A/N: It's been a while. (See my profile for an extended excuse for that.) This is my first Destiel fanfic published, though it is sort of an extension of one that I'm working on right now which is approaching sixty pages already. I'll get it typed and update when I post it. Please read and review kindly. ^_^

Disclaimer: I do not own Supernatural. I wouldn't know what to do with all that pain if I did. Certainly this. Always this.

Warning: This fic is a M-M lemon between Dean and Castiel. There are graphic descriptions of two men having sex. If that is not what you clicked here for, please hit the back button on your browser now.

Enjoy!

The Night

He couldn't stop to think about it. If he thought about it, the whole thing would unravel, starting with the hours of reassuring himself that he wanted it. He grabbed Cas by the lapels and kissed him hard, struggling to maintain control over the part of him that thought it was wrong, that he shouldn't be doing this. Cas's mouth gave, and automatically Dean tilted his head and took more, tangling their tongues. He didn't want to stop until stars spun around his head. He jerked back, panting, all but clinging to Cas for support. And Cas just stood there.

"Stupid," Dean muttered and wiped his face with his hand, his calloused fingers scraping over his pulsing lips. He met Cas's gaze, searching for some response, some sign that the kiss—everything he'd poured into it—had somehow gotten through, was shared. Cas had that god-awful far off look in his eyes that drove Dean crazy. He swore and pounded to the bathroom to wash away the taste of Cas still soaking his mouth.

In the mirror, he glared at his reflection. It shamed him to see the discoloration in his lips, the burning green in his eyes. He turned his back to it and turned on the shower. He couldn't believe he'd done that. As he undressed, he worried what he should tell Cas. That it was a joke? That he hadn't meant it? Steam curled around the curtain as he flexed his leg, tried to distract himself with its ache. Then Castiel entered.

He didn't know what to say, how to step back out of the mess he'd made. "Listen, Cas..."

"I don't know how to..." Castiel began. "You go first."

"I'm sorry about back there. It was sudden and uninvited and—"

"I liked it."

He'd expected rejection, disgust, even hate, though he had no evidence that Cas would think that way. "You what?"

Castiel stepped up to him, glanced at his naked body, then met his eyes. "I liked it. I don't know what to do about it."

Dean could have laughed. "Neither do I." He leaned forward and kissed Cas again, this time slow, taking moments to breath, to caress, to fill himself with Cas's scent and flavor and relax into it. Lust unfurled in him, and he realized he stood naked in a steaming bathroom and Cas still had all of his clothes on. He'd raised his brother. He knew how to take off another guy's clothes. But it was not the same. He thought of the dozens of women he'd undressed, and still it felt different. It felt weird to push the coat off those slouched shoulders, to untangle that mangled tie and unbutton the wrinkled shirt.

For a minute, Castiel stood, topless in front of him and he didn't know what to do. He knew he should unclasp the belt and push the pants off, as he'd done to women in their tight jeans, mini-skirts, leggings, even slacks. But he didn't know what to do after that, how to move forward when he didn't even know where to start.

Castiel must have sensed Dean's hesitation, because he leaned forward and touched their lips together in an innocent kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around Cas, afraid that if he let go, he'd have to continue or walk away. Cas held him.

"It's okay, Dean." Cas's breath warmed his ear.

Dean chuckled. "I guess I don't know what to do either."

"What would you do to a woman, were I one of the many?"

Dean pulled back and lowered his hands to Castiel's belt. For a moment his hands trembled, but he clenched his teeth and wrenched the belt apart, nearly tearing the pants in the process. He backed Cas into the bathroom door and pushed those pants down, tangling their mouths together while Cas fought his feet free. Without thinking, Dean ground their hips together and nearly jumped away when he felt Castiel's erection on his hip. He froze, panting into the crook of Cas's shoulder. He wanted to step back but Cas gripped him tight. He didn't want to pull away from that embrace.

So he lowered his hands to Castiel's hips, slid around to grip his ass, an anchor, the way he anchored himself to a woman and let her lust pour into him. But Castiel wasn't a woman; their erections slid close to each other, and if they touched, Dean didn't know what he'd do. He'd never been so close to another man that their hearts pounded in and out of rhythm, breath vibrating their chests against each other, lips tangling in their pursuit.

Dean moved to the stubbly neck, nipping, sucking, feeling the course texture on his cheek. Was this what he'd felt like to all those women? He pulled Cas's leg up to get closer, but he didn't know what to get closer to. He nipped Cas's ear and felt Cas's pleasured gasp reverberate between them and focused on that spot on getting that reaction again.

"Dean," Cas groaned.

Automatically Dean stopped. He'd done something wrong. He hadn't done something he should have. He stared at Cas and waited for a follow up, a demand, and insult. Some indicator of what to do.

"What?" he demanded when that response never came.

Castiel blushed. "I don't know."

"Why'd you say my name?"

"I didn't know what else to say. I've never felt this… pressure before."

"Lust?" Castiel had never gotten hard for anyone before him? That simple thought put a smile on his face, a lopsided grin that reflected his pride in a way his erection didn't. He stepped away from Cas and turned the water off in the shower. He didn't know anything about gay sex, but he knew a hell of a lot more about sex than Cas. So he ran his wet hand through his hair, sending the short crop into spiking disarray and stepped up to Cas, shoulders straight, eyes forward and locked on Cas's.

"Let's you and me go to the bed and sort this out?" He leaned forward, his breath bouncing off Castiel's lips, and turned the doorknob. "You're going to have to move."

"Oh. Right."

They went to the bed and Dean dug to the bottom of his duffle for the lube he hadn't needed to use in a long time. Though he had reservations, he figured he'd done it with a woman, how different could it be? He pulled out a couple of condoms and went to the bed.

"What are those?" Cas asked.

"Condoms and lube." He felt embarrassed to have to explain it to a grown man. "I, uh, figured we'd probably need them. That is, if you're willing to, you know…" He looked down at the bed, nerves trying to move into his stomach.

"I think I understand."

"You do? This is a big step, Cas." Please say no.

"Dean, with you, I can do anything." He looked nervous.

"Okay," Dean said. He kissed Cas again and tore open one of the condoms. Even if he used a condom, he couldn't be sure, not fully, that he didn't have something that he could give Cas. He rolled it down and felt Cas's curiosity caressing him. "It's to keep you safe."

"Like a seatbelt," Cas said.

Dean nodded. "Yeah. Like a seatbelt." Though he'd never thought of it that way, he kind of liked the comparison.

"Should I wear one?"

"No." Knee-jerk. You wore a condom when you went into someone, and nobody entered Dean Winchester. He suppressed the nerves and put on a smile. "You've got nothing to worry about. You're an angel, remember?"

Castiel nodded.

"Okay." Dean blew out a breath.

"Okay," Cas repeated.

But after the casual talk, the uncertainty flared up. He'd never been so specific in his instructions. Most women knew what to do from a word and the way his hands moved. He told Cas to lie on his back, and climbed on top. It felt odd to have a body so close to his size beneath him. He didn't have to angle himself to kiss, to touch. He spent more time than usual, living in a momentary denial and reveling in simply soaking himself in Castiel's embrace. But sweat ran down his back and he throbbed to enter. He shifted to his knees and popped open the lube. He felt like he should say something, some kind of warning. What did you say to a guy who'd never even been turned on before?

"Cas." He swallowed. How the hell would he know what it would feel like? He slicked himself, tried to steady himself with arousal.

Castiel met his eyes, and the hesitant part of him melted in the unending trust.

"This might hurt," Dean said. He adjusted Castiel's legs and moved into position, then pushed forward. But Cas didn't give like a woman. "Cas, you've gotta relax down here."

"Oh. Sorry." But nothing changed.

"Cas?"

Cas stared up at the ceiling, face red and scrunched. He almost didn't breathe.

Dean sighed and let the legs go, crawled up to lay next to Cas. They didn't have to do it. Cas wasn't ready. For all his efforts, he wasn't sure he was ready. He cupped Cas's neck and leaned in to kiss him.

"I'm sorry Dean." Cas looked down at their waists.

"Hey. This is not your fault. I'm the one who sprung it on you. My idea, my fault."

"No, Dean, I—"

Dean shut him up by yanking him into a kiss. They could kiss all night, and he would be satisfied with that. He put a hand on Cas's waist and languished in the feel of their mouths, lips, tongues, teeth, breath. Throbbing hard, Dean slid his hand between them to adjust himself and brushed his fingers over Castiel's erection. Cas gasped into his mouth.

He was a man. He knew his penis, how to touch it, what he liked. He slid his fingers over Cas, learning the shape, the spots that gave the most reaction. He stroked Castiel and felt Cas's trembling and demanding and confusing rumbling between them, quivering beside him. Cas broke their kiss and ducked his head against Dean's throat, hiding his expression. Dean adjusted his other arm to support Cas's head, to reassure even as he clenched his teeth in exertion and stroked Cas harder and faster. His shoulder began to ache, unused to the position.

"Dean—don't stop," Cas gasped.

"No, baby. I won't." He shifted his hand position to ease the muscles and felt Cas tense beside him. He tightened their embrace as Cas came, hips jutting. A sharp pain in the skin of his waist caught his attention, and he realized Cas's fingers dug into him. He slowed his strokes, stopped, and pulled his hand away, kissed the top of Castiel's disheveled crown. When Cas didn't uncurl, Dean pulled him closer and tried to reassure them both. It had felt good. Right. Cas's arm shifted, the hand moving from his waist to his back. Lips pressed against his chest.

"That was okay?" Dean asked.

"I don't know the right words to express what I felt."

"But it was okay?" He needed to know.

Castiel chuckled. "Yes, Dean. It was okay."

"Okay." He scooted back and pulled off the unused condom. He wouldn't need it. With a bit of effort and some grumbling, he pulled the blanket over them and pulled Cas in close. Already the angel's eyes drooped. Reflexively, Dean yawned. Even if angels didn't sleep, if Cas simply stayed there, in his arms, maybe they could both rest.