Originally he thought that perhaps this was meant to happen. Perhaps feelings were meant to arise when a bond between a human and his angel grows so strong, he feels compelled to disobey orders, merely to keep them safe. But deep down he knew all along that there was something wrong about what he was feeling. But he couldn't stop feeling it, so he locked it away, with all of the other emotions that he found were overpowering his mind.
He found himself more and more drawn to the oddly fascinating, before primitive seeming human under his charge. He would watch over him as he slept, partially for his own protection, and partially for a side of Castiel which he decided that he was not going to confront, because he knew that what he was feeling was too powerful to quench. It was better to ignore the warmth seeping through his abdomen, and the red hot shivers running through his body when he brushed skin with Dean than to try to deny them because then, things would become far more complex.
He was seeping into decadence in the worst possible ways. He had heard stories, of those who had fallen to the earth to lie with human women, though never had he been able to understand what had called them down. Now though, he understood completely.
It was the emotion.
He had never felt pleasure before, not before that one night when Dean was so drunk he fell asleep on Castiel's lap, moving in his sleep and grasping with his hands for invisible foes. Once he had managed to calm the hunter down, Castiel held him on his lap, unsure of what to do, and unsure of himself. There was something so comforting about the presence of them both in such close proximity that he didn't want to break the contact.
His skin was so hot that night, and it sent the nerves in his arms twitching and burning, in the most pleasant of ways. The contact between them was clammy as Castiel began to sweat, urging himself to pull away, but not being quite able to. Dean, still asleep, did not make anything easier as he nestled his face into Castiel's crotch, murmuring something about whatever he was dreaming about. Inadvertantly, Cas felt his hips buck forwards, and he gasped quietly. Shocked, he looked down at the back of the eldest Winchester's head, amazed at the sudden feeling which he had caused.
It was something he had never felt before, and although he knew that it was wrong, he could not help himself but to continue. Experimentally, he raised his hips slightly up against Dean, who murmured in response. Collapsing back, breathing heavily, the angel let his head fall back, hitting the wall solidly. There was a tension in his body which he had never felt before, not as an angel. He was certain that it was sin which made him feel so good.
With one swift movement, Castiel pushed Dean off of his lap, with one arm dragging him to the motel bed and leaving him there, before rushing into the bathroom. Closing and locking the door, he stumbled to the sink, unused to the sudden dizziness that he was experiencing. It was like he was becoming more human every day, with more emotions. Turning the tap on with shaking hands, he splashed water in his face quickly, then continued to gaze at himself in the mirror, his eyes locking with his vessel's. He tried to focus; he really tried to focus but all that would come to his mind when he attempted to concentrate was the exquisite feeling of Dean's mouth, moving over the fabric of his pants and how much more pleasurable it would be to feel his lips on the flesh underneath.
Shifting uncomfortably, Castiel glanced down at himself, more specifically at the bulge in said pants. Quickly, he looked around himself, as though to check that no one else was there, although it couldn't have been possible that there was anyone. Sam was still at the coroner's office, Dean was passed out and everything else which was hunting him was kept away by his cloaking spells and his hexbags.
All the same, he knew that God was watching. He leaned forwards again, pressing his groin against the cold edge of the sink as if to oppress the feeling altogether. Closing his eyes, he imagined all of the things which he had loved in heaven, and all of the paradise which he had lived in, and hopefully would return to one day. He imagined that he was in Heaven's Garden, strolling under the wide banana leaves and the giant oaks. There was not another soul in sight, until suddenly, a figure stepped out from behind a tree.
Castiel's eyes snapped open, and he splashed more water on his face, although this did nothingn to satiate his insane urge to run his hands over his own body, the dreamlike construction of Dean envisioned in front of him, sitting on the rim of the sink. Whining, he pushed himself away, and climbed into the shower, curling up in one corner like a scared child, hiding from a monster.
God was watching.
But it was so unbearable! With every second, the pressure in his abdomen would grow, and the images of Dean were flashing free and unheeded now. It was too much to control at once, and Castiel stretched out his legs, so he was splayed across the tiled floor, half in the shower cubicle and half out. He let his hands, which were resting tensely on his head, fall to his sides, relaxing his body completey and being surprised at the relief that he was given by just doing so. Physical needs had never affected him before... he must be becoming more cut off than heaven than he had anticipated.
Blowing a sigh, Castiel stared at the ceiling, contemplatively.
He was certain that he could hear Dean's breathing, from the motel bed ten metres from where he lay, and he closed his eyes, concentrating on his sound and his sound alone. The physical reality of the sound, the closeness of it, compelled his hands to move on their own accord. Ghosting on hand across the bulge in his pants, he shut his eyes tighter, and his mouth dropped slightly ajar, a slight huff of air escaping.
Increasing the pressure, Castiel rubbed his hand along the outline of his dick, through the soft material of his slacks. He adjusted his position, and slowly unfastened his belt, not rushing. The urgency of his want was waning, but the want itself was taking him over. He could have fought it, had he wished, for it was just a human urge. He had fought them before, when he refused to cave in to his emotions. However, this was different. He wanted this. He wanted Dean.
Pulling his pants down to his knees, he encircled his cock with one hand, revelling in the freedom which he felt in doing so. A soft moan escaped his lips, as he slowly massaged his dick, gathering momentum as he did so, eyes still squeezed shut. He could almost feel Dean's mouth on him again, except this time he was far from asleep. He was kneeling in front of him, on the motel carpet, hands running all up his stomach and down his thighs, taking Castiel deep into his mouth; as deep as he could go.
Another groan left Castiel, and he writhed against the wall, squirming at the sudden glory that he felt in touching himself. Dean was still on his knees, one hand cupped around his buttock and the other massaging his balls, and there was something so delightfully human about him. The sexual gratification was mounting, but Castiel still had to let his emotions out of the box before he could find the release that he truly needed. He needed to buck up and open the door which would reveal everything which his controllers had worked so hard to oppress.
Almost without hestiation, Cas opened that door, and everything came flooding to him. The love and the anger and the frustration and the triumph and defeat that he had experienced over the past year swirled around in his head, clouding what little rational thought he had left. Dean just kept on sucking on his dick like it was the only thing he had ever wanted, and Castiel felt his sinful euphoria coming to a climax, and although he tried to keep his voice down, he couldn't. With a shout, he came violently over his hand and the door of the shower.
Leaning back, panting from the exertion and the relief from release, Castiel opened his eyes, returning back to the real world. His senses were heightened; he was still throbbing from his elation and he grinned widely at nothing in particular, remembering back to the imaginary moment when he shot into Dean's mouth, and the look of udiluted pleasure on the hunter's face.
He didn't care that God was watching anymore.