankles around the angel's thighs inviting him in still further. Castiel purred in triumphant satisfaction, lips gentle against Dean's neck as he kissed the sensitive skin, traced fine lines over Dean's Adam's apple with lips and tongue, inhaling the musky, spicy fragrance of the hunter that was exclusive only to him.
Dean's fingers dug and twisted against Castiel's tender ass, pushed against him until the angel started moving his hips slowly against Dean's, building up friction until they both were moving sinuously in time, breathy gasps and moans breaking the air between them, sounding obscene yet aroused, tender yet crazed in growing intensity.
Dean canted his hips higher, legs wider, pleaded with Castiel to fuck him, to take him hard and fast and Castiel smiled, eyes glinting in the light of the moon as he stared down at his lover. He nodded silently, before he spat on his own hand, spat again, knowing that there was no lube ready to hand for either of them.
He reached between their chilled, yet sweating bodies, stroked slender fingers across Dean's tightly muscled hole, made the hunter shout out an aroused - yes - before easing into Dean's hole, waiting for his lover to relax around him before working on him, loosening him, widening him, stretching him still further until he was satisfied that Dean was loose enough to take him.
Dean turned shining green eyes onto him, mouth slack, breath gasping against suddenly too thin air as the angel eased saliva over his own dick quickly, grunts of barely repressed arousal leaking past pouting angelic lips, Castiel's blue eyes turned dark with lust, pupils blown and dilated into shadows of themselves, lending Castiel an almost demonic cast. Dean moaned when he felt Castiel settle out over him, smooth body fitting against his in easy lines as the angel covered Dean's body with his own.
Dean felt Castiel ease his dick into him slowly, thick shaft pressing into him and filling him up inch by slow, painful inch. Dean smiled reassuringly up at his lover when Castiel stopped halfway in, waiting for the press and burn of Dean's near rejection to ease and fall away, leaving the way open for Castiel to press further in. Castiel murmured, moaned, cried out when he was finally fully sheathed inside Dean's tight channel, snug and warm against his super heated flesh.
He waited, forehead leaning against Dean's shoulder, palm of his left hand supporting his weight against the mud beneath the hunter's back, before he suddenly started to move inside Dean, thrusting into him slowly at first, jerking Dean against the leaves beneath them with the force of his thrusts. His rhythm smoothed out, became less erratic and Dean's hips rose and fell in time with the angel's, purls of encouragement mewling in Dean's throat.
Castiel started to fuck into him harder, hips thrusting in long, hard strokes into Dean, groans of exertion ripping from his throat mingled with aroused cries of pleasure. His pace changed, became more urgent, harder, faster, hips pounding against Dean's as he struggled not to come too early, wanting the pleasure to last a little longer.
Dean's cries grew louder, higher, more insistent, jerking with the force of Castiel's punishing rhythm, body shuddering beneath the pounding it was taking from Castiel. He reached between their bodies, fingers wrapping around his dick eagerly and he started jerking off, wrist snapping against his dick in a hard and fast rhythm, and he didn't, couldn't last long, beneath the combined efforts of his own hand and Castiel's thrusting cock inside him.
He came with a wail of Castiel's name, spunk filling his hand and spilling out onto Castiel's smooth abdomen, smearing across sweaty skin in thick strands. Dean's body kept jerking beneath Castiel's, hips pounded by the angel's as Castiel finally climaxed, hot come filling Dean in thick spurts and marking him up as his.
Slowly their bodies slowed, stilled, left them weak, helpless, gasping for breath and much needed air, lips meeting and parting in noisy kisses, tongues meeting in mid air and filling each other's mouths with familiar, heavy weight. Dean moaned Castiel's name once more, tone needy, tender, hands grappling with soft skin, as they continued to exchange soft, noisy kisses, declarations of love uttered anew beneath soft starlight.
They remained that way, bodies entwined, hands pawing and grappling, lips locked tight together until the familiar ring tone of Dean's cell broke the air, went ignored for the time being, until the ringing stopped. The hunter relaxed against Castiel's body once more, mouths still locked in a tight kiss - until the phone started ringing again. Dean picked up the second time, strident tones breaking his concentration, disturbing his kisses with Castiel.
It was Sam wondering how they'd gotten on, curious as to what had stopped Dean from answering the first time. Dean didn't have a ready answer, other than to say that they'd been successful with the grave was too distracted by Castiel's quick, kitten kisses pecking at his cheeks and mouth, lips meeting and parting noisily and giving Sam a good idea as to what they'd been doing in the meantime. The younger Winchester chuckled and soon hung up, leaving the two lovers to themselves and their activities for a while longer ....
-fini-